the Sunday market

Outside of Oaxaca proper lie many small villages within a short distance where the indigenous people, over 15 or more distinct nations, come down from the mountains and forests to buy, sell and trade their commodities.

The Sunday market is huge, the people bringing many fruits and vegetables that are still unknown to people even in mexico.  As our biologist guide said yesterday this is the patrimony of the human race.

I tried to ask a truly ancient woman with one tooth what fruit or vegetable it was, she was selling. She spoke an aboriginal language so we had to talk by hand motions.  She kept ushering me up to look at the fruit.  She broke open the pod and asked me to try. It had this weird bluish grey gelatinous seed substance inside.  I stuck my finger in and started to put the Gluck in my mouth.  Suddenly a taste lightly sweet, a bit like melon with a hint of grapefruit.  I offered her 8 pesos for the tasting and she tried to give it back.

She wanted me to buy a bag.  By this time catherine had tried it and was hooked. We went back and catherine for more.  A select bag later for 20 pesos and we wandered more.  I bought a few weird small tomatoes knowing that our patrimony with respect to food grows in old forgotten seed varieties.

I bought two strangely shaped and small tomatoes. I bit into the first one and  my mouth exploded. I was back to being about 8 when summer tomatoes in the garden tasted like tomatoes.  But this was even better.

so happy I walked to a group of women who had really weird looking oranges. In spanish I asked for one but the seller saw I had 20 pesos in my hand and just started stuffing gobs of weirdo oranges in my bag and took the 20 pesos.

Now we have all this fruit and try and share our bounty with other gringos. But there is some reticence among fellow travellers to partake of odd looking oranges whose origin comes from a market where livers, tripe and lungs are prominently displayed.

So I like to tell about fruits  better than the hall of pig heads. I had to get leave there only to flee into the dome of cricket roasters.

And I won't tell you the long lecture I have had for a week about how meat is far more disgusting and evil than eating a giant basket of chili roasted crickets..