market day

I believe that, to some children, "market day" refers to a time when their mothers gather them into a small, boisterous flock and whisk them through rows of potatoes, carrots and apples. In my family, it was a time when our mother gathered us into a small, boisterous flock and whisked up through rows of cardboard boxes stuffed with frozen corn, eggrolls and chicken gems.

Market Day, you see, was the name given to an organization that supplied reasonably priced foods to mothers of school-aged children. The food was pre-ordered and then delivered to the cafeterias of local schools for pick-up between the hours of 5 and 6 pm. It really was a lovely arrangement (and provided a near endless supply of packing materials for Christmas presents: "oh, look! More French toast sticks! Just what I ... oh, look, there's six pairs of socks in here!"), though I can't help feeling it didn't fully embody the full market day experience.

Markets are really something America just doesn't do. Shopping malls, yes. Department stores, yes. Outdoor plazas, outlet malls, one-stop-shops, yes. But markets, no. Sure, there's Boston Market, but I think even they'd agree that's pushing things way farther than they were ever meant to go.

I don't remember what country I first went to a market in, but I remember being highly disappointed. I'd pictured picturesque rows of fresh produce, perhaps some bread, maybe some fish -- all very natural sorts of things. I'd envisioned brightly colored cloths, some soaps and homemade frocks. What I got were rows of tacky hair clips, baby gadgets and punk t-shirts. Flea markets, you see, America does do, and that was what I'd walked into and then out of.

I was disenchanted with markets for quite some time, figuring none of them were quite what they were cracked up to be. I traveled to various countries and checked out various markets with varying degrees of success. The Moroccan one probably came closest to authenticity for me, particularly when I found myself in the back streets of Marrakech. There might have been flies on the figs, but it fit my idea of a marketplace.

Marrakech, amazing as it was, was much too exotic to be home for me. After a bit more globe bopping, I ended up in Sydney (a notch or two up the cosmopolitan scale). I didn't have huge expectations regarding its markets, but I was curious enough to want to go.

Paddy's market was the one I heard the most about, and with good reason. It was huge. There was a plethora of fresh fruit and vegetables, meat and seafood, and nuts and chocolate. And that was just the food. It was enclosed, inside a humongous building, and there were many sections. Some were tackier than others, but the food alone was enough for me to credit it as a genuine market. I was impressed.

Then there were the Manly markets. They remain among my favorites. It's not that they're huge or even that they have food (they don't), but that they are not tacky. It's hard to find classy markets, but the Manly ones are the closest I've come. They're really like a mini, outdoor, beachy craft fair. There's some amazing artwork, some homemade clothing and a handful of similar goods. There's a Frenchman (perhaps his name is Pierre) who sells stunning photographs he's taken around the world, but I can't bring myself to buy something I persuade myself I could have created myself. I save my spending for the artwork I know definitively I could not produce, and have been pleased as punch with all my purchases: a vividly pink and orange dress, four beautiful beach scenes and a darling acrylic of a baby elephant. And I still want to buy a large picture display of Sydney memorabilia mixed with mirrors, but am saving up the cash for a flight and a surfboard first. Oh, yes, and rent, too.

The Circular Quay markets are quite similar to the Manly ones, and a bit bigger. I've enjoyed my time near them, though it's always seemed rushed. The Kirribilli markets, though, I've walked through often enough to be decently familiar with. They are, I find, a good mix of the artsy and the not-as-artsy. They are decently big in size (the whole of the area under the bridge, plus a good bit in the nearby park as well), and supply both food and goods. Of the food, they supply not only "to be prepared" food, but also "pre-prepared" food, ready to eat on the go. And it's not just greasy carnival food; most of it is a cultural experience -- Turkish, Japanese, Russian, etc. And what's more, the Kirribilli markets are right next door to my church's own fair trade markets (which, granted, are by far the smallest of the lot). They don't run as regularly as others, but make up for it with zest, heart and (this is by far the most winning attribute) free cupcakes.

The markets I've just visited for the first time, however, are the Glebe markets. Glebe is an artistic area of town to begin with, and its markets were no exception. I loved them.

Aside from the fact that they are located next to one of the more amazing chocolate shops in Sydney, they are what I'd think of when I think of markets. They reminded me of the Camden markets in London -- a bit more avant garde than most, and very colorful. What more could you want in a market? Food, I suppose, but being as there was, as aforementioned, already chocolate next door, I was perfectly willing to let that detail slide.

I think the best way to describe the Glebe markets is to point out that I was on the lookout for suitable attire for two possible parties, one Olde England and one Arabian Nights, and I found an ample supply of suitable attire for either, including those puffy, see-through Arabian pants. Granted, they only had them in red, but how often do you find puffy, see-through Arabian pants when you're not even wholeheartedly searching for them? Perhaps things have worked out differently for you, but I can tell you it doesn't happen to me every other day.

I was also excited at one point to find what I thought would make a fabulous magic carpet (every Arabian princess needs her prop, after all) and was set to inquire as to its price when my friend pointed out that, actually, it wasn't for sale, but for people who'd purchased chai to sit on as they sipped. Oh, well, there were some cushion covers that also looked more than able to double as magic carpets, should the need arise.

The clothes at the Glebe markets were rare finds as well -- no two pieces alike, and most extremely, for lack of a better word, cool. They looked like clothes you'd see on my always-artistically-fashionable friend, and I made a mental note to return when I needed a new piece to enhance my wardrobe.

One thing I did find was a little ceramic sugar bowl, which was serendipitous as I was having friends over that evening and had nothing to put my sugar in, save the bag it came in, which, I have heard, is not the most spiffing of options. Particularly as it's the off-brand.

There were so many other unusual and beautiful finds. My friend bought a lovely, intricately cut silhouette of a willow and kites blowing in the wind over a laundry line and children dancing. There was jewelry by the score, old books converted into blank books, purses painted like pianos and more. We browsed systematically for an hour or so, so as not to miss anything, then bade the market farewell.

But not for long. I hear market day comes again soon.