Shopping for food these last few months has been boring. Most of my supplies come from the supermarket – the gigantic industrial Cosco variety, with airport sized aisles. It’s an impersonal environment with minimally paid workers who look like they’d rather be somewhere else. I can’t blame them. I once worked behind the deli counter of such an establishment. I hated it. The customers either ignored you or were condescending “Girl! Oh gurrrrrl! Please slice me 200grams of pastrami, extra thin like I like”. I’d rather be the invisible manual worker than deal with people who believe they are a different and better species.
The dynamics of an outdoor market is different. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps there is more passion when the vendors own their stalls. This is reflected in their interactions- a wary competitiveness, playful camaraderie. The buyers too seem more talkative, asking questions “Are these melons sweet, why is this so expensive, the guys down there are selling it for cheaper… “. They share their recipes and butt in ahead of you.
My town doesn’t have a proper outdoor market. It once did but modern lifestyles couldn’t support it. Most couples work or study full time which leaves little room for souk style errands. Sadly, large anonymous shopping centers have taken their place. Whenever I do have an opportunity, I travel to Ramle, a mixed Arab and Jewish town in central Israel which boosts a small yet diverse outdoor market.
I’ve become acquainted with Ramle’s market through the years and know how to forage like a local- the Indian grocery supply curry leaves, basil seeds and bitter gourd, a Moroccan spice store stocks up on pickled truffles, the Arab vendors hawk fresh chicory and chickpeas, the herb stand supplies green fenugreek and summer savory. It is a place familiar and yet continually changing with the seasons.
While Ramle’s market is a vibrant, colorful hub, the town struggles. Crime and unemployment are high. Those with potential inevitably move out of the beleaguered neighborhood. The chiseled stone architecture and elaborate metal ornaments are remnants of a more prosperous time. Napoleon set foot here. Sultan Salah a-Din restored the great White Mosque. Now only the Mayan like White Tower remains. The beauty of the town is seen through the refuse of daily life-gritty, real and unapologetic.
I can buy most of my ordinary food supplies close to home but there are a few things difficult to find in my homogenous town. The garlic-mobile never made its annual visit and I was running dangerously low. When Liz Steinberg, of the famous Café Liz blog suggested we head out to Ramle, I thought it was a great idea. It was my first time at the souk with a bouncing baby boy- I had forgotten how this can trigger conversations with even the most taciturn. Cute little Danny with the perpetual smile was impossible to ignore. Even the garlic-pumpkin vendor, whose gruff voice I heard only for business suddenly brought out his cell phone to share pictures of his neighbor’s baby. I realized then that I don’t come to Ramle only to stock up on food but for the people too. Mostly because of the people.
Other posts about Ramle Market:
Street Food Tour of Ramle Shuk
Little India, food and spice in Ramle
Shuk: The Ramla Open-Air Market
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