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The only brown door in Italy

Classes in full swing, an Italian routine is establishing itself. Today was market in the town of Macerata, one grows up to meet me each Wednesday as I walk to painting class. Vendors sell every form of garment and textile from Winnebagoesque, tented stations. Usually I peruse the potential purchases but never get close enough, purposely, to be considered a target for a demonstration of an item’s quality. Today, though, I passed the sill of the window shopper and became a consumer di Italia. After looking around at the different 10-euro-or-less umbrellas I set my sights on a hot, brown and tan, little number. I asked the 50+ Italian man how much at which he pointed at a small tag, "12." I must have looked crestfallen because he immediately reduced it to 9 and opened it up to display the push-button-fold-out-feature. I wanted to stop by a vegetable stand on the way home and by a half-kilo of beans and so I thought it best to try my luck at a little bit more penny pinching and conserve resources for the desired legumes. I asked if 8 would satisfy and without hesitating he snatched my blue bills. Relieved that the bartering went off without a hitch but at the same time a little upset that I had not pushed for 7, he seemed a little on the eager side, I collected my item and mixed back into the crowd as inconspicuously as olive oil in wine. Lesson learned, backbone sprouted.