Walking behind Jackie and some of my classmates as we head to the Campo de’Fiori, I think back to the first time I saw it. It was after dinner on our first night in Rome, when a few of us walked back to St. John’s with Dan. I remember just walking down some streets, and then suddenly coming out onto the Campo de’Fiori. I saw a rather large and busy square, with a lot of full restaurants on all of the sides and a statue in the middle. At the far end, I saw a fountain. While I knew that it was a place that many tourists went to, for some reason at that moment, it didn’t seem particularly touristy. We walked through, past the people talking in groups and past the vendors, who were tossing spinning glowing circles into the air and shoving roses at people. That night made me think that the piazza would be similar in the day, although I imagined that it would have more people.
We reach the square, and I almost stumble over the cobblestones and my own feet as I try to take in the bustling piazza. I definitely did not expect the farmer’s market that took up most of the plaza! The tents left only a small space on the sides before the patio areas of the restaurants began. I follow our group down to the far end, near a sandwich and pizza shop named Forno. Seeing as I had a lot of pizza in the past few days, (and seeing as I don’t particularly like most pizza,) I decide to go get a sandwich. I stare at the options, trying to figure out what the Italian descriptions are saying. After a while, the man behind the counter asks me, “Prego?” and I make a split-second decision and point to the “vegetriana.” He hands me the sandwich, wrapped up in wax paper, and I head to the cashier to pay. I internally wince as I hand over a 10 euro bill. The cashier seems annoyed, but accepts it, and I walk back out onto the square.
Ducking into the shade of an umbrella, I bite into the sandwich. It’s DELICIOUS! Examining it, I try to figure out how to make it and find a strange sort of orangey-green leaf in my sandwich. I take a picture of the leaf with my camera, so that I could find it online later, or ask someone about it. Finishing my sandwich ahead of the rest of the group, I quickly duck into the market, to purchase the plump strawberries that I had seen from afar. While trying to find the best priced berries, I see the same orange-green leaf that was in my sandwich. Ah-ha! A sign! The little sign stuck in the crate announces that these are not leaves at all, but zucchini flowers. I make a small mental note to try and find these when I return to the states. I find some cheap strawberries, and purchase a small carton. I eat them quickly, delighting in the fact that these are definitely real strawberries, not the ones in supermarkets that taste delicious, but cold. These strawberries taste sweet, and have clearly ripened in the sun at their own leisure. I smile with delight, and go to purchase more berries, while making a promise to myself to visit the Campo de’Fiori as often as I can.
In the subsequent times when I have visited the market, I have delighted in the fact that my Italian is getting better, and that the market allows me to feel as if I’m a local. I know that I stand out like a sore thumb, but still, the ability to have a whole exchange in Italian with the sellers gives me a certain joy.
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