He’s just an American … they all do it!

Today began with all the earmarks of a pretty boring day. I had a good workout yesterday so my aging body needs rest. My dog, Jericho, vetoed a long walk—too hot and humid, he said. Thunder and lightening in the afternoon confirmed his judgment. My current book manuscript needs a good edit, the least enjoyable part of writing, and a business plan with which I’m helping a friend is already a day or two ahead of schedule.
As if that wasn’t enough to send me back to bed, my wife decided we should hang curtains today. Not an arduous project, but she likes to be very precise. While I balance precariously on a kitchen chair, she and our helper argue about which corner needs to go up and whether or not we should get a different color.
With that agenda, I was easy prey for any other proposal and decided to tag along while my wife and our helper went to the local market. Buying meat and produce topped their list of to-dos, but I took my camera in search of local color. They went straight to their preferred butcher while I worked from the outside in. Our paths crossed eventually, but I was glued to the viewfinder and didn’t notice. After an hour, our helped tracked me down and I was surprised to see that I had shot over 280 pictures—thank God for large memory cards!

What held my interest for so long? Mostly the people. Filipinos are very friendly and almost all enjoy having their pictures taken. Some flagged me down from 20 yards away and struck interesting poses. Others stopped what they were doing, straightened their hair, adjusted their shirts, and stared directly into the camera. A few tugged at my sleeves to point me toward their friends. Not exactly the “local color” I was looking for, but I could hardly disappoint them and with my digital camera (a Canon 450D) I could show them their pictures on the spot.

The novelty of the market is second on the list. Antiseptically clean, the market is still very unlike the supermarkets to which most westerners are accustomed. Lighting is minimal, isles are cramped, stalls are packed to the ceilings, shoppers bob and weave around one another, and vendors continuously clean, carve, load, pack, and chatter with one another. Inside, I shot at 1600 ISO and still had difficulty getting adequate shutter speeds and depths of field.
Finally, the market was a good place to photograph components of the local transportation system. Brightly colored jeepneys disgorge shoppers at every corner, motorized tricycles line up to haul shoppers home, large buses wait along the street, and private cars sneak through every available opening.
All told, a wonderful morning and I have several hours of image processing ahead of me. If you read my earlier blog, you know that shopping at the local market is one of the secrets to controlling the cost of living. Meat and produce cost about half what they would in a western-style supermarket. Of course, you need to shop with care. Occasionally, vendors are caught selling old or “double dead” meat from animals that died of other causes before slaughter. Some incautious shoppers may get home to find one fresh leak atop of pile of leftovers. Fortunately, these problems are rarities. Most of the vendors have been in their spots for years and all are anxious to protect their reputations. And, our helper is very good at spotting things best left where they are.
Coincidentally, on the way home, my wife reported that she overheard a conversation between vendors after I had passed. One wondered why I was taking pictures and the other responded, “He’s just an American … they all do it!” And here I thought I was the first westerner to visit the market .