The market in Tlacolula
Today Meghan, my new housemate Norman, Meghan's friend Leslie and I went to the mercado in Tlacolula.
The markets are on different days in different towns. Tlacolula is famous for its crafts. I made plans with Meghan to meet at 10:30 a.m. at her house. Norman decided he wanted to go along, so we walked over there, but Meghan was out to breakfast with her housemates.
Norman and I went over to La Noria market to wait for Meghan to get home.
It is a classic old Mexican mercado - rows of little stalls with cement walls, each selling its specialty - whole chickens, cheese, sausages, veggies, chocolate. In the front of the market, there are about 6 tiny restaurant booths with a central space in the middle with tables and plastic chairs.
We got coffee, which was hot and fresh, and they brought baskets of sweet bread as well. While we sat and talked, a guy with a terrible guitar came up to sing for us - he asked for requests and I said a couple different songs, but he didn’t know either. So he sang a long, loud, off-key song, for which I tipped him 5 pesos.
We went back and found Meghan and Leslie. Meghan had a cold, so she had to go to Chedraui and get cold medicine. They wouldn’t give her cash and their ATM didn’t work, so we finally found another one and got out of there. It took forever.
We went looking for a bus, which was kind of hilarious. We stood at the stop and quizzed every bus that came by no matter what the destination sign said because we figured we might miss it otherwise. Everyone got a good laugh at the four crazy gringos.
Within about 10 minutes a bus for Tlacolula pulled up and we squeezed on. It was packed. The fare collector kept yelling at everyone to squish toward the back. More people got on with big boxes that Norman helped put up above on the racks, because he is tall - about 6 foot 3, which for here is giant.
When you get on the bus, there is no fare box. At some point during the trip, a guy starts to climb through the crowd, collecting money. It is sometimes so packed that he has to climb on the back of the seats to get from place to place. He makes change as best as he can, from his pockets. It is all very complicated.
Tlacolula is about 25 miles away and it costs 10 pesos to get there. About a buck. I was scandalized because I had heard from Ruth that it would be 5 pesos. It’s all a matter of perpective. In California, I have had $3 cups of coffee and not batted an eye.
Getting back on the bus after the market was quite a scene. We milled around a dirt parking lot waiting. Whenever a bus would pull up, everyone would swarm it.
Tlacolula parking lot
Our bus finally came and we all rushed up, smashing toward the doors, which were discharging arriving passengers. The crowd left just a tiny slot for people to get off, and as soon as the last person got off, everyone seethed forward.
I was right there in the middle of them. Right next to me was a woman with a tiny baby and I held back the crowd with my fat gringo arm to let her get safely on.
The funny part was that once we smashed our way through the crowd and popped up into the bus, there were plenty of seats and only a few people had to stand.
Norman bought a woven blanket at the market, one in colors I really didn't like. He was ecstatic, though. I didn’t like most of the ones I saw, which feature Indian designs. I keep going back and forth about whether to buy one. I bought 2 more embroidered shirts, bringing my total to 6. At $8-$10 each, they are hard to resist.
This country is such a place of natural beauty and wealth. But the people have gotten screwed for so long by the Spaniards, the church, and the government that it seems impossible that it will ever be unscrewed.
The thing about life here is that everything is all mixed together, not segregated like we have the luxury of having things in the U.S. Back home, our trash goes "away", or sewage goes "away", even old or inconvenient people like the sick or insane go "away." Here there isn't that option. Everything stays and must be dealt with, right there in front of you.
The markets are on different days in different towns. Tlacolula is famous for its crafts. I made plans with Meghan to meet at 10:30 a.m. at her house. Norman decided he wanted to go along, so we walked over there, but Meghan was out to breakfast with her housemates.
Norman and I went over to La Noria market to wait for Meghan to get home.
It is a classic old Mexican mercado - rows of little stalls with cement walls, each selling its specialty - whole chickens, cheese, sausages, veggies, chocolate. In the front of the market, there are about 6 tiny restaurant booths with a central space in the middle with tables and plastic chairs.
We got coffee, which was hot and fresh, and they brought baskets of sweet bread as well. While we sat and talked, a guy with a terrible guitar came up to sing for us - he asked for requests and I said a couple different songs, but he didn’t know either. So he sang a long, loud, off-key song, for which I tipped him 5 pesos.
We went back and found Meghan and Leslie. Meghan had a cold, so she had to go to Chedraui and get cold medicine. They wouldn’t give her cash and their ATM didn’t work, so we finally found another one and got out of there. It took forever.
We went looking for a bus, which was kind of hilarious. We stood at the stop and quizzed every bus that came by no matter what the destination sign said because we figured we might miss it otherwise. Everyone got a good laugh at the four crazy gringos.
Within about 10 minutes a bus for Tlacolula pulled up and we squeezed on. It was packed. The fare collector kept yelling at everyone to squish toward the back. More people got on with big boxes that Norman helped put up above on the racks, because he is tall - about 6 foot 3, which for here is giant.
When you get on the bus, there is no fare box. At some point during the trip, a guy starts to climb through the crowd, collecting money. It is sometimes so packed that he has to climb on the back of the seats to get from place to place. He makes change as best as he can, from his pockets. It is all very complicated.
Tlacolula is about 25 miles away and it costs 10 pesos to get there. About a buck. I was scandalized because I had heard from Ruth that it would be 5 pesos. It’s all a matter of perpective. In California, I have had $3 cups of coffee and not batted an eye.
Getting back on the bus after the market was quite a scene. We milled around a dirt parking lot waiting. Whenever a bus would pull up, everyone would swarm it.
Tlacolula parking lot
Our bus finally came and we all rushed up, smashing toward the doors, which were discharging arriving passengers. The crowd left just a tiny slot for people to get off, and as soon as the last person got off, everyone seethed forward.
I was right there in the middle of them. Right next to me was a woman with a tiny baby and I held back the crowd with my fat gringo arm to let her get safely on.
The funny part was that once we smashed our way through the crowd and popped up into the bus, there were plenty of seats and only a few people had to stand.
Norman bought a woven blanket at the market, one in colors I really didn't like. He was ecstatic, though. I didn’t like most of the ones I saw, which feature Indian designs. I keep going back and forth about whether to buy one. I bought 2 more embroidered shirts, bringing my total to 6. At $8-$10 each, they are hard to resist.
This country is such a place of natural beauty and wealth. But the people have gotten screwed for so long by the Spaniards, the church, and the government that it seems impossible that it will ever be unscrewed.
The thing about life here is that everything is all mixed together, not segregated like we have the luxury of having things in the U.S. Back home, our trash goes "away", or sewage goes "away", even old or inconvenient people like the sick or insane go "away." Here there isn't that option. Everything stays and must be dealt with, right there in front of you.
posted by Suebob at 4:09 PM
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