April 15, 2003
Green Market
We live just a couple of blocks from a green market, which is a big plaza full of little stands selling fruits and vegetables. Because central Belgrade is somewhat lacking in supermarkets, we go to the green market regularly, two or three times a week.
Pushing a stroller around the market can be strenuous. The ancient paving stones are cracked and tipped, and often damp and slippery too -- the market is cleaned by sprays from high pressure hoses, which washes the loose lettuce leaves and gunk away but makes navigation that much trickier. On the other hand, the sellers love babies. We regularly get extra odds and ends -- a free head of lettuce, a couple of bonus bananas -- because Alan has smiled at some horny-handed farmer.
And he smiles a lot, because he loves the green market.
All those people; all those things to see, great pyramids of tomatoes and buckets of olives; all those exciting sounds and smells. He's always excited to be going to the market (although once we push the stroller over the threshold, he goes into a sort of sensory overload trance state, wide-eyed and silent).
The green market is particularly nice just now because suddenly everyone is selling flowers. The flower sellers sit with enormous buckets full of daffodils and calla lilies, waving wildly at you if you so much as glance at them. And it's hard to resist: a great bunch of daffodils too big to hold in one hand, all sweet-smelling and fresh, can be bought for about $1.50.
I don't want to glamorize the green market. Some of the sellers are obviously painfully poor -- old women sitting with a few strings of garlic and some withered scallions. And all of them, even the kindly ones, will cheerfully sell you bruised apples and limp carrots if you're not paying attention; _caveat emptor_ is very much in force. And visiting the green market when there's six inches of snow on the ground, or cold rain falling hard from a windy grey sky, makes you think of supermarkets in a whole new light.
Still, on the whole, there are worse ways to pick up a dozen tomatoes.
Posted by douglas at April 15, 2003 10:44 AM