Markets Are About More Than the Goods We Buy
From Portland to Paris, they’ve taught me a lot
Saturdays were meant for jogs along the Willamette River, and a trip to the farmer’s market after. I was living in Portland, Oregon then, which was a good place to be if you enjoyed long distance running and good, local food.
Though, my favorite part about the farmer’s market wasn’t the food — it was the people.
I was living alone in a studio apartment and craving connection with others. In such a big city, you’d think that wouldn’t be hard to find. But outside of the weekly church services and dinners I attended, I was incredibly lonely.
The farmer’s market, which takes place in the center of the Portland State University campus, distracted me from my loneliness. I had my favorite vendors, who knew me by name, and with whom I visited with weekly.
Coming from a small town, large markets like this enthralled me.
I’d see women in beautiful dresses, and couples trying to decide which bouquet to bring home.
I’d listen to birds sing and live music echo off the tall buildings that surrounded; those waiting in line for their savory crepes or tamales would gently sway their hips under the trees while children laughed.
