Chicken with Swords

So far, no new adventures involving large sticks and machetes. The rest of this week has been low key with me learning how to do basic things like buy food at the market and drop off laundry . Why are these seemingly simple tasks so hard you ask?

It’s the money factor. What is what, what are they asking for, etc. I feel like a five year old.

Granted, there are ways around this issue. Going to the ‘traditional’ grocery store is easy. The price rings up and you can see how much to pay. Still, other than produce I have no idea what I am purchasing unless I happen to recognize the packaging. I think about a friend of mine who told me that when he and his friends were in a Mexican grocery store, they were trying to decipher food and at one point came up with “Chicken with Swords”

It’s a lot like that.

But other than the ‘what the hell am I buying aspect’, it’s like shopping in the states. If I wanted that, I’d still live in Texas.

So, a few days ago, I braved the small, open market down the street and had a blast. Everyone was lovely—from the little old lade who sold fresh corn tortillas at the entrance to the young man (Alberto, if I remember right) who spoke as much English as I do Spanish and sold me my fruits and veggies.

And talk about patient! I stumble on my Spanish...resort to miming and praying that certain hand symbols are international and not an insult...and they smile and talk slower (not louder!). Heck, even passerby’s stop to help me.

Tomorrow, I’m going back and I think the key will be to visit the same people. At least they know what to expect.

Next experience...the bus to Monte Alban!