"In a colorful and crowded part of town, a whole world exists known as the
Mercado. A place of wonder, it is a lively maze of vendors, booths, products, and produce. Entering through a small stone doorway, my friend and I are immediately absorbed into the scene, a part of the afternoon hub-bub and clamor. Gold necklaces and bracelets hang from pegs everywhere, true evidence of local territory since only tourists want silver. The stalls are tiny and closely clustered, the corridors narrow and tightly packed. We move our way slowly through the commotion and commercialism, pausing to watch the goldsmiths hunched over their machines. Next we break into a central walkway, which, though wider, still lacks space. The walls are lined with foodstands and cheap religious knickknacks. Sweet old women, small and wrinkly, sit amongst their buckets of flowers. Despite the fresh floral arrangements, the thick heavy smell of 'market' still fills our nostrils.

In the produce section, the fruit is arranged in colorful mounds according to type. There are mountains of mangos, zapote, mamey, guava, limes, bananas, papaya, watermelon, and another dozen unknown types of fruit forming a delicious and delightful landscape of flavors and colors. One woman shaves off a piece of a fruit that is pink with petals: it tastes like kiwi with a similar texture.

Turning around we face the butchery. Oh what a sight! Rows of counters and metal hanging racks fill the room. It faintly, and barely, reminds me of an operating room, but the floor is dirty and the knives here don't cut with re-construction in mind. Suspended from hooks hang 'parts'. The most easily identifiable is pig, and that is simply because of the huge heads looking blankly around the room. Most of the other meat is shapeless and fleshy. The strong smell and warm room forces us to leave. Slightly sickened, we decide to try some of the traditional candy to revive our senses.

The dulce (candy) section is no less incredible than the others. Looking at the endless packages of chili-dipped sweets, we are unable to determine the differences between them. We select one that resembles a spicy red fruit-roll-up, and a much 'safer' stick of coconut. Before munching on our purchases, we speak to a woman sitting on a stool. She agrees to take our picture and I explain how to use my camera. Smiling, I whisper to my friend that I don't think she has ever held a camera before. Sure enough, she holds the camera at her chest level and pushes the button. Maybe she got our knees! It was precious and we thank her profusely. Judging by the amount of jabanero peppers for sale, they must actually be used in food. This particular pepper is small and green: an appearance that looks harmless; however, its fierce reputation and spicy bite make grown men cry. We avoid sampling it and head home, very much contented by the sights we had seen in Merida's market.

It was a day I'll not soon forget."