I’m feeling like an total boss. An absolute champion.
Today, I mastered the market. It may have taken me over six weeks, but FINALLY it happened. It was such a smooth and seamless experience, I’d rank it up there with the time I graduated and the time I managed to convince my sister that soap was white chocolate.
I bought all the food; veg, fruit, bread. I even bought a pair of sandals so ugly they look very fashionable. I had conversations about cherries. I used all the right definitive articles. I was shouting ‘questo’, ‘l’altra’ and ‘troppo caro’ all over the place.
Who cares if I sounded like an Italian character from a Carry On film with all of the ‘‘My! What lovely peaches they are’. Or that the whole experience cost me €20 in fruit and veg.
I even went to the focacceria. This is a feat in itself because every time I’ve frequented one, I’ve returned with arms full of baked goods I didn't need. Unlike the UK, where a normal queuing procedure more than suffices, in Italy you have to take a ticket and wait for your number to be called, dash to the front and describe exactly what you want (in KG and number of slices) and pay as quickly as possible, much like Argos but without the orange plastic seats and with more hungry Italians.
The first time I went, I got so stressed I left with two kg of focaccia col formaggio. Today I returned with two perfectly proportioned pies.
You might call me, ‘Master of the Market’.