My People, tomatoes, and a persimmon

For those who know me well, you have probably heard me refer to my people.  I am a very pleasant person, unless you cross my people.  My people are my priority.  So, you can imagine my distress when I returned from a six-day trip to the provinces to see my market barren.  Nothing but bags of trash rolling like tumble weeds where my fruit lady once eagerly greeted me. Piles of decomposing waste in the place of the vegetable lady who was always so concerned when I didn't buy tomatoes, because I always bought tomatoes.  Sparks flying as the covered stalls were methodically deconstructed.  My roommate and my longest-term friend Kate, who happened to be visiting from Korea, had to deal with my distress as I reached minor panic levels.  "Where did they go?  How does a whole market disappear?  Where will I buy my fruit?  She always knew what I wanted.  I have been going to that lady since I got here."  I was asking tuktuk drivers and literally anyone who might know what had happened to my market.  I even went to the next closest market and couldn't bring myself to buy any vegetables, "I will find my market," I told my friend.  I don't know these people's names but I know a little of their stories and I know their faces and I appreciate their joyful greetings when I walk by.  These are my people.

My landlord, finally, was out front of the house about 12 hours after I discovered the missing market and informed me they had moved.  He also provided the general direction as to where I could find my people.  If I hadn't run into him, I was going to knock on the landlord's door this afternoon and ask where my market had gone.  Literally, as soon as my friend Kate was loaded in a tuktuk to the airport (despite my urge to blubber since one of my people just left me) I struck out to find my market people (think village people, but they are wearing Cambodian clothes and I am not sure they would get the YMCA).

A few minutes walk past where the old market was at, I followed the stream of women with plastic baskets, and soon saw tarps on the ground laden with vegetables and fruit.  Almost as soon as I rounded the corner I spotted my vegetable lady and, probably way too enthusiastically, greeted her from half way down the aisle.  Imagine that scene in every chick-flick movie where the girl realizes she is supposed to be with the boy and zeros in on him in a crowded place, all else falls silent and she walks with greet determination toward him, the crowds parting to let her through, and suddenly the world seems ok again.  It was kinda like that.

Veg-lady and I had not talked much before but I explained how I was so glad I found her because I came back from being away and the market was gone.  She told me two days ago they moved because they are putting an apartment building on that land (that was my guess).  I even got a half hug out of the deal.

Next, I went in search of my fruit lady and spotted her from a a decent distance.  She gave me a huge smile and a half hug as I again explained my distress at her not being where she always was (as my little sister would say, I may have some autistic tendencies, she was in the same place seven days/week for 10+ months, moving her was more than I could handle).  After assuring me this was her new location, I somehow ended up with a kilo of apples/pomegranates.  I had no idea what fruit I wanted when I came to the market, I just needed to know my people were ok.  And, because of my enthusiasm to find her, and my concern for her whereabouts, she threw in a free persimmon :)

Now, I just need to find my banana lady and my market family will again be complete.  With 2.2 pounds of fruit, I figured I probably really didn't need a bunch of bananas, too.  Though, I may have to find her tomorrow so I can sleep.

Oh, and don't worry, I bought tomatoes.