On market day, this tiny town bulges with buyers and sellers turning seven city squares into street markets. When I was seven, what astounded me were the men behind foot-pedaled sewing machines selling alterations, and the piles of bananas higher than my head. Thirty years later it is no less overwhelming. Chickens, for one. I’ve never seen so many for sale in one place Live and dead. Big and small. Screeching and terrified silent. Neck gripped by vendors in perfectly straight ques. All different colors, yanked out of burlap sacks for inspection before purchase or rejection. The whole thing resembles a line dance constantly ducking and weaving, changing partners.
Follow this bonus-material blog and ride along on a one-year road trip that inspired the memoir The Drive: Searching for Lost Memories on the Pan American Highway. On sale now. Get yours through the buy-the-book links at the bottom of the landing page on my teresabrucebooks.com website or here or here. Planning a road trip? Buy the audiobook here. Like The Drive’s Facebook page and tweet back at me @writerteresa.