I didn't wake up very early today (incidentally, the only reason I am up right now is that my flatmate woke me up at 1 am to watch Battlestar Galactica), and as I wasn't going to get any work done, I decided to hit some of the weekend markets.
First stop was the Portobello Road market. This is probably the most upscale one in London. Sure, you can buy a fruit, a clash t-shirt, or a pashmina here (like at any other London market), but it is mostly known for antiques. There are definitely some pretty cool things for sale. Antique cameras, WWI era maps, vintage Guinness advertisements, suits of armor! All of which is a more than a bit out of my price range at this point. It is very quaint:
Whenever I am in any of these markets, I always wish that my grandmother was with me. I simply don't know HOW to buy fruit:
or meat:
or fish:
The health implications of me trying to pick out food from anywhere but a grocery could be grim. I don't think many of us Americans know how to select proper food in such a situation. I would overpay for something that wouldn't taste very good. My yiayia, on the other hand, is still connected enough with the economy in its most basic form that she could utilize any such market maximally. I should go shopping with her as much as possible when I get back to the US.
The end of the road is a bit more typical... there ARE cheap TVs, t-shirts, and bootlegged cd's for sale. There was also a guy handing out flyers for some reggae concert.
Once again, I recognized this guy by his face. I went to a Lee Scratch Perry concert two years ago and this guy was one of the fakestafarians handing out flyers there too. I realize that if someone told me that they NEVER forget a face, I would think they were spewing self-aggrandizing bullshit. I don't think I remember everyone I saw at the Indy 500 in 1992... but if I'm looking at people in more or less a single file, or if they say ANYTHING to me, there's a good chance I'll remember them.
In any event, my digital camera crapped out, so I've had to resort to using my phone to take pictures. It is a big cumbersome and doesn't have much range. (I hope I can get some decent shots of Chinese New Year tomorrow! I also want to take pictures of things I see in a typical day.)
Since most people in the US haven't ever seen a fakestafarian (and no, the guy at IU with the dreadlocks and Greatful Dead yarmulke doesn't count) , I thought I would take this guy's picture. I'm sure most of you can get the "picture" though without a lengthy description. Essentially a wigger who thinks hes Jamaican as opposed to African-American.
Well, it was dark and I was having trouble getting this guy's picture. My future with the CIA is in doubt as the guy busted me in the act (and ok, this was probably like the 5th time I had tried).
He walked up to me and:
Who are you?
....
Why are you trying to take my picture? (Humorously enough, he reverted to an English as opposed to his fake Jamaican accent here)
I'm not trying to take your picture.
WHO ARE YOU? (He started to get a bit belligerent here. At this point I glared up at him, I was acting like I was taking pictures of other things and hadn't made eye contact yet... and he got a bit scared and stepped back. I was thinking what to say. The first thing that crossed my mind was to say that work for MI5... or better the CIA and that we were watching him. Then I thought I could be benevolent and tell him I work for Time Out magazine and we're doing an article on Rasta culture. But what came out of my mouth was...)
I work for Prince Ermias Sahle-Selassie Haile-Selassie. The royal family is planning a return to power in Zion and is guaging the support of loyal followers of Haile Selassie in Britain. We will need British support.
(the guy got wide eyed)
Oh, we must support the royal family... (I cut him off)
I must go now, I have work to do.
After I did this, I feel really badly about it. First of all, for someone who HATES having his picture taken, taking someone's picture w/o their permission is pretty hypocritical. Fucking with this guy's head a la Hunter Thompson (if you ever read his "interviews" he does this to people all the time... telling a guy in a bar at the Kentucky Derby that he is a Playboy photographer in town to cover an anti-Nixon riot instigated by blacks... etc.) is really malicious. He cornered me an I didn't know what else to do. Tell him: "Well, I want to post a picture of you in my blog for ridicule?" or "I'm kind of crazy and I recognized you from handing out leaflets in front of the Hackney Empire 2 years ago?" Poor addled guy. Now I can't post the picture that I DID get of him (to be honest, it's not to clear anyway).
