Shopping, chatting, soaking up good mood

All markets are the same. If anyone knows that, it's me. I visited my seventh or eighth weekly market here in Italy today. It's hard to believe, but every village that takes itself seriously – no matter how small – has its own market. And that's a good thing. Here, shopping happens, chatting goes on, laughter is exchanged, and a good mood is simply absorbed.

Today's market in Orbetello is something special, however. The stands are set up right on the pier to the Feniglia lagoon, just a meter from the sea. The offerings at these weekly markets are almost always the same: clothing, shoes, ceramics, household goods, carpets, jewelry, mobile phone accessories – and of course everything delicious that the stomach desires.

I have already described how our market visits go: strictly separated. While I go hunting for bargains, I stroll through the stalls, let myself be carried away, sometimes stopping here, sometimes there, observing the spectacle. After about an hour, my thirst for coffee becomes so unbearable that I storm into the nearest bar and almost beg on my knees: “Un caffè, per favore.”

There I sit, sipping my caffè – which, by our standards, is actually an espresso – and enjoying the moment. I see the waitress, a young girl of no more than sixteen, bringing a tray piled high with croissants to a table with five or six boys who pounce on them like young tigers, while their grandma futilely tries to keep them in check. Croissant – a good idea. I also order one ... or best of all, two.

At the neighboring table sit five women between fifty and sixty years old. Each has two chairs: one on which they sit and a second for the shopping from the market. The items are unpacked, passed around, examined, and finally approved with a nod of recognition. I have the feeling that each woman is talking and no one is just listening. In between, they all burst out laughing loudly, while the guests at the surrounding tables briefly flinch – and then grin understandingly.

A young mother comes to the women's table with her stroller. “Ohhhs” and “Ahhhs” can be heard before the mother takes the baby from the stroller and hands it to one of the women – probably the grandma. Yes, and then the baby makes the rounds, from one woman to the next. It is stroked, kissed, its hair smoothed down – and I believe that if they could, every woman would like to be the grandma and take the little one home with her.

Even the most beautiful coffee gatherings have to come to an end. The farewells – just like the greetings – are the highlights for me. Everyone exchanges hugs, kisses, holds hands, and looks lovingly into each other's eyes for a long time. And that is not only the case with the women!

And what about us? In Bavaria, we wave our hand, murmur a “Servus,” turn around, and go our separate ways.

Yes ... these are moments when I would also like to be an Italian.