Sunday, July 4

Fourth of July in Italy is celebrated by so many ex-pats that I’ve been invited to not one, but two parties. In anticipation, I carried over the lightest bit of patriotism I could accommodate - American flag toothpicks.

The alarm on my new Nokia phone is terribly annoying. A woman with a British accent – let’s call her Margaret - says in a monotone, “It’s time to get up. The time is…….” Beat. Beat. “It’s time to get up ….” I’ve set it for 7 to make it early to the flea market in Pissignano on the other side of Umbria, just above Spoleto. To get there from here, you have to drive way up a hill to Montefalco and then down the other side. Montefalco is wine country and the ride includes breathtaking views of the Antonelli and Caprai vineyards, so I don't really mind much.

Most of the stuff at the market is junk, but there are some beautiful things, most of which are too expensive to consider. After spanning the long strip where the fair is situated, I spot two end tables and the price is right, so I make my first purchase. The vendor and his wife carry the tables down a steep hill to my car – rather, he hands the tables to her and she carries.