To the Market, to the Park, and to Tea

First a stop for some delicious cornetti and cappuccini at Artigiana. I spied some gelato torte and drooled a little. We will miss this place. 

Then, to the Wednesday market. We meandered down the side streets to get there.

We cut in at a small gate opening, coming up behind a shoe vendor. The green heels look like support beams. Normal.

I snapped a few pictures, to which Joe asked, “Why don’t you just reuse all the ones you’ve taken before?” Who knows what I’ll catch in the background one time or another!

Since Andrea laundered and pressed all of Joe’s clothes, and routinely does things for us, I wanted to pick up earrings or some small token from a market vendor. I also want to get a nice tote bag for myself. I know how Joe loves that kind of shopping trip!

We cut down one of the market alleys to the piazza of food vendors. I want to find canalicchi (razor clams), and thought there might be a small chance I’d find them there, but of course, no luck. We saw teensy clams the size of fingernails, but decided to pick some up at Dèco (naturally).

Going through the labyrinthine aisles of the market, I found a corno to send to my cuginetto Joey, some earrings for Andrea, and a tote bag for me. We saw the caffe vendor, which is a sighting to this market as a Zamboni is to a hockey game. You know he’s there, and will come around and around with his machine.

Eventually, we took our route home, passing the ubiquitous motorcycle parking, and the chair in the doorway of our newest friend, Giuseppe. Perhaps I’ll be brave enough to ask him for his photo before we leave.

Back home, I got together with Elena and Mariella to talk about their Minnesota visit. They are really looking forward to staying with us, although they’re fretful they’d impose. I said we’d have a houseful regardless, but they are the only ones who have nowhere else to go but a rented or hotel space, and everyone else has an aunt or cousin or grandparent or friend to stay with. After all they’ve done and do for us? It is the least we can offer! I’m super excited to have them with us.

And Nonno had a gift for me; one of his published poetry books, this one on the topic of true love. He explained to me that it is written in Italian (vs Sicilian). I told him Joe and I would spend time each weekend, taking turns reading it to each other. I let him know it is a splendid and thoughtful gift, and that I treasure it.

After a light lunch, we waited quite some time for Ettore. I packed up most of my things—I don’t know how the rest will ever fit. Finally, I texted Elena, who said to come get him. I suggested we take him to the park, as it’s a warm day.

With his snack and toy lion in a backpack, and his stroller ready, he, Joe, and I walked to the park.

We ran, played, picked a weed bouquet for mommy (as I showed him the yellow reflection under the chin trick), climbed the rope ladder and mini rock wall; Joe and I became incarcerated under the slide, and Ettore captained the playground ship, sighting all the things one might find at sea. I was insistent this didn’t include crocodiles.

Pretty soon, the park was filling up with kids, and three of them became enamored with us. The oldest, a boy of eight years, asked me if Ettore was speaking English. I said yes; I’m from the United States and I speak English with him. The boy said something I couldn’t quite make out. It sounded like “Are you,” when I realized he’s trying to speak English with me. “Ripetta, per favore,” I asked him to repeat what he said. Again, “are you,” … when Ettore prodded, “…from? Minnesota hahahahaha!!!” The boy was trying to ask Where are you from? Soon, we were barraged with questions and with listening to their efforts. Ettore and I answered a lot of questions. At one point, the boy looked at me and asked how to say the different colors on a piece of playground equipment. I looked over at his dad, saying that it’s wonderful he’s curious and asking. The dad explained that his son is learning English in school and it’s piqued his curiosity. Perhaps Elena is right about us starting a school here! There seems to be an interest!

We came back and went to Mariella’s, where Giovanna was visiting. Mariella said stay for tea. Soon Rodi came in, joined by Fina (who Mariella called to come over; I hadn’t yet seen her this tenure), and Maria Teresa. Nonno was with all of us. We had pistachio colomba, tea, almond and pistachio pastries, and biscuits (tea cookies). Ettore insisted on joining us for tea. Mariella made chamomile, but Ettore wanted TEA. Mariella asked what I give him; I said lemon-ginger tea. Ettore said, I love lemon! So Mariella walked into her courtyard, picked one off the tree, and squeezed it into his cup.

She also called Giuseppe the fish vendor and asked him to bring good clams for her American friends. He said on Friday he will have the best clams. So tonight, pasta e pistacchio!

I have such a great time with this group. I love the ritual; a circle of friends, talking about serious things and funny things, practical items, Sicilian lore, family, and recipes. It is a richness that has nothing to do with money. And never a bad word. I could almost explode with all the love. 

At one point, Giovanna was talking about Joseph being “bravo,” it’s great to be with a man like that (“Eh; ma Karen è brava. È giusto,” interjected Mariella, God love her); she’s happy, however, being free. But then she joked about finding her a companion. Giovanna, I said; what about Giuseppe, on the corner—the one who sits in his doorway, and is so kind? Her arms flew up; she stood up and faked a limp (so I think—Giovanna limps sometimes). What! Take care of a man who can’t move around well?! For me, it’s good to be with a woman. Oh! Giovanna! Ok; you prefer a woman? Mariella couldn’t contain her laughter. Giovanna caught on and laughed along, realizing what she said. No, not like that for me, but a circle of women friends around me—that’s happiness for me. We went on to talk about the LGBT community and gay rights and that love is love is love e basta!

Tonight, the rigatoni, pancetta, and pistachio was divine, topped by a beautiful frappato that Joe picked up last week.

All in all, a delightful way to celebrate my grandma’s birthday. She would love this group of friends. Happy Heavenly 113th, grandma!