Market day

With the guidance of our hosts, friendly Antiguenos and a handful of local publications, I'm learning to navigate Antigua. Of course much of this revolves around food: there's Dona Luisa Xicotencatl for the best homemade granola, all-natural peanut butter and warm bread fresh from the oven every day at 2 pm (we first found Dona Luisa's by following the delightful scent of banana bread from about two blocks away); Dona Gavi for vegan ice cream (my favorite flavor so far is coco); Epicure for all manner of gourmet spices, sauces and other Trader Joes provisions (which by the way, I can't even find in Denver); Cafe Condessa for a good cup of joe, the Whiskey Den (needs no explanation) and Sabe Rico for tasty, healthy lentil stews, quiche and fresh fruit smoothies in enormous, colorful glasses. There's even an organic grocery store, Organica, which has all the comforts of Whole Foods at home at about double the price (emergency-only).

But the best discovery so far is the local market, which bustles every Monday, Thursday and Saturday. This is where you go to buy your fruits and veggies for the week from your favorite vendedora. Miwa was nice enough to accompany me on my first trip, and I'm glad she did because it's kind of overwhelming, and certainly much different from a grocery trip at home.

Part of the market is outdoors and part of it winds into an indoor/outdoor labryinth of stalls overflowing with everything from produce and fresh flowers to used clothes and miscellaneous chicken parts. Here you can buy a bar of Dove soap, rice, beans, spices, a dried flower wreath, pirated DVDs, a few days' worth of tomate, aguacate, arroz and uizquil, a new pair of shades or used shoes for just 10Q, candles, meat, dog food and apparently that live turtle you've been wanting. Some sellers have shelves and tables (staked floor to ceiling) while others sit on the ground surrounded by the fruits and vegetables they hauled in.

As you pass these rows of produce altars, women call to you, "Zanahorias! Papas! Mangos a cinco! Que buscas, que buscas?" There are the sounds of music and telenovelas on static-filled screens, polite negotiation, laughter, fresh tortillas rhyhmically slapped together and sizzling.

We wound our way into the heart of the beast, squeezing past men with heavy bags of rice slung over their shoulders and bumping into women in trajes tipicos, colorful skirts and heavy woven shirts of bright colors. I forced myself to concentrate on following Miwa's quick, no-nonsense pace instead of looking around too much for fear of being lost forever.

Finally we arrived at Miwa's favorite vendedora, and began the process of pointing, collecting, counting. Of course there are no signs that say how much anything costs. It's all a business of ask and ask again until you agree.

That day, I bought 2 small eggplant, a bag of tomatoes, onions, broccoli, potatoes, two uizquil (a new veggie), and a bunch of carrots for 25 quetzales, or about $3. Then Miwa whisked me back through the windy halls, past warm marbled meet hanging from heavy hooks, silver fish with staring eyes, towers of brown eggs and children snoozing atop colorful fabrics to her preferred fruit stall where we bought banano (bunches of short bananas), mangoes and a special treat, mangoes para chupar. These are smaller, yellow mangoes that you puncture at one end, squeeze with all your might and suck the juice out of for a sweet, sticky treat.

I'm happy to say that I was able to find these two sellers again when I returned to the mercado with Johnny a couple days later. (Truly, the layout of this place is so confusing that I was quite proud of myself). There's something really fun about gathering your food on the same day as everyone else without shopping carts, price checks or fluorescent lights. Of course we learned our lesson: it is best to go earlier in the day than later, when the chicken I mentioned has been sitting out all afternoon.