With a stink under their noses

Recent happenings have taken me to Foligno, Umbria, and I spent some hours wandering it's streets yesterday morning. It's a small city, and it is beautiful, really totally beautiful. On every corner there seems to be a perfectly preserved ancient church and the smallest cobbled sidestreets will lead you out into wide smart piazzas with elegant bars and elegant people sitting outside them.

Just as I was preparing to get on the next train back to Rome and flee my newbuild studio flat for a little something in Foligno's sun-dappled piazza (if possible living over that baker's with the fancy-looking biscotti), I had a shock. That is to say, I had my first contact with a local. Window-shopping a bit aimlessly I accidentally wandered into the path of a bicycle. The girl braked. "Whoops, sorry" I exclaimed, shocked. She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and gave me an icy-cold look. She held me in her freezing gaze for a few seconds then she re-adjusted her rucksack and glided away without a backwards glance. I was willing it to be a temporary blip, but no, it turned out the residents of Foligno had a definite 'stink under their noses' (the rather more elegant Italian way of saying they had a stick up their arse). I went into several bars and was treated with the utmost hostility by the staff. After paying for my coffee I threw a casual 'thanks, bye' over my shoulder like I do in Rome and was met with a wall of silence as I exited instead of the usual 'thanks to you too, bye'. People in the street stared at my leg like always, but the staring was never followed by a sad or sympathetic muttered 'mamma mia' or 'poverina' and a shake of the head like in Rome. It was an appraising stare at the leg, followed by a scan of the face, then a dismissal and continutation with whatever they were doing.

I was extremely happy to return to my town, where the chairs outside the bars are made of red plastic and don't have cushions on them, but at least the staff acknowledge your thanks. Foligno is Italy at it's pituresque best, but it's definitely not the Italy I know.

Does anyone know Foligno that could shed some light onto this 'stink under the nose' phenomenon? Did the residents just all get out of bed on the wrong side the day I was there? I would be interested to hear of any experiences...