Farmers and Shoppers

Jim and I had planned to go to the Tuesday farmers' market at 9:30 but when he rang the bell I was still sipping coffee and had to answer the door in my pajamas. He hid a grin when I asked him what time zone we were in. Having learned from my brother Jeff, I decided to put on some pants, and we drove on a dusty back road towards the market, taking a detour to the entrance to the botanical gardens.

Jim loves to talk about the area and pointed out unusual cactus types and described some of the history of the buildings. There is even subsidized housing in Mexico, small government-constructed buildings that the locals extend with shanty-like structures that defy gravity. I wonder how much they would sell for in Vancouver? Quarter million? Half?

Jim and I parted ways at the market which stretched out as far as the eye could see and then some. It was truly the Metrotown of farmers' markets.* Vegetable stands were beside clothing stands which were beside stands that sold mp3 discs and pirated movies. Chickens ran beneath the patrons' feet while being chased by old women in red scarves. Mexican families with food piled high on their plates ate on foldup tables and chairs and watched busy women cook tortillas on towering open flames. According to Jim, there were even trucks parked on the edges of the market where wizened old men sold pigs and donkeys in hushed tones.

Whatever you wanted, you could get it at the Tuesday market. My niece Terra would even have found clothes she liked! But there was also an implicit order amidst this apparent chaos, and if viewed from above the market would probably reveal an inherent fractal design similar to that of the town itself. In the end, the scattered farmers' market turned out to be infinitely more organized and navigable than Metrotown.

I wandered around the many stands buying whatever caught my eye. The stall merchants would carefully weigh my produce and then announce a price. Before too long I began to wonder whether they were just making the prices up. At that moment Jim found me and explained that once he had stood beside merchants and watched them charge different prices to different people for the same items. I had no trouble figuring out which end of their sliding price scale I was on as my pesos quickly disappeared. Fresh gringo meat! they shouted with their eyes across their tables to one another. One kiosk owner was more generous and sold me a lifetime supply of cilantro for ten cents (although I found myself hoping he hadn't stopped his car on the way to the market to pull the cilantro from where it was growing beside the road). Even so, I devised a new goal: befriend the cute Mexican girl at the cell phone stand and give her a handful of pesos so that she can buy vegetables at the Tuesday market while I hide behind the nearest pole.

In the afternoon I went back to the library again thinking I might get a card and sign out a book or CD to learn Spanish and maybe find a Carlos Castenada book. The library clerk is unique in this town, a young woman with a dour face who responds with quick replies like a snapping turtle. Her answers are as predictable as the steady Mexican sunshine. Can I get a library card today? The computers are down, manana. How about today? Still down, manana. How about today? The power is out, manana. So I decided I would begin learning Spanish manana.

But the library is always worth a visit because it must be one of the most beautiful buildings in town. The picture is of the sun-soaked courtyard that is surrounded by different collection rooms.

By this time I had figured out how to use my cell phone and arranged to meet my friend Celena** at the library cafe. She showed up with her active and devic three-year-old daughter Gabi who is a lot like Jeff's daughter Amy. Needless to say we became fast friends and Gabi even taught me some Spanish words as she is bilingual already. Who would have thought "limon" means lime and not lemon? Like my niece Gloria, Gabi drew me a picture which is on the fridge beside the one Gloria gave me for Christmas.

Jan you should have warned me about Celena though being a shopaholic! It's contagious too, like drinking beer with my old friend Gord. We went to a huge supermarket that would rival the Fortinos in Dundas, Ontario and both filled the shopping cart with almost the same stuff (I was careful to keep her stuff on her side of the cart though). It was all gourmet items too, cheeses and fancy oils and wine. I thought of the Mexicans buying beans and rice downtown while we gringos were buying luxury food. Sometimes it is good to be a gringo. And it is good indeed to have a friend in Mexico.

Barney (who is Barney?) since you wanted pictures here's a picture of the sun rising on the town, taken from my balcony this morning:



* For you non-Vancouverites, Metrotown is a huge maze of a mall that covers a hundred square miles and is designed by spiders. The only quick trip to Metrotown in history was made by my brother Don who raced in to get a book for his daughter Terra and still met the family in plenty of time for a Chinese dinner.

** Celena, Jan, and I met at a Matrix Energetics seminar last September in Vancouver. Celena is the one who told me about this wonderful Mexican town!