25 January 2011

A Morning at the Tuesday Market

Once again I put up photos of various random scenes from the Tuesday Market out on the edge of town. On those rare occasions when someone up north expresses any curiosity at all about Mexico or what I do here, I never make the mistake anymore of actually trying to describe or explain anything. I simply say something to the effect that it has an appeal for me, but it is definitely not for everybody. I would never try to describe Tuesday Market or explain why I enjoy it so.



This very unprepossessing looking scene is one of the entrances to the makeshift complex that spreads over the area of several city blocks.





These gentlemen are putting out shoes on display early in the morning. The place is a nightmare to photograph because of the tints cast by the variously colored plastic tarpaulins that are hung above for shade, as well as the mixture of the brightly lit and the shaded.



Everything is sold at the market. Food. Clothing. Housewares. Electrical supplies. DVD's and CD's. Hand and power tools. Birds. Collectibles. Antiques. Remote controls. Cell phones. Automobile sound systems. In other words, it is a more human Walmart. One-stop shopping.



This is one of the many large clothing stalls, which will give you an idea of how you must go about shopping for clothing here.



The hand tools and power tools on sale are used, as is much of everything else. Like most men, I can wander around a hardware store for an immense amount of time. This place is even better.



The conglomeration of stuff set out for sale is sometimes mystifying. I have no idea what half of these things are. But there, prominently displayed in the middle was a lonely hand saw, much the worse for wear.


If one had the time, I am convinced that one could sooner or later find any tool or at least a part of any tool.


One of the diners. La Mexicana and I had breakfast out there this morning before she went back to work after her weekend. When I first came here, I was terrified of eating at any place like this. It took me weeks, literally. Now I am in their among 'em.



This is the strawberry lady, obviously. Always there. Always in the same spot.



It is at first impossible to believe that anyone would be interested in buying some of the items on display. It seems to be the case though that somewhere out there is a buyer for anything. The place serves as a sort of recycling center.



To tell you the truth, I did not look closely to determine the sort of thing on sale here. Contrary to appearances, however, I am sure that these are not S&M sex toys.



The country people who come here to sell whatever it is they have for sale are extremely shy people. This old gentlemen stood at attention interminably behind that woebegone tree that he hope to sell, fearful, I think, that he might have to speak with someone.

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