1 March, 2010: KirstenI know I write a lot about food. Apparently I'm not about to stop now.
What I want to say is that outdoor mercados are so much more fun, interesting and interactive than supermarkets. We've been living on the street where the market is, with a row of vegetable and fruit sellers below our window. All day long they are busy setting up, selling their wares, talking with patrons when there is a chance, adjusting canopies and tents as the sun appears, then disappears, then wind begins, then the rains…It is an exciting place to shop, and each morning I envy the women with children strapped to their backs, buying up loads of potatoes (maybe envy is a strong word—knowing how heavy those bundles must be), carrots, squash, onions, herbs, tomatoes, fruits…for who knows what kinds of meals.
We spend a good amount of time in front of our window, watching the heart of the market throb with energy. Not only is it a place of business and news gathering, it's also a day care center for all those little ones connected to the vendors (and possibly others as well!). One activity that takes place throughout the month as part of Carnival is the act of getting the others wet or dirty, boys against girls. The main implements for this endeavor are water balloons, called globos (for the older jovenes, not so much the younger ninos), water guns, and cans of spray foam. We watched as the month geared up and the girls started taking revenge on the boys. The market was the perfect spot to see this change in the trend, since the girls had a few different outposts of parental aid in the market: several women market vendors had a stockpile of water balloons ready for the girls to use. Soon, the boys would only do run-by attempts at getting the girls….they knew they were in enemy territory.
But aside from Carnival, when the mayhem tones down, we regularly see little ones (from 3-7 years old, some still new-ish in their walking shoes) running in packs through the market, pausing to get a change in clothes from their mom and then taking off again to find buddies…or some little one upset about something finds the hand of the nearest substitute-mother to console him.
Some folks think it's dangerous to travel in South America. That's certainly true of some places, but here? Would you let your child run free like that in the U.S.? (Would others be miffed if you did?) In either country, where is the boundary between real and perceived danger?
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