The piles of fruit and veggies shown on the barrow is sort of a Disney advert for Vegetarian Paradise. Vibrant red cherries, golden corn cobs, shiny yellow, perfectly curved bananas, apples, peaches, pears, carrots and vine leaves – and all sorts of plastic. As kitsch as kitsch could be.
The stall belongs to the vast commercial area, which surrounds the Central Market on Athinas in Athens. Fortunately, inside a ocean of food shops it made an appearance is the just one whose produce was clearly inedible – although a few of the delicacies displayed might have needed a very developed metabolic rate to eat, as well as prepare.
Within the roads out there you will find shops and stalls selling virtually something to fulfill the most diverse (possibly a much better word could be ‘weird’) of appetites. Uncovered crates of sausages and cooked meats stick out within the heat of the Athenian summer time, on the day once the pollution levels had already taken into account two fatalities. Lengthy strings of black puddings, salamis and smoked pork loins hang in the metal support arms of battered and rusting canopies, cages of tightly packed live chickens, ducks and rabbits stand six high and also the cages of quail standing beside them could have belonged towards the bird shop across the street from the butcher, but because quail not have the same cheery song because the canaries inhabiting the greater spacious cages dangling from hooks within the walls, it’s unlikely that they’d be viewed as something more entertaining compared to stuffing for that ducks within the adjoining cages.
Five various kinds of potato, eight assorted lettuces, 18 types of olive, pyramids of dry salted cod that should be drenched overnight, and which changes the flavors simply to those of wet salted cod, kiosks filled with breads and biscuits using the pungent aroma of cinnamon, or small, hard bread rolls covered in sesame seeds.
Moving in the heat from the sun in to the awesome from the market’s interior, probably the most noticeable change, in addition to the slight stop by temperature, is the fact that there is not one. The noise level continues to be the same. The blaring of vehicle horns being supplanted through the banging of scoops on ornate surefire to draw in customers within the fish market, or even the banging of cleavers on slightly less ornate metalwork within the meat department. Our prime-pitched scream because the vendors hawk their wares and also the customers exchange insults to get in every others way, continues to be the same. Or perhaps in the situation from the fish market, amplified through the magnificent arched ceiling that appears more suitable for some Renaissance Venetian sepulchre than the usual host to fish heads, crab claws and conger eel.