I always manage to buy a perfectly ripe pear whenever I travel to Europe. In the colonies, I find that pears are either mushy or rock hard with very few in between. Not so in the Old World where people demand good quality fruit. Seen here, an autumn picnic outside the church of San Luigi dei Francesi -- a pear, some grapes, a loaf of bread, some Gorgonzola dolce, an always practical Swiss Army knife. Lovely Italian memories from 35 years ago.