30 Days of Thanks: Authenticity

The inward look unfolds and a world of vertigo and flame is born

in the dreamer's brow:

 blue suns, green whirlwinds, birdbeaks of light pecking open

the pomegranate stars,

and the solitary sunflower, a gold eye revolving at the center of a 

burnt slope.

-Octavio Paz, "The Broken Water Jar"

Translated by Lysander Kemp 

O.M.G.

Occasionally, I find myself in a moment so vibrant and real, I forget to think.  Today, I had one of those experiences.

Irene Noon, one of our hosts, took us to the local Mexican market in Maneadero (Rodolfo Sanchez Taboada.)  Which was an amazing experience!  We parked, ran across a busy road, and were immediately immersed in an explosion of smell, dust, color, and language.  Added bonus: we stuck out like sore thumbs, because we were.

The incredible thing about the market?  You basically would never have to go anywhere else, you could totally sustain yourself for a lifetime just by showing up here once a week.  There was a stunning array of fruits and vegetables, fish tacos for $0.80 each, haircuts, tables of neatly folded undergarments, honeyed nuts, old chainsaw parts, bicycles, birds in cages, tanks of goldfish, sheep, a row of vehicles, a makeshift pharmacy, and blenders.  No joke--blenders.  And coffee makers, and soup pots--used, but clean.  A kilo of tomatoes was five pesos, a papaya twenty.  There were children's shoes, parkas, Christmas trees, fresh tamales, olives, an elderly woman chopping cacti.  Children played marbles in the dirt without hovering parents, we felt safe walking separated from each other, and most of the men wore dirty farming hats.  The dogs certainly didn't wear collars.  
   
If you can dream it, it exists--in this market.  It was crazy and oddly functional all at the same time.

My faith in all that is authentic is restored.