This little Scotty went to market…

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I love market days. 
Almost every town has it’s own market, with stalls crammed full of
fresh, local produce.  Whatever fruits
and vegetables are in season are in abundance, at incredibly low prices. There
are vans loaded with smoked and cured fish, cheese and ham, and other stands
selling all kinds of dried fruits, nuts and sweets,  Lines of rotisserie chickens are roasted on
spits and give off an irresistible aroma. 

The smells of the food mingle together, and after half an
hour of wandering up and down the lanes of vendors,  I am usually starving.  But food isn’t all that these markets have to
offer.  There is also usually Spanish
pottery, leather belts and bags from Africa (just a short hop over the Gibraltar Strait), bolts of fabric and curtains,
and racks and racks of clothes.  South
American artists make and sell acrylic paintings on tiles,  and traditional Spanish guitar music floats
out from the CD stand.

A few weeks ago,  I
was out walking my Westie, Sam, when I discovered that our sleepy little
village had suddenly been deemed deserving of a market license!  A line of stands was already bustling with
locals excited about the prospect of buying goods from their very own market
instead of going to the neighbouring towns of San Pedro Del Pinatar, or Pilar
de la Horadada.  Whether or not it will
keep running in the quiet off-season months, 
I don’t know,  but for at least
the next few weeks I will enjoy my Tuesday morning Market day,  stocking up on roast chicken, fresh melons and
boquerones (small pickled sardines)
without a twenty minute bike ride in the heat.