…held on February 1st and 15th. The term “Ü Sbarassü” translates from the local Ligurian dialect to “The Clearance,” reflecting the nature of the event. During these dates, local merchants and vendors offer a wide range of products at discounted prices, turning the streets of Chiavari into a bustling open-air market. (sez OpenAI)
Another street market, another Saturday … sigh. I really wanted those pants, and that shirt, and that coat, and… those cashmere sweaters are extraordinary. Did I buy them? Well, no, only one thing, but I got to have a little conversation with the shop owner because, inside the store, where he sat, they had a little curtained undressing room where I could try something on. I love these little broken Italian language connections whenever they happen. This market was mainly the usual stores that open daily, only brought out in the street for their final sales to shoppers walking around. The place was booming with people and dogs.
It is so remarkable about sizes. Most clothing has no size or fabric listing. One guesses, I guess. Lots of small-petite things. Did you ever see the tiny little legs of most of the folks around – however, do they stand up on those straws? Shopping without sizes and labels is difficult, so I’m going for cheap. I can leave something if it doesn’t work out, and I can forgive a bad purchase that costs ten dollars much more easily than the higher-priced choice. Furry coats, fancy this and that, shoes, jewelry, it’s all out there. I got a sweater. It was chilly and I was mismatched, and had to correct my wardrobe’s glaring insufficiency. Pride – is that a virtue or a flaw? or both?
The cashmere is terrific, BUT didn’t I tell you about our washer? It seems to me that its revolution is so high that it might pull all of the cashmere fluffs apart. Nope, a $5.00 sweater of uncertain parentage will be fine, and I can throw it away later, be warm today.
We bought a roasted chicken from a vendor we’d seen. They are usually closed when we walk by, and Lew really wanted a roasted chicken. Something about being denied when the shop is closed. So – today, as usual – there was a long line outside the door. Must be good, right?
Lew got in line –I shopped the street. Later on, he emerged with that look – the one that says he’s had an experience again, and it’s going to be oddly funny. He went, in his turn, to the counter and pointed, trying to ask for a chicken. The birds are there behind the counter, on a spit. Non ce. But – the roasted birds are hot and juicy and right in front of him. Non ce. What we didn’t know was that the birds are all ordered in advance, and the line was there to pick up their ordered birds. They found him a stray, spinster half-chicken – probably out of sympathy for the confused Americani. Roasted stuffed with Rosemary and smelling so good, she was lunch. Now we know!
Churches – so many churches, so little time – all works of art, with some more important than others. There is a Cathedral here, which indicates a bishop in residence. But, there is a church or two, or three for every walk we’ve taken. Lots of religious significance and history in this small town.
The church near us is more decorative – totally covered in art – each piece specifically named for the artist. Not an inch is unpainted or undecorated. One could spend a lot of time inside just admiring the passion of the artists and patrons.
I await your newsy blogs with bated breath, loving every detail, making this a journey that I, too, can cherish. Thanks so much for sharing.
Jill