The waves hit the shore more vigorously, seagulls are louder than ever, and the breeze feels more purposeful; it feels like all of them are trying to please the sun by putting out a show for it, trying to crack its hesitation. The crisp air carries the intact freshness of a new day. Now that the sun slowly but surely starts showing itself, nature also seems like it is carrying new hopes, just like the people who hit the road for various reasons and salespeople who meet at the marketplace on the coast, intending to make as much as the profit they can make.
One of the first arrivers is a bulky man who seems like he is in his late fifties, and his son with quite the opposite features than his dad, very tall but considerably thin. They get out of the relatively small, white truck that they have arrived in and start bringing down the items that they have brought to sell. The son starts carrying. First, some chairs with damaged legs next, long shelves with glittering varnish, and some more chairs by far in a better condition than the previous ones… All carried by the thin man while his dad just stands there unbothered, suddenly the difference in their appearances make a ton of sense. While I try to make up my mind on how inconvenient it has to be to sell these pieces of furniture (even though they are not that big in size) in a marketplace like this one, the man eventually brings out the home goods, mostly wooden which are carved in with delicate precision. “Finally, something worth purchasing.” I think to myself. It makes total sense that they have arrived this early, witnessing the effort it takes to display all the goods.
Next are two old ladies, do they look alike? Hard to understand if they are sisters or just close friends. One with a long, loose, blue skirt down to her feet; her wrist stacked with bracelets, two necklaces wrapped around her neck, one longer with a huge, navy, flamboyant stone that complements her clothes in the best way possible, the other with a simple metal figure at the end. The glory of her necklaces makes it almost impossible to notice the small pair of glasses hanging next to them. She passionately goes behind her jewelry stand, polishing the silver necklaces with great care and placing the rings one after another. The other lady has a more simple style but still seems like she is a fan of rings. She sells vintage clothes, not jewelry. She first takes out shirts, skirts, and hats seemingly intended for an older base of customers, then another pile of clothes consisting of dresses, more skirts, and tracksuits intended mostly for teens. Another lady who is younger places her stand next to theirs with a warm greeting and a radiant smile. She has scarves to offer. She seems overdramatic while taking out the thin scarves and hanging them on a cylinder hanger, almost too scared to touch them as if they will break or she will end up hurting them. She then starts talking to the lady selling clothes, explaining how they are made from the best materials only. “Just silk and cashmere.” she keeps repeating sporadically. However, the old lady seems overly uninterested and irrelevant, as if she has been listening to her talk about the same thing since forever. I start sensing that the old lady’s subtle antipathy is not unidirectional, the younger lady does not seem to make an earnest effort to befriend them either, but just an effort to make her products seem comparable to the ones that the old ladies sell. I quickly interpreted the strategy that she is just next to them to benefit from their customers and attract them to her stand.
As the hours pass, the marketplace gets more crowded, with more salespeople and a few customers. A stand with homemade sauces and pasta takes its place with a woman and a man wearing black aprons, pouring out some sauce as a sample just in case an intrigued customer wants to taste some in advance. A sudden smell of tomato and basil took over. The toy stand had already caught some attention despite the early hours. A little blond girl with braids admires the handmade dolls from afar while waiting for her mom’s effort to pick the freshest vegetables. The stand offers more than handmade dolls: countless dresses for the doll you decide on, wooden trains and cars, stuffed animals, and board games.
Just as the sun reaches its peak, bathing the marketplace in golden light, the once-empty spaces between the stands disappear, now filled with eager customers and the rhythmic hum of bargaining. Voices blend together—some in laughter, others in persuasive exchanges, as people weave through the maze of goods, hands brushing against fabrics, picking up trinkets, and testing the ripeness of fruit.
The air, once crisp with morning freshness, now carries the mingling scents of roasted coffee, fresh bread, and the sharp tang of citrus from a nearby fruit stand. The bulky man and his son, now both engaged in conversation with potential buyers, seem to have found their rhythm, while the younger lady selling scarves continues her careful display, still preaching the virtues of silk and cashmere to anyone who will listen. As the day stretches on, the marketplace becomes a living entity, pulsing with movement, color, and voices. The sea, once urging the morning along with its vigorous waves, now hums steadily in the background.