|
Saturday, February 09, 2002 So I got myself out at a fairly early hour this morning -- 9:30 a.m qualifies for early here -- to do some errands. It's been a while since I've stumbled out before 11 or so on a Madrid Saturday. I forgot what the streets can look like, post Friday night revels. The cleaning crews that go around methodically cleaning up the city do good enough work that by late morning most of the debris from the previous night's partying is gone, and the narrow old-world streets begin to fill up with regular folk out for Saturday shopping before the stores close down at 2 p.m. Must have been a particularly happy night, 'cause as soon as I stepped out the door of the building I had to pick my way through post-fiesta litter. Made my way around the corner and down la calle de Pelayo. Two or three blocks along the gentle downhill grade of that street, I came across the first lonely cleaning person in their green-'n'-phosphorescent-lime colored outfit, slowly sweeping up trash. A couple of blocks over, the streets were wet from having being hosed down and cleaned. And a block from there I entered the main objective of this trip, the market (el mercado). The markets here are a phenomenon, permanent versions of what would be farmers markets in the States, only with booths and teeny stores of all kinds, essentially providing anything a household might need. Loads of produce stands, big and small -- the one I usually go to at this market is run by a middle-aged couple, her a bit tall and portly, very friendly, him a bit shorter than her with the hands of a working person, glasses and close to no hair -- fish stands, booths and small tiendas dealing in frozen goods, butcher's shops, shops dealing only in chicken/eggs (I don't know which came first) or larger cuts and innards from pigs, sheep, cattle. There are hardware stores that carry most of what one might need to equip an apartment, there are booths that carry nuts of all kinds along with olives, tinned goods, snack foods. There are counters that push coffee, beer/liquor, chocolate, tapas, baked goods and greasy-spoon-type breakfasts. Flower shops, shops dealing in notions and knick-knacks, tailor shops, shops dealing in electrical goods. There are drugstores (droguerías), which deal in personal hygiene products, cleansers, shampoos and the like -- everything but drugs, actually. For them you go to a farmacia where you'll also find vitamins, funny Dr. Scholls kind of shoe/foot stuff, health aids of all kinds, and whatever else the proprietors feel like stocking. (Las farmacias are all over the place, by the way, and maps of the city generally include the many 24-hour farmacias.) From outside, the buildings that house these markets -- called 'centro commerciales' here -- look nondescript, uninteresting. The only thing that gives away the activity inside is the number of vans and small trucks coming and going. To walk in the door of one of these markets, though, is a whole other thing -- colors, smells, sounds. An amazing brew. At least to me. For instance, the colors – the produce stands, especially the big ones, provide banks of bright, vivid hues which stretch around corners or down aisles. Right now strawberries are in, meaning mounds of large, plump berries in shades ranging from a bright, almost orange-red to deep, deep crimson. Oranges are in -- navals, mandarins and juice oranges -- and lemons. Avocados, beans of all types, peppers of all kinds. Pears, kiwis and bananas up the wazoo. Three or four different types of tomatoes, generally needing time to ripen at home. Once they're ready, they're tender and full of flavor, not at all like factory tomatoes. The mix of people at the markets is another part of the show. Folks of all kinds, of all ages, many with carts, all going about their shopping with the whole spectrum of possible attitudes and concentration. Lots of conversation, venders talking back and forth, calling out things to shoppers or booth help. Noise, motion. Lots of older folks, people who may have followed this routine all of their lives. The buildings which house these markets generally have two floors – the street level entryways are actually between floors and you're met with stairs heading both up and down. The stairways generally have a ramp along one side so that shoppers can slide their carts up or down. A side thought, while it occurs to me -- something I've found odd here: the way potato chips are sold. Vendors -– booths at los mercados or small shops out in the street that sell candies, nuts, snacks and basic groceries (alimentos) -– have them in bulk, big sprawling piles of chips that they scoop into small bags for the individual buyer. I've also noticed that I rarely see popcorn outside of movie theaters here, though they're as popular with Spanish moviegoers as they are in the states -– they call them "palomitas": little doves. The market vendors I've bought from are generally fairly formal to start out, almost always using the formal mode of address, 'usted' instead of the informal 'tú.' Mostly very courteous, almost courtly, occasionally gruff. After two or three visits, they start to loosen up and engage in a bit of chat. They smile when they see me, they ask how I'm doing. They're lovely, most of them. Though I notice almost all of them stick with the formal mode of address, rarely switching to tú. Today I picked up two large bags of produce -– lettuce (lechuga), a bag of tomatos (tomates), pears (peras), a half kilo of strawberries (fresas), avocados (aguacates), cucumbers (pepinos), mandarins (mandarinas), bananas (platanos). I stopped at two different baked good stands, picked up a couple of whole wheat baguettes –- the whole grain baguettes here are excellent -– along with a quarter of a quiche and a quarter of an empanada de bonito, basically a pie containing a layer of a kind of fish that's akin to tuna. The empanadas de bonito have become a favorite of mine, and if I go to any of the many wonderful local bakeries (pastelerías), I can pick up some truly fine empanadas, with beautiful, flaky crusts -- genuinely delicious and elegant, surprisingly inexpensive. When I stepped back out into the street, the sky had clouded over, the air felt close and damp, unusual for here. One of the things I like about this time of year are the unexpected arrivals of dampness, sometimes as rain, sometimes as mist, quieting everything down a bit, muffling the sounds of the street just a little. The air felt damply cool against my skin, my breath was visible. That was about two hours back. Since then the mist has lifted, leaving the day sunny, the sky almost milky with thin, high clouds. A good day to get out for a walk, pick up a nice lunch somewhere, maybe a good cup of espresso. Later. Be well. rws 5:08 AM [+] |