With an adrenaline kick to the weekly market

Siena's city center belonged entirely to the vendors today – weekly market! Time to mingle with the locals, browse, sample, and experience Siena once again with all senses. Some of them were quickly put to the test ...

It was supposed to start raining only in the late afternoon, but already at five o'clock, it was thundering on our motorhome roof as if someone were dropping bricks from the sky. Thoughts of sleep were out of the question. While I wondered if everything was securely locked, Icke was worried whether her beloved weekly market would be canceled due to the rain. We all know which would have been worse for her ...

An inquiry with the guys at the parking lot brought good news: The market takes place in any weather. So we ordered a taxi – just for the outbound trip. I had planned one for the return as well, because I didn’t want to lug ten bags and five boxes over Siena's hills. After the outbound trip, however, I would have carried 20 bags and ten boxes before getting into a taxi again.

A young driver turned into the bus parking lot no more than five minutes after our call. He spoke a bit of English, so everything was cleared up quickly. That wasn't the only thing that went quickly. He knew, as he said, a shortcut to Fortezza Medicea, the square where the market took place. In the middle of the main street, he suddenly yanked the steering wheel and turned with screeching tires into a small alley that went steeply uphill. I didn’t need to ask if it was a one-way street – there was maybe half a meter of space on either side, if you added it together!

The kid drove as if his taxi meter were running backwards. Apparently, he knew that at this hour no cyclists or pedestrians were around, because he took every curve at full speed – without seeing what was waiting for us behind it.

Our ride lasted hardly five minutes. As we parted ways, I asked him why he had driven so slowly. He grinned, handed me his card, and said I could call him for the return ride – as it would be downhill, after all.

However, I had no adrenaline left for that. Icke and I silently took each other’s hands and sloshed through the rain towards the market stands. Normally at this moment she’s unstoppable, but after that ride even she needed a moment to sort her senses.

It didn’t take long. We agreed on a meeting point and parted ways. You have to know: When it’s market day, there are three iron rules:

1. I make sure we arrive at the market on time.
2. I am well advised to keep a low profile between 1 PM and 3 PM. Do not disturb. Never. Not ever.
3. I make sure we – and especially the shopping! – find our way back to the motorhome.

I’m fine with that. I find the nearest café, have a cappuccino, enjoy a small chocolate croissant, maybe even two, watch the people, read the newspaper, and move on to the next café. There, I treat myself to a double espresso, along with a hearty sandwich and something small and sweet for dessert. After all, I need all my strength for point 3 – because usually point 2 ends all too soon.

As we left Siena behind, the sun had long since taken command again. The roads led us southward, through gentle hills and olive groves, until the light broke in the lagoon of Orbetello. After the noise of the market, the soft splashing of the water sounded like a promise of tranquility.