Umbrella

While most Americans imagine Italy to be a land of endless lasagna and eternal sunshine, I have not found that to be true. Bologna is often cloudy and rainy. When it rains here, it really pours, and this can go on quite literally all day. For instance, this morning I woke up to rain. I walked to class in the rain. I walked home in the rain. I walked back to class in a cloudy haze. I walked home again in a cloudy haze punctuated by loud claps of thunder. 

I did not bring an umbrella to Bologna. I thought the porticoes would provide sufficient coverage from the rain, and they do, where they exist... which is not so much in my immediate neighborhood. Oh well, I borrowed my absent roommate's umbrella for today. Alas, she returns tonight and so my "borrowing" days are soon to be over. Walking home from school tonight, I had a mission. Buy an umbrella.

Now I had no idea where to find an umbrella. Wal-Mart is the type of shop guaranteed to carry umbrellas, and there are no Wal-Marts here, nor anything even remotely similar. Italians favor tiny shops with mind bogglingly limited selections. Imagine a supermarket that doesn't sell eggs. Regardless, I searched every shop window between the Porta San Donato and my building for an umbrella. I found none. However, I did find the Emporio Duse. I think it's proper English name would be "junk shop". It was a shop, filled with junk. Cheap pots, fake flowers and shower curtains were piled high on every shelf. Hanging from the ceiling were umbrellas. 

If there was a sign giving a price, I didn't see it. Instead, each umbrella was individually labelled with price tag possibly written by someone's arthritic grandmother. They were totally illegible. I walked away. A few aisles away was another selection of umbrellas, this time inscribed with the Hello Kitty logo. I looked at a tag. Squinting with enormous effort, I worked out what looked to be 4 euro. Not bad, I thought. Surely all the umbrellas were in the same price range. 

I returned to the first set of umbrellas I saw, picked a cheery green one, and sauntered up to the counter immensely pleased with myself. I greeted the cashier, and she rang through the umbrella as I hunted for my wallet in my backpack. 

"Tredici," she said. 

I swallowed.

I looked to my left and saw a bucket chock full of umbrellas, with a large sign advertising them very clearly for 8 euros. I sighed.

My day had been going so well. I was so proud of myself for shopping alone, in Italy, in Italian. More than anything, I wanted a happy ending. To be able to say that I actually did something right, no mistakes, no apologies, no awkward moments.

And that's how I ended up spending 13 euros on an umbrella. It's hanging in my closet right now, and I have to say it looks pretty sharp. It really is a very nice umbrella, and it will certainly get plenty of use, so maybe, just maybe it was worth every euro.