Next I went to Camden Town. Camden town has a market that is kind of like a Middle Eastern souk in that it is covered and cavernous. Except here they sell weed smoking accessories, bondage gear, cds (from reggae to the latest club beats), REALLY trendy club clothes, punk rock gear, tennis shoes, African tribal drums.... many pretty cool as well as pretty ridiculous items. You can also buy a Chinese meal for 2 pounds.
Chinese people seem to be running every other stall. It is one thing to see them selling Hello Kitty bags or lo mein, but to see Chinese people selling fiteer or Motorhead jackets! It reminds me of a souk I went to in Alexandria. I (thought) I was the only non-Arab there. The shoppers were mostly middle aged women and the things for sale were for the most part mundane, linens, cutlery, clothes...It wasn't upscale nor in a particularly nice neighborhood. And lo and behold, there were Chinese people selling towels and galabiyas! (Incidentally, I did NOT end up buying a galabiya...I'm not Rudolph Valentino after all) I REALLY wanted to find out if they spoke English, but I was under strict instructions not to speak any English in there and was limited to saying la'a and aiwa (no and yes) to my chaperone's comments (which were unintelligible to me). Are there not enough merchants in Egypt? Is there a better life to be had in some dingy souk in the middle of al-Iskandariya than in China? Certainly challenges MY economic as well as cultural assumptions...
Camden Town is quite a vibrant place. As far as interesting things to look at, it is probably the best market in London. I shall have to investigate further in the future. Though I can do without the dozen Brits practicing on African tribal drums. It is like a bad Tarzan movie from the fifties. It's not so easy to play the durbeki.
After wandering in the market for awhile, I had really overpriced Greek food... and the desserts were terrible once again. 3 pound for THREE loukoumades! My search for good Greek food continues.
??/??/? DP?
First stop was the Portobello Road market. This is probably the most upscale one in London. Sure, you can buy a fruit, a clash t-shirt, or a pashmina here (like at any other London market), but it is mostly known for antiques. There are definitely some pretty cool things for sale. Antique cameras, WWI era maps, vintage Guinness advertisements, suits of armor! All of which is a more than a bit out of my price range at this point. It is very quaint:
Whenever I am in any of these markets, I always wish that my grandmother was with me. I simply don't know HOW to buy fruit:
or meat:
or fish:
The health implications of me trying to pick out food from anywhere but a grocery could be grim. I don't think many of us Americans know how to select proper food in such a situation. I would overpay for something that wouldn't taste very good. My yiayia, on the other hand, is still connected enough with the economy in its most basic form that she could utilize any such market maximally. I should go shopping with her as much as possible when I get back to the US.
The end of the road is a bit more typical... there ARE cheap TVs, t-shirts, and bootlegged cd's for sale. There was also a guy handing out flyers for some reggae concert.
Once again, I recognized this guy by his face. I went to a Lee Scratch Perry concert two years ago and this guy was one of the fakestafarians handing out flyers there too. I realize that if someone told me that they NEVER forget a face, I would think they were spewing self-aggrandizing bullshit. I don't think I remember everyone I saw at the Indy 500 in 1992... but if I'm looking at people in more or less a single file, or if they say ANYTHING to me, there's a good chance I'll remember them.
In any event, my digital camera crapped out, so I've had to resort to using my phone to take pictures. It is a big cumbersome and doesn't have much range. (I hope I can get some decent shots of Chinese New Year tomorrow! I also want to take pictures of things I see in a typical day.)
Since most people in the US haven't ever seen a fakestafarian (and no, the guy at IU with the dreadlocks and Greatful Dead yarmulke doesn't count) , I thought I would take this guy's picture. I'm sure most of you can get the "picture" though without a lengthy description. Essentially a wigger who thinks hes Jamaican as opposed to African-American.
Well, it was dark and I was having trouble getting this guy's picture. My future with the CIA is in doubt as the guy busted me in the act (and ok, this was probably like the 5th time I had tried).
He walked up to me and:
Who are you?
....
