singing in the supermarket
Santa Fiora, Italy
After a cooler night that facilitated better sleeping, the air was heavy with pressing heat as we sat down to fresh melon for breakfast. We acknowledged it was certainly going to be another scorcher, perhaps even the hottest day yet. And it was. Even before lunchtime we were passing a roadside thermometer declaring the temperature to be 47 degrees. So dripping with sweat we all were, that we didn’t doubt it for a moment. Thankfully, by mid-afternoon, when it would be really hot, we were already two thousand feet up in the mountains (again) and our personal thermometer was reading a far more bearable 38.7 degrees. Unfortunately, one of our two miniscule fridges could not cope with the heat (or something) and gave up the ghost. With no prospects of finding a repairer for a few days, we transferred the critical items to the remaining fridge and I went off in search of a bag of ice to stop the lettuce from wilting in the dead one.
We’ve got used to this being Italy, and I had checked the time….3:45, yes the shops should be open by the time I got to them. But no, it transpired that the supermarket was not to reopen after the lunchtime siesta until 4:45pm!!!!
Supermarkets.
Quite an experience.
It would seem that Italians like to buy their meat and cheese as fresh as possible (well, not as fresh as the Asians who buy it still wriggling, but certainly not pre-packaged on polystyrene trays covered with clingfilm.)
At the back of each supermarket we have been in so far has been a long deli counter. Huge hunks of meat are displayed, some in the refrigerated cabinet, some hanging – especially the salamis. The cheeses are stacked up on top of each other, bulging rounds of yellow, just waiting to have a chunk removed and weighed.
Even what we would call bakeries (establishments full of breads and pastries and delicate little biscuits and fruit-covered cakes) often have a selection of cheese and sausage with a huge slicing machine behind the counter.
Anyway, whether you are in a supermarket or more intimate store, the thing that will strike you (if you’re a kiwi – or I suspect a number of other races too) is the noise. It is loud! Everyone is talking to everyone. I have no idea what they are discussing, but the degree of passion and enthusiasm is surely not aroused by the state of the foccaccia or ricotta. Or maybe it is.
Perhaps because the stores are open for such a (relatively to us) short time each day (and not at all on Saturdays or Sundays), there has to be such a hustle to get everyone processed. People crowd the counter, jostling their way forward, and always talking talking talking. Or is that singing singing singing? Italian is such a beautiful language to listen to. It lilts along, an aria escaping each open mouth. Together, these tunes make quite a chorus at the deli counter!
But despite the opera, this small town supermarket had no ice.
Just a litre tub of even-more-amazing-than-yesterday’s gelato 😉
INSERT PHOTO ABOUT NOW
oh no, we didn’t take any today!
sorry
later…
look, we found one:
Time on the road: a little bit longer than if we hadn’t taken wrong turnings!!
Distance covered: 140km
Tags: 2008/09, food, postcard: Italy, weather
rayres
There is nothing like Italian passion! I love it!!