Market Day

The market stall guys in Florence are shameless.

“Signora! Good morning. You like bags? Please, signora, please.” He gestures to bags.

“No, grazie,” I say, smiling and waving my hand, as I walk on.

“Don’t go, Signora. Where you go? Stay, Signora. I give you best price. For you, special price. First customer of the day price.”  The markets been open for hours already. There’s no way I’m the first customer of the day.

Next guy has the same shtick, except he opens a small coin purse to show me how empty it is. “I have nothing. Please. You buy. Best price.”

There are variations, of course. “Signora, please, your smile, where are you from? USA?”

“Canada,” I say.

“Canada!” he bellows. “For Canada I give 150% discount.  USA 100% more price.” He laughs. So do I actually.  Emboldened, he adds “Please. You buy.”

“You’re going to pay me to take this bag away?” I ask, one eyebrow raised.

“We talk,” he promises, gesturing to his market stall. “Please.”

It starts to rain.  I am near the cashmere scarves stall now, and this man lets me huddle under the awning.  “This rain so shit,” he says. “So, so shit.” I agree with him. “You buy scarf?” he adds. (I did actually. I bought two.)

More strolling. One guy who’d I’d spoken to earlier about bags greets me a bit too warmly with the high-five-half-hug-combo favoured by athletes that it’s like we’ve known each other forever. Friends I’ve played hundreds of soccer games with are less friendly and affectionate than this. I still didn’t buy a bag from him. I’m awful.

The sun comes out again, suddenly. I snap this picture of the cool street sculpture where one of the market stall guys has locked his bike at the edge of the market.  He walks away, smoking and frowning.

“Signora!” A young man calls out to me, again waving me back over to the market. “Please. You like bags?” I look for a second. All the bags look the same as all the other stall’s bags. I start to walk away.  “Just looking,” I say. “Grazie.”

“Ok, ok, looking is free, free looking,” he says. I smile and walk on. “Free boyfriend?” he calls out after me.

They really are so very desperate.