(no subject)

Rome is strangely reminding me of the old section of New Delhi, though it's a much prettier city overall-- the incredible and fascinating ruins and cool little shops around every corner, the horrible traffic congestion, the annoying difficulty of doing seemingly simple things like get a load of laundry done or ride a bus or book a train ticket, the heat which led me to dump a handful of water over my head before venturing back hatless into the sun, and the wonderful markets.

Today I took the bus to the Sunday flea market at Porta Portese, which required buying a ticket in advance at the tobacco shop across the street. I have been feeling the stirrings of strange desires since I came to Rome, and today I was able to satisfy them with the purchase of a pair of bronze sandals with two broad straps and platform heels (very uncomfortable if I walk farther than around the seller's table, I discovered, but they'll be fine for parties), two floral print dresses (one very pale lavender with delicate green traceries of buds and bamboo-like leaves, one red roses on black), two abstract-print tops (one brown batik stretch, one button-down abstract pattern vaguely resembling pens and birds and lyres, in about six different colors), and two fake Prada handbags. Are these sold on street corners in New York and I just didn't notice, or is this an Italian thing? Anyway, if anyone wants a fake Prada or Gucci handbag, I can get you one. Please do not guilt-trip me about buying counterfeit merchandise-- well, you can try, but I have heard the arguments, and some I don't believe and some I don't care about.

Returning to character, I also bought an old and silken Echtes Leder black leather jacket with lots of pockets and ornamental zippers and an attached belt with a buckle. I know that one woman does not really need to own four black leather jackets (one short and one long are sufficient) but it cost five euros, and the only thing wrong with it is a missing zipper-tag on the left cuff.

The market was huge-- about ten blocks, I estimate, and with two lanes each lined on both sides with stalls and customers maniacally sorting through piles of cheap used clothing, sellers bellowing out how cheap and good their stuff was, and the sellers of fake handbags adopting a more stealthy approach, in which they waited in silence till they spotted someone giving their handbags a lustful stare, and then buttonholed them and would not let them leave until they bought one or ran away.

Clutching my loot, I went to the only restaurant that was open and nearby, which scared me by being a Chinese pizzeria, but it served pretty good pizza-- hard-boiled egg, while probably not traditional, is delicious, while topping a pizza with whole green olives with the stones in them is probably missing the point-- but the highlight was the appetizer of buffalo mozzarella on some green leafy vegetable. It is served in lumps a bit larger than golf balls, with a resilient exterior and a meltingly soft interior alternating with more springy bits. If you press it with a fork, milk wells up. It's slightly tangy and very creamy and delicate in flavor, and ever so much better than any I've had in the US. I think I will have some every day until I leave.

Then I went to take the bus back, and discovered that you need a ticket before you can board, but there were no ticket machines and the tobacco shops had closed for Sunday afternoon. A "helpful" stranger offered to give me a ride on his motorcycle, but come on. So I began walking back in the general direction from whence I came, figuring eventually I'd find an open shop. Twelve blocks later and so glad I had not bought any books to lug around since they were all in Italian, I did. However, I had walked back by the most direct route on the map, not the route my bus had taken getting there (which I couldn't remember) and could not find a bus stop for a bus going where I was headed. Twelve blocks later, I saw a subway stop and decided to just take the subway... and then a bus pulled up. Saved!