El Mercadillo

Yesterday, a bunch of us went to the open market near the bull-fighting rink, and it reminded me a lot of India. From my journal:
The market crawls with people--a slow, sauntering Spanish crawl. It´s a one-stop shop: grocery store meets deli meets mall. Next to a stall selling sunglasses is another selling kalamata olives; it´s an interesting, convenient juxtaposition of products, different from what is found in the States, although we are perhaps moving in the same direction, with establishments like Wal Mart Supercenters (the difference is, these markets do not thrive on exploitation and elimination).
Here, the vendors are more laid back than those in the US. They aren´t in my face while I windowshop, unlike the freaks at The Gap at North Grand Mall. In fact, I practically had to flag one down to get any attention. I wanted to buy a kilo of oranges.
Of all of the various products, shoes seem to be the most common stall item. Perhaps it is because they are relatively easy to transport? The produce enjoys seasonal rotation; when my host mother and I talked about the availability of fruits and veggies here relative to the US, she was shocked to hear that I can eat grapes (among other things) year-round in Iowa.
Bargaining is the name of the game here. I dare not open my mouth for fear of being discovered a foreigner. But I´ve made a good purchase.
The oranges are sun-warmed and sticky and explode juice in my mouth.