The day was hot, but the breeze was cool as it rippled around me whenever I stood in the right spot. The market was anything but buzzling, most of the stores closed and the few open were selling things at prices that far outshot my budget. Despite the lack of excitement I continued walking, my feet begging me to stop with every step. The sweat culminating on my brow dripped down to my eye and made it sting. As I turned the corner, rubbing my eye free of the stinging pain, I heard my friends gasp in excitement behind me.
There, right around the corner, was the buzzing market we were promised. Little shanty stands stood side by side with marvelous things sprawled out all around. Shoes, clothes, glass cups, music, posters, and anything else you could imagine was there in front of us. Slowly and observantly, I began walking down the street that was now overtaken by people and items instead of the usual cars. Every vendor sat in their own makeshift chairs and smiled as we approached. We continued down the street, more bummed with each step, thinking that our newfound discovery was coming to an end. Once we arrived at the corner, we found that the stands extended until the eye could see. Stands of old and new items being sold filled the area and squished me between them. Every now and then people hopped in front of me asking me if I wanted to buy something in French and I would respond with “Perdon, solo hablo español” and then proceed to maneuver myself around them. I walked down one more block before I realized my friends were no longer near me. I had wandered off by myself, too entranced in the commotion of it all to mind.
My attention was caught by a stand that was more so a small shop with clothing racks laid around. I neared the area tentatively and browsed through some of the clothes racks outside. There was an older man with a balding scalp talking to another man who was holding a blue bomber jacket. Not being sure which one was the shop keeper; I mumbled a quick bonjour to both before I made my way into the teeny tiny shop. The smell was overwhelming as I inhaled what I could only assume was years’ worth of dust. The inside of the shop was no bigger than two regular sized walk-in closets smashed together, and it was decked out from top to bottom in clothes, bags, and random country flags. On one corner hung a full-size Louis Vuitton suitcase that had seen better days and on the other corner the matching carryon. The parameters of the store were littered with clothes racks that contained mostly men’s clothes from decades past. It was a quaint little shop that looked like it had stood against the changes of time. Everything memorable in its own way. I saw nothing that I wanted and left that day empty handed, however I did leave with something more precious, a glimpse of history and a lifelong set of memories.
Giselle is a rising senior at St. Edward’s University. She is an Environmental Science and policy major and a political science minor.
Nice mood, Giselle. I can feel how uncomfortable and hot it was and also how underwhelming the market felt at first. Well done, Jena