Every town here has one. A central square. In Sucre, it’s the ‘Plaza 25 de Mayo’. We go there most days to sit on the benches shaded by palm trees and watch the world pass by. Campesinos sell woven bracelets, bags and belts from brightly coloured striped blanket bundles that they sling over one shoulder. Ragged children sell corn to feed the pigeons, loose sweets … Continue reading Plaza 25 de Mayo. Sucre.
A feast for the eyes. Abundance. Vivid colour. It makes the mouth water and the stomach rumble. The amazing Mercado Central screams life and sustenance. Fruit and vegetables piled high and displayed like works of art. Huge pumpkins hacked into halves and quarters to reveal soft orange flesh. An old woman laboriously shelling fresh peas into a bowl nestled between her legs. Mini-mountains of mauve-skinned … Continue reading The Mercado Central of Sucre.
It’s like being a child. Back to square one. Frustrating and marvellous. In some ways not being able to talk to people is a blessing. You rely on other things, become better at reading body language, smile more, listen harder. Maybe it’s more about understanding the other, than getting your own message across. I cannot remember the time when I could not talk, and this … Continue reading Spanish and Sucre.