It is odd, I don’t feel a stranger here, but rather like I have walked these streets before, at least some of them.  Narrow lanes.  Shafts of sunlight (sometimes rain) filter through worn stone. Cobblestones. These are familiar and welcome.

What amazes me is how many shops there are — everywhere — and the diversity.  Different streets cater to different needs.  Streets of couture clothing.  Streets of discount clothing.  Streets of antiques. Shoes. Jewelry. Tennis shoes.  Rollerblades.  Streets of souvenirs.  And everywhere — bottegas.

And trattorias tucked into every corner — and everything in between.  There seem to be more shops and bottegas per capita than anywhere I have ever been. When I think we have seen everything, we turn a corner and there is more.

There are not enough euros.

There is the street of interior design — discovered today — where I covet an old stone carving I see through the window. Michael informs me that it was probably from antiquity and I couldn’t even think about affording it. The shop is closed and I may never find it again, so I will never know.