Why are you trying to take my picture? (Humorously enough, he reverted to an English as opposed to his fake Jamaican accent here)
I'm not trying to take your picture.
WHO ARE YOU? (He started to get a bit belligerent here. At this point I glared up at him, I was acting like I was taking pictures of other things and hadn't made eye contact yet... and he got a bit scared and stepped back. I was thinking what to say. The first thing that crossed my mind was to say that work for MI5... or better the CIA and that we were watching him. Then I thought I could be benevolent and tell him I work for Time Out magazine and we're doing an article on Rasta culture. But what came out of my mouth was...)
I work for Prince Ermias Sahle-Selassie Haile-Selassie. The royal family is planning a return to power in Zion and is guaging the support of loyal followers of Haile Selassie in Britain. We will need British support.
(the guy got wide eyed)
Oh, we must support the royal family... (I cut him off)
I must go now, I have work to do.
After I did this, I feel really badly about it. First of all, for someone who HATES having his picture taken, taking someone's picture w/o their permission is pretty hypocritical. Fucking with this guy's head a la Hunter Thompson (if you ever read his "interviews" he does this to people all the time... telling a guy in a bar at the Kentucky Derby that he is a Playboy photographer in town to cover an anti-Nixon riot instigated by blacks... etc.) is really malicious. He cornered me an I didn't know what else to do. Tell him: "Well, I want to post a picture of you in my blog for ridicule?" or "I'm kind of crazy and I recognized you from handing out leaflets in front of the Hackney Empire 2 years ago?" Poor addled guy. Now I can't post the picture that I DID get of him (to be honest, it's not to clear anyway).
Next I went to Camden Town. Camden town has a market that is kind of like a Middle Eastern souk in that it is covered and cavernous. Except here they sell weed smoking accessories, bondage gear, cds (from reggae to the latest club beats), REALLY trendy club clothes, punk rock gear, tennis shoes, African tribal drums.... many pretty cool as well as pretty ridiculous items. You can also buy a Chinese meal for 2 pounds.
Chinese people seem to be running every other stall. It is one thing to see them selling Hello Kitty bags or lo mein, but to see Chinese people selling fiteer or Motorhead jackets! It reminds me of a souk I went to in Alexandria. I (thought) I was the only non-Arab there. The shoppers were mostly middle aged women and the things for sale were for the most part mundane, linens, cutlery, clothes...It wasn't upscale nor in a particularly nice neighborhood. And lo and behold, there were Chinese people selling towels and galabiyas! (Incidentally, I did NOT end up buying a galabiya...I'm not Rudolph Valentino after all) I REALLY wanted to find out if they spoke English, but I was under strict instructions not to speak any English in there and was limited to saying la'a and aiwa (no and yes) to my chaperone's comments (which were unintelligible to me). Are there not enough merchants in Egypt? Is there a better life to be had in some dingy souk in the middle of al-Iskandariya than in China? Certainly challenges MY economic as well as cultural assumptions...
Camden Town is quite a vibrant place. As far as interesting things to look at, it is probably the best market in London. I shall have to investigate further in the future. Though I can do without the dozen Brits practicing on African tribal drums. It is like a bad Tarzan movie from the fifties. It's not so easy to play the durbeki.
After wandering in the market for awhile, I had really overpriced Greek food... and the desserts were terrible once again. 3 pound for THREE loukoumades! My search for good Greek food continues.
??/??/? DP?
posted by akrites @ 7:38 AM
1 Comments:
At 11:39 AM,
Omar said…
You should see the way my aunts (and uncles) bargain at the markets. They all have a distinct style. One of my aunts is very mean, another kills you with kindness, another is well respected for speaking good punjabi and her confidence. My uncles also have a style all their own. The mean bargainer's husband will become their best friend and joke around a lot (usually at my expense). The sweet aunt's husband speaks softly but carries a big stick...literally! He walks into markets and bazaars with a stick and his chest puffed and points to things for them to pull out and display for him. My point is that we will never have these skills and we must keep those that do very close.
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