To the Market, to the Market: On Sights, Smells, and Insights.

A series of collages, designed to replicate the market viewing experience in Nakhon Phanom:

From left to right: cucumbers, yai and lek, fish heads, fresh produce

From left: bags of dried chili, rubber flip flops, fresh curries

From left, to right: grilled squid with tumeric, heaps of dragonfruit in season, woven sticky rice carriers

From left, to right: fresh vegetables sai tung, ripe pumpkin in season, tomatoes and limes

from left, to right: desserty-licious custard apples, silks for sale, boiled peanuts

Were the array of images dizzying and arbitrary? An overload for the senses? If I could somehow convey not just the sights, but also the varying sounds and the smells constituting the market, I would. My usual market (talat) is chaotic, noisome, and loud.  Therefore, I look forward to making my usual rounds to buy food and other etcetera items for the house. One of the biggest ways I've adjusted to life in Nakhon Phanom has surprisingly been the happy preoccupations of the domestic sort, and going to the market has become now become an act of effortless meditation, amidst the disorder and noise around me. Navigating various stalls of produce, meats, clothing, shoes, and other knick knacks has infused Zen into my life.

The market is redolent of discordant aromas: the trail of smells, from the roasting meats on a spitting fire, to the chili and spices, to the fragrant fruits and vegetables, the pungent herbs, to the distinct stench of raw meat, defy the sterile and emotionally arid supermarkets of the States. Here, the markets follow a faint sense of order and category; divisions between produce, meat, and textiles are more guidelines rather than rules. It won't be out of the ordinary to find an island of butchered fish-heads next to heaps of rubber flip flops for sale. Nor rows of raw seafood next to a coconut drink stand.

Despite my unflinching yearning for organization (now buried deep within my consciousness), I find the dissonance about the market appealing. You don't take a stand for granted, and each one will stand on its own. You have to vigilant-- since the produce stands are scattered, you don't want to settle on a mundane tomato and stumble upon an incredibly vibrant one, freshly plucked from the vine. All the colors stand out. The activity is so bustling and stimulating. People-watching becomes an inevitable activity to complement the shopping.

One of my favorite things about the fresh / night markets here in NKP is the glowing karma of the foods you buy. Produce is local, and you buy directly from the farmer (yes farmer's markets are predominant around here) or the producer. Moreover, produce here come in seasons, so you never buy a product forced to flourish at the wrong times, and you have something to look forward to in various periods of the year. This month, dragonfruit is in season; their hot pink skins glow in the color palette of September's markets! 


It goes on without saying that the best thing about buying food... is eating it! While I cross things off my shopping list, it's very easy to satisfy my cravings by munching on a snack, whether it's a grilled meat on a stick, fruit, or a dessert of some kind. My go-to is usually a bag of sour mango and the complimentary sugar, salt, and chili dip.

Fruit a la carte

I will surely miss the Sunday and mid-week routine of dropping by the fresh markets in my village. I'm sure I will find some farmer's market to lose myself in, but none that can compare to the sights, sounds, and smells of the fresh markets in Thailand.