CAMERANO (part III): Keep moving, there's nothing to see here

WITHOUT KNOWING THE ITALIAN word for fitting room I hold the shirts I picked out up to my torso. I point to the shirt, point to myself and, in English, say to the saleswoman, “Try on?’

It’s Wednesday, market day in Camerano. There are dozens of stands - open from 9am until 12:30 in the afternoon - with racks of discounted clothing lining the piazza. It is a scene replicated in small towns across Italy on a daily basis.

The woman answers something back in Italian and them motions for me to follow her.

We take a few steps over to a large white van, which she uses to transport her clothing products from town to town, from market day to market day.

As she opens the van, all I can think is, “What is going on?”

She points her thin, tan finger to the open door and looks at me. Shrugging my shoulders I climb into this huge unmarked van.

“Is she kidnapping me?” I wonder.

Once inside I see that a white tarp has been hung in the interior of the van and a mirror is leaning against the driver’s seat. I finally realize it’s a make-shift fitting room and I try on my shirts.

Sure the tarp doesn’t cover all the windows and the people of Camerano perusing the market this morning can probably see me changing but you learn that the Wednesday market is a, “When in Rome …” type of thing.

After trying on my shirts I exit the van and practically bump into the vender.

She asks, “Va bene?”

No, sadly, they are not good.

I shake my head and hand her the shirts, slightly defeated.

- Caitlyn Slivinski