Siena Markets

My general observations as I wait for my bus to leave Siena for Rome.

It’s been raining overnight. I see Siena is as sad to see me go as I am to be leaving.  This has been my home away from home for the last 10 days and although it may not seem a long time, you can’t help but fall in love with this warm, enchanting and intriguing  ‘citta’. Despite the low temperatures that literally turned on a day after my arrival, Siena and her people make you feel part of them, part of the close knit culture and lifestyle that seems to make this city so unique and inviting. As I wait in the rain opposite the markets for my bus to Rome, I can’t help but understand…..

… No wonder people come for two weeks and stay for twenty years….

Wednesday is market day in Siena and from the wee morning hours the market stall owners bustle to be ready for the early start and onslaught of locals getting in first to secure the best produce. These markets are in an open park, exposed to the elements. Given the weather, colourful tarpaulins are strewn across the rows of stalls protecting the arena of goods ranging from gorgeously scented fresh flowers and plants, the freshest of ‘just picked’ fruits and vegetables, so vibrantly colourful that Michelangelo would be jealous.

All this sitting side by side with a vast array of herbs just near the shop that has every cut of meat you can possibly imagine. Carcasses of all verities are hanging in the open air and the very bubbly butcher will cut your preferred selection of meat there and then in front of you… from the smaller animals that is.

There is always more to these markets

Just a few stalls away are some wonderful leather goods, thank God the smell of leather drowns out that of the meat! Then there’s jewellery, the finest if Sienese and Florentine paper, clothes, ties, scarves and the list goes on. Everything you could possibly want in one place is right here, a veritable mix of everything Italian, so much so, that you only need to go shopping once a week in Siena. I can just imagine how the Italian husbands would love these markets,  must save them a packet.

I observe the successful shoppers weaving their way out of the market back to the Piazza where I am waiting for my bus, mostly ladies of all ages, with their bags and brolleys, all crossing the street directly in front of cars, mopeds and busses no less without looking or without caring to look, because of course, they believe the traffic will stop for them… and it does. Some don’t even lift their umbrella to check before they even start crossing the street . It never ceases to amaze me the blatant boldness of pedestrians here, it always brings a smile to my face especially when I consider if they were in Oz, the number of heart attacks that would occur to these people from the scare of a car horn directed straight at them from an irate driver. I’m sure they would be wondering why our drivers are so impatient and rude, and I have am image of a Nonna waving her hand, brolley enclosed, at said Australian driver berating them for being so indignant to actually beep her!  I chuckle to myself because I am very aware that I am, at times, one of those irate drivers!  But here, the drivers so relaxed about these crazy pedestrians because (secretly) they all know they do it too! And so the cycle continues.

Go away bus!

I am sad to see my bus arrive because I know it might be a little while before I come back to what I now call my Italian home. But I leave with a great sense of pride knowing that I managed to learn enough Italian during my Italian classes here to be understood around town and for tourists to ask me directions, which I gave in Italian, and they thanked me and said back in Italian how friendly the locals are. For me, that is the whole point of travel and my reason for being here in Italy. What a ride.

Travel is the best.