All right, so Saturday morning rolls around and what else could that mean? It’s time to do the weekly shopping for the home! Mamerto, emilio’s personal assistant, comes to the house, and I ask if I can accompany him on his shopping trip. He obliges and we’re off. 2.50 córdobas and a ride on the bus later, and we’re there. We’ve arrived at Mercado Oriental where we will buy all the fresh fruits and veggies we need. we opted to steer clear of Mercado Roberto Huembes and for a good reason too. It’s the biggest market in all of central America, which means it’s filled with tourists and an equal number of guys ready to rob you.
Our first stop is the guy that sells batteries. But go figure, he’s out of the kind we need. so, he directs us to two plastic chairs and tells us to sit down in the shade. I chat it up with his daughter in Spanish while he runs off to another one of his vendor friends to buy the batteries from them. Before long, he’s back and his daughter is spouting off basic English phrases.
Next, it’s deep into the market we go. Now, if you’ve never been to an open air market, it is an experience that you must have once in your life. It’s one that I absolutely love and wouldn’t mind if I was stuck using this type of markets for the rest of my life. Everywhere you look, there is something new to look at. I wish I had some sweet pictures to share with you, but EVERYONE advised me against taking my camera at the risk of it being stolen (and besides, I’m not sure that pictures could do it justice), so I’m going to try my best to give you a glimpse into one of the mercados in Nicaragua with my words. But before I begin, I must tell you something. Sometimes, I think we are so caught up with being behind our cameras and taking pictures to remember our experiences when we get home that we don’t actually enjoy or experience what we’re doing in the moment. We see the world differently when we’re seeing it through our own two eyes, rather than behind a lens.
There is a new sight around every corner. Weaving between erratic taxis honking their horn just to let you know that they’re there, paying careful attention to your feet to make sure you aren’t at risk of losing a toe. Being vigilant of the carts hauling whatever goods or people need to be transported. Meat, cheese, fruits, vegetables, shampoo, dishes- whatever you could possibly be looking for, there is a good chance you can find it here. How’s that for one stop shopping? Fred Meyer has got some stiff competition!
Baskets and whatever other assorted containers are overflowing with a rainbow of the freshest looking produce I’ve ever seen. Chiltomas, pipians, yucca, chiote, tomates, papas, zanahorias, repollo. (those are all vegetable names in Spanish, by the way) I am definitely being introduced to vegetables i’ve never been exposed to in my life. The fruits are just beautiful, if fruit can be described as beautiful. Sure there are the normal pineapples, oranges, mandarins, and watermelon. But then you have the papayas that are bigger than your head and the exotic pithaya that looks like a fuschia cactus and is so delicious! Granadilla and other fruits that will eventually end up blended with sugar and sold in a plastic bag as just one of the many “refrescos” that are so common here.
Platanos (plantains) are everywhere I look. They are basically just an oversized banana and come in two kinds. The yellow ones, known as maduros, and the green ones, verdes are definitely the most common market item. They are cooked in many different ways, boiled, baked, fried, and are delicious in every form.
Cheese (definitely not your Tillamook cheddar, but rather a white salty slab that crumbles easily), meat (hanging from hooks in anything but sanitary conditions), and eggs are in abundance. None of which apparently ACTUALLY need to be refrigerated, or at least that’s what I’m told. We Americans have apparently just made up the fact that our food will go bad if it sits out for an hour or more. I’m still having a hard time believing it, but am just trying to go w/ it, because there’s not really much else I can do.
Orange peels littering the ground. Along with scraps of sugar cane and seeds from granadilla fruit. Mangy dogs scavenging for any scraps they can find. Children running around, most likely who know every nook and cranny of the market, after having to find ways to entertain themselves there while their parents work, selling their goods. The smells of fresh carne asada mingle with the trash that is haphazardly thrown in the drains and the ripe pineapple gives off its sweet aroma. “Que buscas mi amor? Cuanto vale esta? Muy barato. Con permiso.” The air is filled with the voices of people deep in conversation or trying to vy for the attention of their prospective buyers. Illegally copied movies sell for cheap, and the skeezy Nicaraguan rap music blasts from speakers, following versions of MC Hammer’s “Too Legit to Quit”. Men and women dozing off near their prized plantains. The guy with alcohol on his breath trying to carry your purchases, in hopes of earning a few pesos. Nothing is unimaginable at the market!
We stopped to buy a bottle of water and what I got was not my new, unopened bottle of Evian, but rather, a bottle from an orange soda that had been rinsed out, hopefully with a little bit of soap, and most likely filled with water from the sink. I love it. How’s that for quality control?
In the midst of all the insanity and hustle and bustle, there is one common thread. And that is a strong sense of camaraderie that is missing in the States. People greeting each other with a kiss on the cheek or strong handshake. Conversation shared over a cold fresco. Laughter and smiles are in abundance. Think about the Americans who go to the grocery store, thinking to themselves as they get out of the car, “man, I really hope I don’t run into anyone I know. I really don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I’m much too busy and I look terrible.” The Nica view of this is completely opposite. They anticipate and expect to see their closest friends and family at the market, and use the time there to catch up and strengthen friendships. This is really telling of how much they value relationships. And I am afraid that some of that is rubbing off on me, and I am beginning to see that sometimes being with a person and just talking can mean more than anything else you could do, even if your conversations are about constellations or boys, as many of mine have been lately with the girls during our evening power outages…
Back to our day… After we had filled up four big sacos with food, we headed to Pali, a winco type store, to finish our purchases. While roaming the aisles, I did notice open beers in the hands of many shoppers. At first I was taken aback, but then I thought about it and I think they might be on to something. So many people in the US just dread going to do their grocery shopping. Maybe if they had a beer in them, it would be a bit more enjoyable. that’ll be the day. Right after pigs can fly….
So now, the fridge is stocked, I’m officially tired, have a killer sunburn (b/c the thought didn’t cross my mind to put on sunscreen when going grocery shopping), and I can sympathize a bit with my mom when she tells me how taking care of a house wears her out so.
2 comments:
write a book. i miss you. and out of all the exciting things you had to share with us, the best part for me was the use of the word "skeez". i love you zammy. but really, you should write a book.
Haha I laughed outloud when you said you had a sunburn... As if I needed to be there to remind you to put on sunscreen :o) Aw. Take care of yourself, you hear? I loved this account of the mercado - it made me think a little of the one in Huehue and how wonderful the environment was there. Love ya deary!
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