It is my turn (David) to bring you along and share a part of my day-to-day life here with a quick visit to the market.
It is 7 am as I leave the building; a soft ray of sunshine welcomes me with an appreciated freshness in the air. With my grocery bag, I go to the local market, 10 minutes away on foot. On the way, I see on my right hundreds of pigeons on top of each other pecking the ground to eat the food that has been offered. We learnt that this is all linked to the belief in reincarnation and the fact that if you give food in this life you will have plenty in the next life.
The streets are already very animated as people get up quite early. At this precise moment, I think of a discussion I had with a student who told me he thought he was “lazy” because he only wakes up at… 5:30 am and he wished he would be could wake up earlier to study more.
I get to the market and go straight to the vegetable stall where I already know the nice vendor, and I feel comfortable speaking to her as she inspires trust. So now is the time to put my Burmese into practice. I can see a lot of green stuff, of which I don’t even know the name in my mother tongue, let alone in English or even in Burmese. I point to some of them to know their names. However, it’s difficult for me to really understand what she is saying so I just nod and smile as if I could tick the box “understood”. In the end, I concentrate on the vegetables I know and will use. I ask for the prices and try to understand what she tells me in a combination of numbers and measuring units that vary depending on what you ask for.
The women nearby begin to smile, hearing me trying to speak their language and try helping me. I am the attraction of the stall and people stop to observe. The vendor asks me where I live and I am so proud I understood the question and I am able to answer her. When I have to pay, I totally trust her because I am completely lost in adding up everything. Suddenly, a young guy points to the ground and I see a banknote that fell from my pocket. I thank the guy and realise I feel totally safe in the market even though I definitely stick out in this environment.
Then, I go to the banana stall and look at all the different bunches. I get closer to one to see if it is ripe enough and the seller stops me with a black stare. Gulp! I realise that keeping my shoes on was a mistake. I go back, say sorry and take off my flip-flops. The custom here, when you go into a house, a temple and some of the shops, is to take off your shoes. Sheepish, I take note and tell myself I won’t make the same mistake again.
Finally, I end my journey at the fruit stall, see the first strawberries of the season and already imagine the delicious fruit juice for our breakfast. Here we are again with my next Burmese lesson with still another measuring unit for fruit. My Italian side comes out and I try to explain what I need with my hands. When I leave, I know I will have to review the complex measuring units specific to this country especially as it has been mixed with the already complex one inherited from the colonial period.
My bag is full and I go back home. Near the entrance, I meet the neighbour’s driver who asks me what I bought and I am happy to oblige, knowing I know how to say it in Burmese.
Going up the stairs, I remember all these nice encounters and conversations. It is 7:40 am, time to prepare the delicious fruit juice full of vitamins, as I think of our upcoming Burmese class.
