Yucatan, March 2004
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The Mercado
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The Mercado is crowded. Robin is attracted to these places like a bee to a
flower. Denser, thicker—the more crowded, the better. I follow along. I have a finite
tolerance for these environments. "When you've had enough, tell me," she says. I
descend into these places as though I have just so much oxygen in the tank. But I am having a novel sensation. I can see where I am. I am 5’6". Where I come from, I am a short man. I am accustomed to being jostled by giants, and to always being disoriented in a crowd. In Merida, I am a tall man. I can see over the crowd, as I am a head taller than anyone else here. It is an experience entirely new to me. The sprawling market has many sections and neighborhoods. There is the mole section, the papaya section,which is next to the appliance parts area, which also has a repair stall for religious statues. A cilantro and spice area, with table after table of plastic bags of various spices. Bin after bin of dried peppers. The dead chicken area, abdomens splayed to show developing eggs, and groups of them hooked together through the neck. A live bird section, a thoroughly depresssing collection of cardinals and red wing blackbirds and lazuli buntings and other wild-caught finches flying against the cage walls. Several parrots hunkered morosely in individual cages. It is all overwhelming, and not altogether in a bad way. Walking slowly I feel on a tour ride through an exotic city. I could stand and stop for a long time at any random point to try and make sense of the environment. But the man with the airhorns--I thought it was a truck honking incessantly--is walking behind us, and we don't seem to be increasing our distance from the noise. Perhaps because Robin made eye contact with the man, he thinks we want one and is following us. This happens a lot, particularly in any business with tourist trinkets. Panama hats, Oaxacan statues, peasant blouses, hint any interest and you will have a small man trying to show you the entire inventory. Then there is the music. Storefronts on the street seem think there is a direct proportional relationship with volume and appeal. Mexican pop, American hip-hop, disco techno. There is an exact analogue in the natural environment here --the constant whirping chatter of the Great-tailed Grackles in the town zocolo. |
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