Flea markets are an acquired taste. Lucky for me I married a flea market junky. He was a military man on orders for Germany. We discovered flea markets in Heidelberg and Mannheim, but we didn’t have much money, and living in government housing meant we had almost no space. But we weren’t there just to buy. The bargaining, posturing and feigned indifference were all as interesting as the items for sale.

One rainy Saturday in Heidelberg, a shriek split the air. All eyes turned to a woman in front of an opened box. She croaked one word, “Magicke!” and fainted.

I saw nothing special with the boxes labeled Magick Talismans, Magick Amulets & Charms and Magick Spells & Rituals. You can find Tarot cards almost every week. Turns out these occult items were Middle Eastern, potent and real, the dealer insisted. His price certainly was “real,” as in “real expensive,” but then that’s part of the flea market experience, even in Europe. Whatever the market will bear.