The Shawl and the Market

The worst part of the day was waking up. The best part of the day was the market.

Fortuna (a Ghanese immigrant who came to talk to us yesterday) took us to the immigrant market today. I don't remember what it's called, but I do know that it's near Termini. But, the market's name wasn't that important. What was important was what was inside.

There were pigs, brains, curry powder, rice, soy sauce, candies, peppers, even toilet paper. The market reminded me of a big Uwajimaya.

We had gone to a church earlier in the day, where I was forced to wear a shabby piece of nylon to cover my shoulders, so I resolved to get a shawl at the market: I was a juggler, with a mission. I browsed the clothing section of the market until I found a cloth dealer with a beautiful print of fabric that I had to have. He wanted 3 euro for a half meter of fabric, but then I juggled for his son. He brought it down to 2.50.
But I didn't have a shawl yet. The cloth was frayed at both edges, where the cloth dealer had torn it off. The dealer had given me a stall number where I could find a tailor, and I set out. I found the tailor pretty soon, who wanted 6 euro to hem the cloth. I wanted 5. So, he agreed. My tailor.
He asked me to come back in 20 minutes. But, I needed to get back to the market in 8. So, he had me wait with him while he mended the cloth. I juggled for both of them, and even managed to speak some Italian. Both of the tailors there were from India, and both were very nice to me. The younger guy (about 20) invited me over for coffee, but unfortunately I couldn't go; I had to get back. I had four euro, and was getting my change bag out to pay for the fifth, but the tailor said it was okay; I could have it for four.

And thus, I made my first big purchase in a market: a beautiful shawl for 6.50 euro.