Words by Pat Eggleton
I am not, by nature, one of life’s chirpy, cheerful early birds but on alternate Thursdays I am up at what is the crack of dawn to me [8 am] for Thursday is market day in Modica Sorda [the modern area] and Modica market is not an event to be missed.
You can sense the atmosphere and hear the sounds from several streets away and, as you approach the field that is the market site, both sides of the street are lined with “api” - the tiny, three-wheeled vehicles that are so adept at buzzing through steep, narrow streets and overtaking other traffic - piled high with peppers, cucumbers, fruits in season and plants. Some of the traders have already bagged up huge quantities of their goods in transparent packs and set them out on the ground in a colourful array worthy of a Renaissance artist.
As you reach the field you are aware of a delicious aroma and realise that chicken is being cooked on a spit behind a large van, another trader is already selling enormous panini [sandwiches] of freshly grilled meat for “lunch” and another is cooking fish.
There is a cacophony of shouts as the traders draw attention to their wares and one of the most constant refrains, these days, is,
“Fatti in Italia – non andate dai Cinesi!” [“Made in Italy – don’t go to the Chinese!”]
The Chinese traders are not offended. They don’t have time to be, for they are doing a roaring trade in t-shirts. These are piled haphazardly on their stand and at least thirty women are crowded around the table, pulling the examples they like out of the pile and throwing them back if they don’t pass muster.
You have to be rather an expert at pulling to buy clothes at an Italian market, I’ve discovered, and you also need audacity and nerves of steel. I’ve observed the technique for long enough now to have a go so I join the fray and find myself pulling and tugging with the best of them: First you must grab as many garments as you can in one go, then you hold them up one by one and give each a critical first glance. If you see anything you don’t like, back it goes on the pile. Then you minutely examine each garment for the quality of its material and stitching and, if you are satisfied, you absolutely must give the item a good yank – just to test its resistance, you understand. At this point an Anglo-Saxon may be thinking,
“But what do you expect for 5 euros?”
The answer, dear reader, is,
“A lot.”
Got yourself a couple of t-shirts? Maybe even a dress? Ah, you are a mere amateur, for you have not lived until you’ve seen the bra stall! Here you will find gravity-defying apparatus, some of them quite terrifying, in every design, size and colour that you could imagine [along with a few that you could not]. And they cost just one euro each so what girl could resist them? It won’t matter if your lingerie doesn’t fit when you get it home, for if you keep the bag and the receipt you can change it in two weeks’ time.
Right, the serious purchases have been made so I can enjoy myself looking at the rest of the stalls. As I stroll along, I wonder if there is anything you cannot buy at Modica market: Do you need some nightwear? Pyjamas cost 3 euros a pair. A long, voile curtain? There are some very pretty designs at 10 euros each. Want to cover your sofa? Stretch covers are available at 35 euros. A rug or two for the winter? Over there. Need some towels? Rummage through this lot:
Some material? What are you waiting for?
Would you like some costume jewellery? The North Africans have some quite classy necklaces and fun earrings cost one euro a pair:
I cannot leave without buying some pulses, olives and an enormous jar of the local honey:
Oh! I quite like that cardigan over there and look at those sets of plates! No, I can’t carry any more. But next time….
