Let's Talk Markets

When I was a child, my parents would sometimes take me to the west side market in cleveland. I remember packed crowds, shouting vendors, and beautiful displays of produce. There was a huge room full of meat that was fascinating to see as kid - yes, there was even a room full of live chickens! I could never figure out why my dad was in such a rush to get out of there. In hindsight, I failed to see the guillotine behind the counter and had a much different idea of what the chickens' fate would be. I don't think my younger self could have handled the moral conundrum of spurting chicken blood, and i don't think that would have been very fun for my dad to have to explain in a busy market.

The markets in Portland were quite a different experience. Saturday market was effectively a weekly craft fair; in reality it was the best people watching spot of all time. Face tattoos, live parrot carrying pirates, pot smoking bums (probably with trust funds), and hippies clearly on an acid trip were all too common in the crowds of yuppy, probably vegan, earth saving, outdoorsy portlandites. The tourists were the ones who stood out - they had no idea how to be a pedestrian around cyclists and probably bought out all of the booths selling tie dye shirts. I mean, that is only after they waited in an hour long line for a voodoo donut...
Then we have the farmer's markets. You could find one every day of the week, which I remember being a blessing on more than one occasion. Locals, looking as though they had just come from their daily yoga class, conversed passionately about urban/local/sustainable farming over the tables full of deliciously looking produce. They came off as the nicest people you could ever meet...which is probably true unless they find a recyclable plastic bottle in the trash.

And now I have officially experienced my first Peruvian market. Matt and I set out to explore the Gamarra Market this morning in which you could find any type of clothing, food, fabric, trinket, jewelry, or instrument you ever wanted. The streets were packed with thousands (if not tens of thousands) of people, weaving in and out of the shops easily covering over a dozen blocks.
Being on the street was distracting enough. The flow of people went at an extremely fast pace and vendors would run up to you with their goods or try to herd you into their store. Folks lined the streets with their respective trades, entertainers and artists alike filled intersections of pedestrian traffic. I would say Matt was approached, literally sought out from the crowd, about 50 times by people selling Lacoste polos. Clearly knock offs, psh. They would poke him with their business card, throw hanger after hanger of shirts in front of his walking path, and follow him for quite some time. Shall we say he was L-accosted?
Every once in a while you could get a glimpse into one of the stores and it went on forever, underground, 10 stories above...it would take weeks to see this place! Dodging children, brushing off persistent vendors, and hearing all the shouting, clapping, whistling, honking, banging, tapping was so overwhelming. Matt and I followed instructions to a cheap cafe - 8 stories above the market to escape the chaos. From there we could look down over the streets below - oh the colors! We could see much of central Lima - hillsides covered in rundown homes smashed together in what I can only describe as how barnacles look in a tidepool. I wish I had  brought my camera so I could better capture these scenes for you.

Today's experience at the market was one of the two moments I've had on this trip where I've truly realized i'm in an foreign country. The other being last night's sky with an unfamiliar orientation of the moon and the southern cross constellation I last saw when I was in Australia.