Whenever possible, I make a point to find the local market in the town or city I am visiting. There is perhaps no other designation that so succinctly offers a glimpse of the residents’ daily lives. The ongoing banter rings throughout the day as items are displayed, inspected, handled, weighed, purchased with haggling, smiles and discerning eyes. There is a vibrancy here that one seldom finds in supermarkets. The personal investment and pride is evident in the hawkers and sellers of items that likely come from near rather than far.

I’ve spent time in markets wandering up and down and around,seeing fruits, vegetables I did not recognize. My curious looks and questions have been answered with tastes of something new and conversations started.

Markets may spill out of their physical confines extending onto adjoining streets or an area to the side, above or behind. More goods can be found there, but I seek out the food stalls offering inexpensive and freshly cooked fare. On those occasions when there is no common language it is a great place to point and get an authentic, often delicious, meal with ingredients I am sure of.

Although I am rarely fond of shopping on my own turf, the ambiance and exchanges in these environs undoubtedly reverberate and become memorable moments of my voyage.