To Market To Market

If you live in Europe and don't shop at the market, you are not really living in Europe. Just about everything I bought in England came from a market. Best deals, most fun, variety. Are there "market stories?" You betcha - don't I have stories for just about everything?

Yesterday morning was all about a walk through the antique and Christmas markets. The sun was out, and it was a nice day to scope out the sights and sounds, letting our noses pull us through the crowds, gripping cups of hot, spiced wine, waiting for a good opportunity to pounce on a huge plate of something piled high with pork.

NOTE: Hot spiced wine - will always be "Mulled Wine" in my heart, as England is the first place I fell in love with it. When I lived in England and had my hands on a mug of mulled wine and face in a bowl of Christmas pudding, I knew then and there that must have been the reason God created pubs. In Germany during a whirlwind tour of Frankfurt many years ago I was introduced to Gluhwein. Here in Italy - my first sip of Vin Brule. It's all the same stuff - a mug full of delicious, spicy warmth.

So while the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes pull us in, there are always those little experiences that we walk away with, in addition to whatever bargains and goodies we've found. Yesterday, as I walked away from a vintage Ferragamo bag, I thought about all my market fun I've had over the years and why I love them. These are the stories I remember most:

Stratford Upon Avon, England: I was purchasing bone china when a gentleman noticed my accent. "Oh, you're from America?"

Val: "Yes, I am."

Gentleman: "Can you show me your gun?"

Val: "What gun?"

Gentleman: "Don't all Americans carry guns?"

Val: "Um, no, what makes you think that?"

Gentleman: "Why, the movies, of course!"

Val: "Sir, I assure you just about everything coming out of Hollywood is a lie. Nor are our lives the way the appear in these garbage movies. I apologize if that's what you think America is really like. Now, may I please have my sugar bowl with the cute little strawberries?"

Bagram, Afghanistan: In addition to stocking up on pashmina scarves (great gifts!) and pieces of Lapis Lazuli and silver chains from Pakistan, I was on a camel hunt. I had one back home from Jordan and decided he needed some friends from 'his neck of the woods.' After weeks of stalking the stalls and finally finding 'just the right camels' I went in for the purchase. I carefully selected each member of the "herd" and must have been smiling as I did it. The "camel guy" also smiled, dropped the price, and added another little one to the collection, free of charge. "For you, the baby one." Camels do come in herds, right?

Seoul, Korea: It takes more than a smile to score good bargains here. You have to get in there and argue, and surprisingly enough, it's just not my style. Shocked? In making a purchase of mother-of-pearl inlaid boxes (again, great gifts!) I was poring over the selection making sure each one I picked out was for someone specific. I pointed at my pile-o-future-gifts-from-afar and said, "Dude, I'm buying in bulk here, can you work with me a little on the price?" I got my bargain, although I get a bigger laugh when I think of my friend stepping in and screeching at him in some quite impressive Hongungmal to seal the deal.

Florence, Italy: There's a lovely gentleman with nice fennel at the market who greets me with "Quattro pomodori, Ciao!" He knows me as the signora who always buys, among other things, four tomatoes. He also must think "Little Miss Four Tomatoes" needs to eat more, because he always shoves extra produce in my bag. The other day it was three times my usual quattro pomodori and ... these two green things on the right.



This brings to mind a little game I like to play called, "Che cosa e?" - or "what the hell is it?" In "Valitalia" (my version of what I THINK is being said) I believe he told me it was, "Roman cabbage, boil it, olive oil, salt & pepper. Buono." My neighbor had the same question when I came home and turned over some extra pomodori and pointed one of these intimidating spiny vegetables at her.

Speaking of games, how many varieties of the baked goodies in this picture do you think are NOT currently stashed away in my tiny little Tuscan flat as I type this?