A panoramic view of the farmer's market right outside my window, taken just now (click each pic for a big version). I was planning on heading out for errands of grocery shopping, banking, and the pharmacy but got lazy. N. volunteered to step out and get me dinner.
At the farmer's market (which is every Thursday), among all the vendors with organic produce and stems of flowers or pouffy cheeses, expensive honey, and gourmet nuts, are food sellers who offer good things to eat, cooked right there on the spot for you. There's a booth that serves crepes stuffed with meat, fruit or sweets, another booth selling hot pupusas cooked by short nut coloured ladies, a rotisserie chicken vendor, barbecue stand, hot fresh Peruvian food, gelatos, snow cones, corn on the cob cooked over an open flame, and of course a Mexican taqueria making tacos, tortas, and other goodies.
The market is hugely popular and you can rely on great crowds of families, young and old couples, and generally good local people of all races coming for their weekly stocks. I can see it all out my window and it's very warm and grounding, a comforting sense of neighbourhood and community.
There are musicians who play as well, with the requisite cup or basket for your donations. One of them is a saxophonist who uses some kind of Casio keyboard for backing percussions and accompanying melody. She sucks. She usually tries to play Brubeck Quartet's Take Five but can never get it right. I feel badly for her and all but I have to keep my window shut and turn up my music whenever she happens to be there.
That building across the street houses apartments on the upper floor, a friendly looking hair salon (for friendly looking haircuts, I'm sure), and a marvelous indie cafe with a cool laid back young staff. Local hipsters hang out at the cafe all the time, often into the evening and sometimes if I'm lucky someone brings his guitar and the music travels to my window. They have free wi-fi but I'm so damn lazy and stupid and never take advantage of it. I swear once I'm feeling better I'll go there at least twice or so a week to do my writing and blogging, and read lots of books, like I used to do in Chicago years back when I had my own digs.
Every few weeks or so a large film crew takes over the whole block just to shoot a scene at that cafe (the owner must make a shitload of money from it), for a television show or a commercial. Sometimes they camp out for a few days' worth of shooting, the white and silver vans and trailers taking up all the parking spaces nearby and the power cables snake all over the pavements to their sources. I've seen a few famous actors in the group but I don't recognize them because I never watch television.
Sometimes the aroma of the hot foods wafts into my window and distracts me from my laptop. I asked N. to buy me a beef burrito. Can't wait. In the meantime I'll have a glass of Merlot.
At the farmer's market (which is every Thursday), among all the vendors with organic produce and stems of flowers or pouffy cheeses, expensive honey, and gourmet nuts, are food sellers who offer good things to eat, cooked right there on the spot for you. There's a booth that serves crepes stuffed with meat, fruit or sweets, another booth selling hot pupusas cooked by short nut coloured ladies, a rotisserie chicken vendor, barbecue stand, hot fresh Peruvian food, gelatos, snow cones, corn on the cob cooked over an open flame, and of course a Mexican taqueria making tacos, tortas, and other goodies.
The market is hugely popular and you can rely on great crowds of families, young and old couples, and generally good local people of all races coming for their weekly stocks. I can see it all out my window and it's very warm and grounding, a comforting sense of neighbourhood and community.
The Dave Brubeck Quartet - Take Five
There are musicians who play as well, with the requisite cup or basket for your donations. One of them is a saxophonist who uses some kind of Casio keyboard for backing percussions and accompanying melody. She sucks. She usually tries to play Brubeck Quartet's Take Five but can never get it right. I feel badly for her and all but I have to keep my window shut and turn up my music whenever she happens to be there.
That building across the street houses apartments on the upper floor, a friendly looking hair salon (for friendly looking haircuts, I'm sure), and a marvelous indie cafe with a cool laid back young staff. Local hipsters hang out at the cafe all the time, often into the evening and sometimes if I'm lucky someone brings his guitar and the music travels to my window. They have free wi-fi but I'm so damn lazy and stupid and never take advantage of it. I swear once I'm feeling better I'll go there at least twice or so a week to do my writing and blogging, and read lots of books, like I used to do in Chicago years back when I had my own digs.
Every few weeks or so a large film crew takes over the whole block just to shoot a scene at that cafe (the owner must make a shitload of money from it), for a television show or a commercial. Sometimes they camp out for a few days' worth of shooting, the white and silver vans and trailers taking up all the parking spaces nearby and the power cables snake all over the pavements to their sources. I've seen a few famous actors in the group but I don't recognize them because I never watch television.
Sometimes the aroma of the hot foods wafts into my window and distracts me from my laptop. I asked N. to buy me a beef burrito. Can't wait. In the meantime I'll have a glass of Merlot.
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1 comment:
I just thought I'd tell you, I was watching Step Brothers in the theater and I nearly jumped out of my seat when I saw that they used locations right in your neighborhood. I actually saw the metro station and some of the little shops there and I checked it later when I go home. I was so right.
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