Oranges and Antiques

Yesterday (Saturday) was our day to explore the weekend markets. But first we had to start off with our daily ritual here of drinking a cappuccino. Did I mention I don't drink coffee? Maybe a few mochas a year but that's about it. Here.... it's every morning.

Our first stop was Mercato della Terra, an outdoor farmer's market held every Saturday in Piazzetta Pier Paolo Pasolini. This is different from many of the weekly Italian markets where they sell everything ... shoes, underwear, cheese, and produce. This market was just local farmers bringing in what they produce. We bought some wonderful looking yogurt and saw wonderful breads and produce.

But here's an observation about how Americans differ from Italians - at least in my opinion. There was a table were a young man was selling fruit, mostly different kinds of oranges. We've had some great mandarin oranges here, so we decided to get some. There were probably 15-20 people standing around the booth waiting their turn. I realized that there was a system similar to our deli counters. You take a number and wait until it's called. My number was 66. I saw that the man next to me was 49 and the woman on the other side was 58. They were both quietly waiting their turns. The young man selling oranges was very outgoing and as he waiting on each person, appeared to be answering all their questions and chatting freely with them, oblivious to the fact that all these other people were waiting. In Italy, you never touch the fruit you are buying; the vendor always picks it out. So he would select their fruit, put in in a bag, weigh it, and then see what else they wanted. When I arrived, he was serving number 42.

I did not want to be the impatient American. I wanted to fit in (even though I had no idea what anyone was saying) and so I stood and waited like everyone else. Each buyer probably took 4-5 minutes. No one sighed and mumbled under their breath that this was ridiculous. No one threw down their number and walked away. We all just stood there. He helped 43. Then 44. Then 45, 46, 47. And then number 38 showed up! Where had he been? Had he taken a number and gone home for a shower and breakfast? But when he showed his number, the young Italian waited on him next. Not a grumble in the group.

Now I started doing the math. We had no major plans for the day but did I really want to stand there the entire morning? Wasn't it important that the one American in the crowd not show impatience? Was I representing my country well? And how much better were these oranges than the ones we can buy at the grocery store here? Are they worth waiting for? Is it that Italians are more concerned with the quality of their food than the impatient American in the group who just wanted to get on with her day?

I managed to wait for over 30 minutes and then I handed my number to a woman who I knew had 72. We'll never know how good those oranges were and I hope all of those people who waited made it home before dark.

And here's another food tip for when you visit Italy: The biscotti always looks better than it tastes. So dry that you can hardly choke it down!

The second market was the Mercato Antiqurio Citta di Bologna that takes place once a month on the 2nd weekend of the month. There were probably 40-50 vendors there and it was busy and crowded, but always interesting to see what kinds of things they sell.... books, china, linens and more.

There are lots of street performers around Bologna, but this guy we enjoyed listening to both Friday and yesterday. He's great on the guitar and plays some wonderful jazz.

Dinner was at Al Sangiovese which is a small Mom & Pop kind of trattoria with excellent food. And the  owners are extremely welcoming and greeted everyone who walked in like old friends - even us! This is probably why they were constantly having to answer the phone and explain that they were full for the entire evening and couldn't take any more reservations. I won't bore you with all the food photos but I will show you one. Tagliata all'aceto balsamico is on many menus. It's sliced beef cooked in balsamic usually served over rocket with parmesan. Very rich but very good.

We will not leave Bologna hungry!