Flea market drama at El Rastro
Last month, my host family attempted to take me to El Rastro, Europe's largest flea market located in here in Madrid. This expansive flea market that overflows into meandering side streets is a popular destination for los Madrileños (those who live in Madrid) as well as for many tourists. The tree lined main street, Calle de la Ribera de Curtidores is jam packed with vendors selling, fake CDs/DVDs and cheap products made in Asia. But, traffic was virtually stalled and we couldn't find a parking spot, so we drove back home. Although this venture was relatively fruitless, it brought back vivid memories of my first visit to El Rastro last September with my mother and sister.
Flashback to September
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| Calle de la Ribera de Curtidores |
To give our shopping trip a purpose, we decided to look for a much needed household item – a teapot. Mugs are relatively small here, so a teapot would enable us to brew several cups at a time. We headed to side streets where we found all sorts of merchants and antique sellers, which at times looked like they were emptying their junk drawers or closets. One crafty vendor made handbags out of LP records – that's one way to recycle. I passed on buying one of these record bags, and if it's the next big trend, I made the wrong move.
After passing multiple vendors displaying an odd assortment of used items, we saw a coffee pot made of beautiful porcelain manufactured in Bavaria, Germany. The coffee pot was tall and slender as opposed to a short and squat teapot. But, as long as teabags could brew inside, did it matter? When asked the price "¿Cuanto cuesta?" I was pleasantly surprised to hear the vendor mumble, "Tres euros." "Really, only three euros? What a deal!" I thought. However, my mother blurted out in complete disgust, "Tres euros, para eso? No, no, es muy caro." I was shocked at how my mother so vehemently disagreed with the already low price, and also with her fast reflex in Spanish. However, once I caught a glimpse of my mother's eye, I knew she was playing the bargaining game just for fun. The vendor relented, and for two euros, he handed us the coffee pot, but no bag.
Are we supposed to walk through overcrowded streets carrying a coffee pot as if we were going to serve a refreshment to people along the way? This time, I spoke up and convinced the vendor to give us some old newspaper and a bag. It was my job to carry the coffee pot, protect the coffee pot and return home with our coffee pot, for our mission was complete. We had found what we had set out to find.
After passing multiple vendors displaying an odd assortment of used items, we saw a coffee pot made of beautiful porcelain manufactured in Bavaria, Germany. The coffee pot was tall and slender as opposed to a short and squat teapot. But, as long as teabags could brew inside, did it matter? When asked the price "¿Cuanto cuesta?" I was pleasantly surprised to hear the vendor mumble, "Tres euros." "Really, only three euros? What a deal!" I thought. However, my mother blurted out in complete disgust, "Tres euros, para eso? No, no, es muy caro." I was shocked at how my mother so vehemently disagreed with the already low price, and also with her fast reflex in Spanish. However, once I caught a glimpse of my mother's eye, I knew she was playing the bargaining game just for fun. The vendor relented, and for two euros, he handed us the coffee pot, but no bag.
Are we supposed to walk through overcrowded streets carrying a coffee pot as if we were going to serve a refreshment to people along the way? This time, I spoke up and convinced the vendor to give us some old newspaper and a bag. It was my job to carry the coffee pot, protect the coffee pot and return home with our coffee pot, for our mission was complete. We had found what we had set out to find.
The journey home through crowds of thousands squeezed into tiny streets was not easy. I was bumped and jolted while cradling the package close to my body. When we finally arrived in our apartment, I unwrapped our prized purchase only to find it broken in half. Noooooooo, not our coffee pot! We were quite upset for our glorious day came crashing apart – literally.
However, after further examination, the break was clean and repairable with a four euro tube of super glue - twice what we paid for the coffee pot in the first place! Hardly visible, we successfully used our coffee pot, which brewed four tasty cups of tea every morning for three months - until our luck ran out. Little by little, hot tea started seeping through the crack, and by the fifth month, we had to put our coffee pot in a cereal bowl because we lost about a half cup of tea every morning. One morning, we looked at our injured coffee pot as it appeared ready to bust apart, which would have caused a breakfast disaster with a flood of hot tea. Our solution to put a rubber band around it calmed our anxiety. But, by the end of the fifth month, the tea seepage was excessive and we realized the inevitable had to happen, farewell dear coffee pot.
However, after further examination, the break was clean and repairable with a four euro tube of super glue - twice what we paid for the coffee pot in the first place! Hardly visible, we successfully used our coffee pot, which brewed four tasty cups of tea every morning for three months - until our luck ran out. Little by little, hot tea started seeping through the crack, and by the fifth month, we had to put our coffee pot in a cereal bowl because we lost about a half cup of tea every morning. One morning, we looked at our injured coffee pot as it appeared ready to bust apart, which would have caused a breakfast disaster with a flood of hot tea. Our solution to put a rubber band around it calmed our anxiety. But, by the end of the fifth month, the tea seepage was excessive and we realized the inevitable had to happen, farewell dear coffee pot.
Our excursion to El Rasto provided us with adventure, drama and months of laughter, all because we needed a pot to brew tea. How could a return trip ever replicate that?
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