The Market

There is a market in the old city on Fridays. I followed the cobbled streets to the market area today and was amazed by the variety of items on offer. In my experience in Germany and Italy the items for sale are mainly clothing, shoes, purses, and a variety of linens and housewares. This market had all that plus what I think of as the more traditional offerings of fruits, vegetables, cured meats, cheeses, prepared foods, bakery and breads, fresh meat and seafood. In fact, the smell of seafood permeating the air reached my nose before I ever reached the market. I was very excited...it was a real market! I didn't buy anything, but enjoyed browsing around even though the food stalls were beginning to pack up for the day. I loved the variety of cheeses; sharp, creamy, or pungent, in slices, wedges and wheels; all mine for the choosing. After all, I am a cheesehead from Wisconsin by birth.

In the large market square near L'Aubette, I was happy to discover a bookstore with a large selection of books in English. I chose two crime thrillers by Kathy Reichs and may go back for one by Jonathan Kellerman. In Germany I found some British authors I really like; Cody McFadyen, Stuart McBride, Tana French, but had read the few books they carried by those particular authors. If I could stand blood and violence I would say my calling is in law enforcement, but I really don't think I can deal with the reality a career like that would entail, so I live vicariously.

Having never lived near the epicenter of a bustling city, I am constantly amazed by the numbers of people I see at all hours of the day. It's almost as though no one here works. They are all on a perenial holiday: dressed elegantly, sipping cappucinos and eating croissants at sidewalk cafe's with their boutique bags of treasure propped beside them; riding bicycles, a long, golden, French bread poking out of a basket loaded with tonight's dinner; or tall, stylish men with dark hair conversing on cell phones in elegant prose, cigarette smoke hovering above their heads like a silvery halo, gesticulating with their free hand to puncutate the conversation. Once again, I play the observer. Not a part of this life, but a bystander, a watcher.

I have not heard from my friend, Terri, in Cortona for a long time. She did warn me that she is not good about answering emails. I have not told her I am returning to Cortona as I want to surprise her. I hope she did not run into Maria and learn about my return and think I was avoiding telling her because I don't want to see her.