To Market We Will Go

I know it's Sunday morning because of the staccato rhythm of horse hooves on the road. They're on their way to the local market. Today Ron and I are going, too. We're on the look out for a door. We take the car, but pass a lot of carts on the way. I'm thinking it would be nice if there was this much excitement for Sunday Church services.

We arrive earlier than most, and find the field behind the gypsy homes coming to life.

(Gypsy tribes have a hierarchy, and money earned is funneled up. These homes beside Ron are owned by some gypsies higher in rank.)

The three rows of vendors at first seem confusing, but things are almost as organized as Walmart. Walmart can't beat their prices, though. During this September visit, we find 1 kg (2.5 lbs) of peppers for $0.66, and the same amount of tomatoes for half that!

The colorful scarf, braided hair, and tiered skirt is typical dress for a gypsy.

All this great produce should make you jealous. Are you sure you aren't "called" to Romania?

Of course, if you are called and die here, the market has you covered. Some of these tombstones have pictures already on them. How does that work???

As I walk down this isle, I am reminded of the Iowa State Fair. No free pencils, though. We end up buying a door, but pass on the furniture...

...and the sheepskins.