Visiting the public market in a another country is one thing I include in my itinerary with or without the help of a guide.
Here in Compostela de Santiago, before we enter the mainstream, the busyness of the daily specials greeted me.
I felt safe knowing that a police officer was on the lookout for who knows I know not. He was such an imposing figure at the dead centre of the market.
For me, it’s much better to be in a down-to-earth environment rather than going to sterile mega superstores. In the public market is where I met local residents, local farmers, local fishermen, local food, and local vegetables grown locally.
Fascinating faces of Spanish vendors and buyers alike jam-packed the area. One particular lady in black has a facial expression that I find beautiful. The lines, creases and wrinkles on her face tell a story. Yet, I refrained from taking a shot of here face so I settled for her backside.
Even though it was sunny, the air was crisp and cool. The smell of fresh produce, baked bread, seafood and fresh kill permeated the entire area. It was rather pleasant.
Of course, I must take a shot of living colours and inanimate objects. Did I buy any of these objects as a souvenir? Nada!
This is what I call a community, such a spice of life.
I wish I still know how to speak Spanish in order to converse with them. Ask questions about what they sell or just simply find out how they are faring on such a beautiful country. Mind you, I mastered one sentence: Dónde está el baño? (Where is the washroom?)