Kodaikanal's Sunday Market
Making holiday WalMart shopping seem like a dream
It’s already October and I know what we’re missing not being in the States. Fall and holiday decor deals are bringing droves of people to the stores and Halloween inventory probably started cropping up 2 months ago. Heck, there might even be a hint o’ Christmas on some shelves already. Now, I love me some Bergamot/Cedar scented tapered candles marked down 30% as much as the next person but what I do not love are the crowds that come along with those deals.
Crowds can bring out the worst in people sometimes. There is something in our brain that equates crowds to implied scarcity. Implied scarcity screams at us that there isn’t going to be enough for everyone, true or not. That thought and the sight of adorable woven rattan woodland creatures on the Clearance shelves at Target used to be enough to send me into a FOMO frenzy AT ONE POINT IN TIME. (Hence my hefty fall mantle display of squirrels and possums). I’d like to say that maturity and personal growth has changed my shopping behavior and how I look at “stuff” and maybe it has. That theory cannot be put to the test, though, until we go back to the States, and I am once again put face to face and toe to toe with the Achilles heel of my life, Target.
While there is no Trader Joe’s, Lowe’s or Starbucks in Kodaikanal, there is one place here that keeps the crowds coming rain or shine, no matter the month or season, and that’s the Sunday market. How can I properly describe the Sunday market, you might be wondering? How does one describe a slurry of loud noises, strange smells, and ornate colors? The answer is that I can’t, but I’ll do my best to try.
The Sunday market here is set on an uphill (or downhill, depending on which end of the road you enter) narrow street. Vendors set up their area, staking claim by laying down a tarp or blanket and arrange their products in varying and attractive ways. Some choose baskets or crates to corral their wares and display them at different levels but many others keep it simple and just heap them in piles next to one another.
Freshly scrubbed, striking orange carrots might lay aside deep purple onions that are placed adjacent to bright green hot peppers. The arrangements are gorgeous and do the trick of drawing both your attention and your rupees to the local farmer presenting their eye-catching produce. The fruits and vegetables are not the only source of vibrancy at the market, as the women who patronize this weekly display are also wearing their radiant Sunday-best saris and kurtas. It is truly a sight to be seen.
Cows and motorbikes, and sometimes even cars, jockey for position through the seemingly ever-narrowing channel one must navigate to enter or exit this weekly event. Like scooping dry sand in a bucket, people seem to fill every available inch of space created by anyone else moving around them. It is a graphic, chaotically woven tapestry, deeply sensory and curiously precise in its choreography. How anyone stays standing on their own two feet, let alone actually buying food, is as much of a mystery as Dark Matter, yet every Sunday it happens thousands of times here.
Diesel is the fuel of choice in this region and fumes from the occasional lorry hang in the air until they are replaced with the fragrance of freshly picked jasmine flowers. Continue walking and that perfumed scent is replaced by the fishmongers’ daily catch. Another few yards, and you’ll be struck by the aroma of ripe guava. Their waxy green skin juxtaposed against their blushy pink flesh, piled high and just waiting for you to fill your dining table fruit bowl to almost overflowing with them.
We are a large family, and our cook makes 2 fresh meals each day, 6 days each week, but we can easily fulfill a week’s worth of fruit and vegetable needs for roughly $8. That is not a typo. For less than one hour of minimum wage work in the United States, we can buy bundles of fresh curry leaves, bunches of cilantro, kilos of green beans and onions, hill bananas, coconuts, guava, sour sop, and so much more. The only thing we worry about is our shoulder joint holding out while we make the kilometer walk home, but we never ever fret over the expense.
Obviously there are other things we purchase at local shops that we can’t get at the Sunday market or can get at better prices, but the satisfaction we receive from the fresh, local, family-owned shopping there is priceless.
This past Sunday was part of a 3-day weekend, and the crowds were at maximum capacity. In fact, it was the most crowded I’ve seen so far. People yelling, cows sauntering, motorbikes beeping. It is an assault on the senses when you experience it for the first few times, but I think I’ve come to a realization. The stress that came along with parking, seeing empty shelves and out-of-stock signs, and waiting in checkout lanes in the United States simply does not exist at the Sunday market. If a vendor runs out of potatoes then there are a dozen more areas to choose from. There is no fear-factor that riles the crowd up and switches everyone into fight or flight mode. The crowds are there but the frenzy is not. I don’t know what this intangible “thing” is that keeps us fairly calm in the mele of this massive consumer crowd, but if Target finds it and candles it, I’ll be the first in line to purchase! Probably just online though.