My host, Chris, warns me, prepare yourself to be overwhelmed. As we pulled in a scrambled rush of kids chase us. All of them vying for our attention. Some want to watch the car. Some want to help us shop. All want a few coins to take for what must be a long days work. Chris handles them all and I get to just tag along. He has his favorites that get him the best deals or the freshest produce.
The market is an open-sided, corrugated metal building. It's cavernous and dark compared to the outside glare. All is a mix of strange smells (some not so pleasant), jostling shoppers, piles of produce everywhere and vendors pulling on your sleeve.
We see tall bunches of plantains, a starchy, potato-like banana stacked along the aisles. I haven't tried them yet, but I see them growing everywhere (including our yard) and people carrying them on their heads or the backs of their bikes.
We see amazing piles of pineapples. Pineapple here is so sweet and juicy. It's served everywhere and abundantly delicious.
And then there are the beans. Row upon row of broad, low woven baskets filled with shelled beans, some dry... some fresh. All of them seeming variations on the kidney bean in every color and pattern imaginable.
Down the way we spy an arranged stack of fruit new to my naive eyes. Chris tells me they are tree tomatoes. About the size and shape of a roma, they taste something akin to a cross between a passion fruit and a tomato. When sliced, they run with a deep purple juice. As you split them apart, they reveal orange flesh, punctuated with the a purple-crimson jelly around numerous seeds. Tart and fuity and "tomato-ey" all at once.
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