All of which inspired me last year to set up my own little stall, which was a good deal more complicated than I’d bargained for. I asked the locals how to go about getting a spot, and discovered that competition was fierce and expensive. In the grand piazza of Padua, Prato della Valle, for instance, you have to turn up at 5am to see if there are any stalls available once the regulars have signed in. It’s decided by lottery – and it costs €70 for the day. At that point I almost gave up: I wasn’t convinced that I could even make a profit, but then my own little village came to the rescue.
Once a year on May 1st they have a flower festival along the banks of the canal. As I’m a local, I can have a 2m stall provided by the municipio for €3 and I can enjoy all the fun of the fair, with a traditional jazz band being rowed up and down the canal, all day long.
I set about organising my stall with great enthusiasm. It was very handy that the Olympic Games and the Diamond Jubilee last year provided me with lots of bunting, flags and other decorations for my display of English things. I called my stall COSE INGLESI (British Things) and it attracted lots of people. Of course I’d just guessed what might be popular and had brought boxes of things from England by car in March. Some things sold quickly – tea bags, Wedgewood Jasper ware, old teapots and flowery china. The most popular items were cheeky beer mats which I sold for 50 cents each. They were like saucy Victorian engravings, with a woman bending over, and a hole where her behind should be. If you put your knuckles behind the hole, you end up with a fleshy pair of buttocks. They loved them! Pity I only had ten. Other things are still with me for another year – coronation cups and saucers, greetings cards, shopping bags…
I didn’t make a huge profit, but certainly enough to treat all my friends that evening to the stand gastronomico, a communal feast in a marquee next to the church. Best of all, it was fun.
But I haven’t mentioned the biggest flea market in Italy, if not Europe. This monthly extravaganza takes place at Piazzola sul Brenta in front of the wrought iron gates of the huge elegant Palazzo Contarini. It spills out beyond the enormous piazza into side streets and even into a disused factory. If you wandered about all day you’d probably still miss some of the stalls. Antique furniture is displayed in the big open space, whereas the streets have goods ranging from handles and hinges to war memorabilia, coins, linens and old toys. I’m particularly fond of old enamel signs and found a treasure trove removed from every kind of shop inside the old factory. I bought a couple which are now on display in my kitchen.
Being in Italy, wandering round the stalls with an ice cream seems to be compulsory, and the first floor restaurant with a terrace overlooking the piazza does fantastic business with lunches served until five o’clock.
The civilised pleasure of all this is about as far removed from English car boot sales in muddy fields as you can imagine, and it’s addictive. As fast as I manage to sell my unwanted bric a brac from home in England, I acquire replacement Italian bits and pieces, perhaps a symbol of my new-found sophistication, or maybe just a reflection of my love affair with all things Italian.
