The grocery store itself was dull. La Union, ironically owned by WalMart is bright and clean and filled with all the same sorts of things you’d find in the States. We needed some easily transportable snack foods as we will be hitting the road soon – by bus – and watermelons and papayas don’t do well in back packs.
I did have a “People of WalMart” sighting, but chose not to take a photo…a drag queen. A young man with poorly bleached hair and garish 1970s-style make up was bent over the make up counter. She was wearing a conservative skirt and a bright tank top. She giggled loudly while chatting with the clerk and drew much attention. I think, though, that the other shoppers were less bothered by her gender line blending than by her lack of polite decorum in the store.
On the streets, stores of every kind were popping up on the sidewalk and tumbling out of homes. On a much smaller scale than in the Centro Mercado, but randomly.
More people from the rural areas seemed to be coming in in horse drawn carts to sell or buy or both. Carts were unloading or parked along the curb.
I sat for a few minutes on a concrete and tile stool outside an abandoned restaurant to watch the comings and goings along the highway on a Saturday morning. I felt a little self conscious, though no one seemed to notice the gringa with her shopping bag.
So I gathered my groceries and went back to the room for breakfast.