My street's closed to through traffic each Friday. At about 7 am, big diesel trucks and vans start rolling onto the street. I pull myself out of bed, wash my face, and go down to join them.
Every vehicle is in various stages of being unloaded by different merchants and the local men they've hired to help. Heavy blocks are thrown into the street to anchor big umbrellas or poles for canopies. Tables appear, covered in felt or cotton cloths. Some trucks transform into cheeseshops, butchershops, or even kitchens, unfolding to reveal cash registers and rotisseries full of glowing poultry. As police officers ticket and tow the few cars inadvertently left on the street, the latecomers try to squeeze their merchant-vehicles into the new spaces. All along the street, salesmen and saleswomen are laughing, greeting one another, haggling over prime parking spots, or beginning to call out early-morning bargains.
Today the wind is blowing in gusts, promising a clear day and sunshine, later on. As I cruise through the market, I make a mental list of things I might need when I return from class. I can get a bucket and a clothes hamper here, fresh fruit for the weekend over there. For now, I settly for a pain-au-chocolat and an energy drink. By about 8h30, things will be in full swing, and I'll be on my way to school.
Although it would feel foreign to have neighborhood market days at home, here it feels essential. I can sense myself clinging to any source of routine in this new culture, since so much else seems strange and unanticipated. Funny how the marketplace can do that.
Posted by nickles at October 21, 2006 04:44 PM | TrackBackthese are some of the details i love. revel in those small routines, bob. it's funny how they can kind of keep hope alive! praying for you.
Posted by: sarah j. at November 20, 2006 11:04 AMI remember Saturdays in Hilo. I'd walk to the Farmers Market and have a Coke and an empenada (Hawaiian/Portuguese donut) and browse the stalls, buy my veggies, my bread, and look at all the tourist stalls. it was just a tiny scrap of routine.
Posted by: Krista at November 24, 2006 05:25 PMHappy Thanksgiving, Bob! I hope you were able to balance the old American tradition with the new European scene.
Posted by: funke at November 25, 2006 11:54 AMscraps are important.
AND so is thanksgiving. they're kinda linked.
just so everybody knows, i had TWO big dinners this year. my grandmothers can rest easy.
thanks for the thoughts, friends.
oh, and speaking of balance, i spent 60 euros on cheese this thanksgiving. so the answer is no. i was definitely out of balance. but it sure was fun. :)
Posted by: bob at November 27, 2006 09:15 AM