Don't Steal This...It's Already Stolen!

Sunday Morning in this Catholic nation...and there's a communal pulse.  And it may not be where you think. Enter Porta Portense, Rome's weekly open air outdoor market extending for blocks and blocks under holy  tents and umbrellas, literally amidst the ruins in an old Jewish neighborhood near the Tiber. This is a wild form of worship. Ancient---the hunt of the treasure. Now, I'm a red blooded woman. An experienced huntress. My pulse races a little. The scene is verdant--and I can smell the prize in the air.  The goddess/barker of the one Euro (about $1.25) clothes table draws me in. I'm told she's saying these outrageous (and sometimes true) words, "Don't steal this---it's already stolen!" It's a wink and a nod. Of course I buy. I'm in Rome. I do what the Romans do! Yes to red pants.

There's street chic here. Very cool and edgy. Black reigns. People appear to live, breathe, and dress effortlessly. I love it. And then---in the mix is the reddest hair on women I've ever seen (this appears a little less natural)! And the men with bowler hats and small dogs on leashes. Babies in strollers.  Global vendors. These masses flow and reach. Rub shoulders and commune. It's tight. Hard to walk and fascinating. An ebb and weave. We process---and when baubles delight, sidle up to tables of treasures. We taste and eat.

For me---the double rocking knife. Comfy leggings. The espresso pot hanging jauntily on the rope. A six foot pencil sketch.  For you? Perhaps a surveying stand. An "antique" painting or bible. Needles and thread. Bread and cheese. A chandelier (oh, if I lived HERE.) An Adam and Eve radio (please insert your imagination here.) Tables of...well, everything. Furs. Italian leather boots (oh sadly, not my size...but so close!) A pilot's leather hat. Tools. Jewels. Parts of toys. DVDs. Underwear.  Old suitcases. Candlesticks and lamps. Antique phones. Picture frames. Masks.  Shiny fabric. A poster that reads, "Moose Lake Bait and Tackle." Yup, that too.

The soundtrack? An accordian player (be still my heart!), of course. Cacophony of Roman voices call out to each other in a full throated union that is wild and wonderful. This is a truly expressive culture. What do we say in music? "With Feeling!" Yes, it's impossible to miss it. Roman people speak with feeling, delight with feeling, live with feeling and do of course talk non-stop with feeling. A cadence of spirit and arc of tones and calls and trills and ooohs and ahhhs!  What's that? Oh---a saxophone. Nice.

And I wonder...how is it that I, a Scandinavian American, feel so completely and utterly at home here?