Saturday is market day in Cuzco. Most of the streets in the Santiago area are completely taken over by tents and sidewalks "stalls," which really are just blankets spread out and covered with wares for sale.
Just about anything can be bought in this particular giant outdoor flea market. Car parts, new and used. Clothes, shoes and sneakers, new and used. Food, fresh or cooked. Chickens, puppies and unknown varieties of birds. Books, records, CDs, DVDs. Old bottles. Old coins. Tourist trinkets. Antiques and plenty of junque.
Don´t believe me? Check out this photo.
I´m not sure what donkey fat is good for, but I believe it can be used for some skin conditions. It`s sold as a natural remedy for who know´s what -- complete with jars actually labeled "grasa de mula," or donkey fat.
The owner made two sales of 10 soles each within the three minutes I looked in on the stall.
Just about all of the stalls, tents and stores seem to be family operations. There are plenty of really old, really weathered women in charge. They are seriously hilarious when they get in disagreements with each other, yelling at each other through an endless stream of pedestrians.
There also are many kids, as young as five, chanting whatever it is their tent is selling. Very similar to older Dublin, with people pushing carts around the city yelling about mandarins or some kind of fruit. Young kids, and babies, litter the stalls, sleeping on top of bushels of grain or piles of clothes or in the occasional wheelbarrow.
Business always comes first, but in between there´s plenty of time for socializing, and it´s amusing to watch how they juggle conversations with taking care of customers.
Somebody in the group usually knows someone passing by, and the chatter is endless. It`s really difficult to try to listen in with intermediate Spanish, as they talk rapidly and bounce between conversations quickly.
Everywhere you look, some woman is carrying something on her back. They use blankets and wrap a kid in there, or herbs or grain, fruit, food or clothes. Doesn÷t matter. They are everywhere.
Not as many men haul stuff on their backs, but you do see it, and the object is usually heavier and/or bulkier.
The meat market area is particularly disturbing and intriguing at the same time. The meat hangs out in the open air, with huge parts of mostly pigs and sheep hanging around.
Dogs also roam freely through the aisles, poking their noses into the various stalls. The unmistakable language of shooing a mutt away resounds throughout the area.
The later in the day, the stronger the sun, and vendors start conking out. Old men totter on little benches, nodding in and out of sleep. Kids sprawl anywhere there´s room. And business starts slowing down, and some of the attendants head for elsewhere.
This often leaves one person to tend the store, and boy, does it look boring. And they look miserable. Bad combination.
Everyone eats, and American health inspectors would suffer heart failure. The rural folk above, for instance, are sitting along railroad tracks, in the dirt, eating soup complete with a full chicken breast and boiled potatoes bought from a sidewalk vendor with a large pot and no heat -- in bowls and plates that are run through a bucket of lukewarm water in preparation for the next customer.
There are plenty of fried potatoes, and chicken. Chicken, chicken, chicken. Damn near everything in Peru is chicken and potatoes.
I have no idea what most of the stuff they`re cooking is, and some smells good, though most often the sight washes away any other thoughts.
The markets are, needless to say, stuffed with American crap. Posters of Avril Lavigne and Britney, T-shirts of "stars" and other people who have no idea where Peru is. And the stuff is sold mostly by people like this, who don´t own a television and have no idea who the celebrities are.
Ignorance can indeed be bliss.
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