On a recent afternoon, I heard the call of “Batata! Bsla!” (Potato! Onion!) from the street and went to my balcony to attempt to capture a scene that I will miss next year: a truck, loaded with a ton of one or two kinds of fruits or vegetables, parks in front of my building, always the same intersection. One or two guys yell out the name of what they’re selling, and the price. Always in rials*, always in a rhythmic, sing-songy voice. If you’re out of the item in question, or can’t resist a bargain, you run downstairs and buy a few kilos. It’s easier to bring home ten kilos of potatoes when you’re in front of your house.
It’s not so much that I need ten kilos of anything (except maybe oranges to make fresh-squeezed juice…hm…), I just love the experience. I always have to explain to the truck guys that I just can’t buy ten kilos of onions, because they will go bad before my roommate and I can finish them off.
*A rial is a unit of dirhams–twenty, to be exact.