Public markets in Mexico are typically warm places, both in atmosphere and in their dealings; although at first glance they are chaotic and perhaps not as clean as we might like, the people who go there to shop, the vendors (whom we call marchantes – market traders), the porters, the children accompanying their parents, and everyone in general, are usually willing to chat and smile at the slightest provocation.

A while ago, I went to the market to buy groceries for the week; well, I don’t have time to go every day, as some housewives still do; fewer and fewer, because the modern pace of life doesn’t leave time for the kind of life we once knew.

During my visit, I chatted a bit with the vegetable family, mainly because I missed Mary, who is always stocking up inside her stall, behind a mound of tomatoes, onions, zucchini, lettuce, and papayas, and many other things; but this time, Rogelio was in her place, and I asked him about Mary. He told me she had just stepped out. As always, I picked out the fruits and vegetables I needed, and in the end, Rogelio made the count. I didn’t buy much this time because I still have some things in the refrigerator. I wanted a lechuga orejona (Romaine lettuce), but it was very big, and I didn’t decide to buy it, even though Rogelio offered to sell me half. As I was leaving, Mary’s daughter arrived, whom I greeted.

Afterward, I went to Casa Botello, a grocery store that also sells cheeses and many other things. Next to me, someone asked for small dog food kibble. I asked for a quarter of longaniza (a type of sausage) and half of traditional fresh cheese.

Next, I went to buy chicken from a vendor who hasn’t been selling for long and is very friendly; he always has something innovative at his stand. This time he had “devil’s wings” (alitas a la diabla), of which I ordered 4 to try. But what caught my attention was that there was a very humble, elderly woman with a girl who looked like her granddaughter. Víctor, the vendor, was giving her gizzards, feet, livers, and all the cheapest parts. When he finished serving her, I saw that he added two wings as a pilón (an extra free item). He only charged her $20 pesos. I think he knows her and her financial struggles and wanted to help her. The woman said goodbye very happily and told the girl to say goodbye too and to send Víctor a kiss; of course, the girl sent him a kiss, and then the woman told her to say goodbye to me and to send me a kiss as well—how sweet! And the woman’s smile was one of happiness at having some chicken for her table. Immediately, I asked him for legs and thighs to fry, and he “opened” them a bit so they would fry better—he suggested it. I still don’t know if he was albureando me (using Mexican double entendre/puns on me)… later, we’ll talk extensively about that Mexican wit of “double meaning.” He also gave me my pilón: some potatoes for frying that he had just cut and wanted me to try. The previous week, he gave me a leg and added a sauce that he prepares himself.

To finish up, I went to the tortillería (tortilla shop), and the guy there offered me a warm tortilla for a taquito (small taco). Of course, they had a little sauce and salt nearby for us to make a “proper” taquito with a delicious tortilla, fresh out of the machine.

The supermarket is fast, efficient, and cold, but the public market means good prices, freshness, but above all, human warmth.

Carlos