Shopping in a Crowd - essay by Elena
Wednesday morning, Mom and I left home
on our usual busy shopping trip in Chichicastenango, a town teeming
with people. Mom carefully drove our white 1997 Land Cruiser into
town, avoiding people, dogs, and bicycles, along with anything else
moving down the street. She pulled cautiously into the busy grocery
store parking lot and backed into a narrow parking space. I breathed
in deeply and hopped out of the car, careful not to slam the door
into the rusty pickup truck squeezed in beside us. After Mom had
retrieved five colorful shopping bags from the car trunk, we walked
to the edge of the road to wait our turn to cross. Several tuk-tuks
full of squashed passengers and a large truck full of produce rumbled
past before we scurried across the street and entered the meat store
on the corner.
“Four
pounds of ground beef, please,” Mom requested, and the agreeable
clerk set to work selecting
our meat. Huge cow parts hanging from hooks around the counter stared
us down as he weighed out six pounds of meat and fed it into a metal
grinding machine. Gooey, raw meat oozed out the spout into a plastic
bag. Soon the machine finished its job, and purchase in hand, we
quickly crossed the street to the plastic store called Decoplas.
Cheerfully the store clerks welcomed
us into the colorful shop. At the counter, Mom asked to buy a
large quantity of black trash bags, which are sold
individually. “Certainly,” they agreed and set to work folding
the trash bags for us. Meanwhile, I glanced around the decorative
store. Ceramic plates and bowls with fancy designs sat proudly on the
shelf to our right, while plastic containers of various sizes,
shapes, and colors stood opposite them. Around the corner I spotted
toy riding horses and plastic motorcycles,
eager to take a little boy or girl on their first ride. Sparkling
hula hoops hung from the ceiling near the entrance, and brooms stood
propped up underneath them. My observation ended when we received the
folded trash bags and headed briskly out the exit to the G&T
bank.
A stern security guard carrying a
machine gun politely opened the front door for us to enter the warm
bank. We took our place in the long line of about fifteen other
customers, some waiting patiently, and others fidgeting anxiously.
More people sat in chairs along each side of the bank, waiting for
customer service. After waiting about twenty minutes, we finally
received our turn at a teller's window up front. Within a few minutes
we stepped outside once more and turned left toward
the indoor mall.
As we walked, we waved to several
friends from church; steered around stray dogs, ladies dressed in the
traditional Mayan outfit, speedy bicycles, and carts full of produce;
and breathed in the unpleasant fumes from huge trucks rumbling down
the road. Finally, we reached the office supply store, School Supply
Plus, in the mall. Cardboard boxes cluttered the tile floor and sat
on shelves reaching to the ceiling. Notebooks, tape rolls, and
various other items eagerly waiting to be bought were stacked along
two walls, and boxes filled with other school supplies adorned the
counters. The friendly store clerk attending us rapidly gathered our
request: four glue sticks and three rolls of masking tape, which we
promptly paid for and then exited the crowded store.
Next we shouldered our way into the
produce market, stepping around or splashing through muddy puddles;
ducking under plastic tarps; and occasionally losing our balance and
falling into the closest person, market stand, or post that happened
to be there. At last, we arrived at our usual fruit stand. Numerous
papayas, bananas, cantaloupes, and mangoes smiled up at us as the
fruit lady chose the bananas, plantains, pineapple, and watermelon
Mom had requested. The vendor
patted both the spiny pineapple and the smooth watermelon to assure
herself they were the very best. Then we placed our purchases in bags
and heaved them onto our shoulders.
After saying goodbye to the fruit
vendor, we pushed through the throngs of people to our normal
vegetable stand. The spacious stand sagged under the weight of piles
of cucumbers, green beans, celery, potatoes, and many other fresh
vegetables. Mom asked the kind vendor for eight pounds of potatoes,
one pound of tomatoes, two red bell peppers, and two bags of carrots.
Each kind of vegetable had a turn on the scale to weigh out the
correct amount as the vendor hurried to give us our purchase. We
added the vegetable bags to the ones on our tired shoulders, now
bearing the burden of what seemed like a million pounds. Finally
finished shopping, we slowly trudged back up the cobblestone street.
After walking what felt like a trip across the country, at last we
reached our car. We both sighed in exhaustion when we plopped into
our seats, but in great satisfaction as well. We had successfully
accomplished another busy shopping trip in the crowded town of
Chichicastenango.