I Have Found my Fruit Man....

I love everything about the fruit stands in third world countries. I love buying fruit from them. I love watching people and their interactions with each other while they buy and sell fruit. I love just seeing the stands - there is something so lovely about it that I can't quite explain. I especially like the sellers that sell from baskets attached to bicycles or better yet, donkeys. I even like seeing the stacks of empty wicker crates after they unload the fruit. Really. I love everything about them. I realize this more than ever when I look through pictures that I have taken (both here in Egypt and in other countries) and realize that there are more pictures of fruit stands than of anything else (with the exception of little Jemma) So what is it? Is it some romanticized vision of a simple life walking along with your donkey friend selling mangos? ( I recognize that this is not accurate or fair at all and odd in fact for I don't have the same silly perception of the lives of people selling ANYTHING other than fruit) Is it the way they use an old fashioned balance with weights and if how much you have taken weighs too much or too little they either add another of whatever item you are buying or take some out...without a thought? Is it the randomness of it when they turn to you and give you an amount that you owe (which of course is nowhere near the real price)? Is it nothing more than the bright colours and the way they are stacked next to each other?

Anyway, when I first arrived I was visiting different fruit stands. There was the one where the seller always asked me to be his fourth wife and the one where the man always made his son talk to me (I assume because he wanted his son to learn English) - our conversations consist

ed of "My name is Melissa", "My name is Mohamed", which we would repeat a few times (it should be known that I loved this fruit seller but he was never there when I tried to go back and some creepy man was at his stand instead). There are also many who insist on talking to me in full Arabic sentence despite my very clear lack of understanding. Sometimes they would repeat it a few times, sometimes slower, sometimes louder - as if this

would help. So it was hard to narrow it down to one but I have done it... I now have my Egyptian fruit man and life is grand. We are always happy to see each other... I try my hand at Arabic conversation and I think he thinks I understand more of what he says than I do (which is next to none) and as I leave he always gives me a present - typically a peach or some mint. But it isn't the free mint... I think that having someone who knows you are and expects you every few days goes a long way to making a place feel like home. See you tomorrow fruit man!

This post is dedicated to my darling brother - the original fruit master.