Flowers and More Flowers

One of the places that I want my friends Nancy and Fred to see when they come to Mexico City in October is the Jamaica Market.  I wrote about this place a few years ago.  It is the largest flower market in the city with supposedly 1,150 stalls selling cut flowers, arrangements, funeral wreaths, house plants and vases and flowerpots.  

On Friday I wanted to return there mainly to be sure of the route to get to the market via public transportation.  I took the Metrobus going down Insurgentes Avenue for a few stops and then switched to the subway at the Chilpancingo Metro stop.  From there it was a straight shot to the Jamaica station.  Ascending the stairs from the subway, the market building was right there. 

Upon entering the building, it is just like any other Mexican market with stalls selling fruits and vegetables, clothing, shoes, household items, etc., etc.  You start to wonder, "Where are the flowers?"

But then you reach the floral section, and it takes up the lion's share of this large building.  The flowers go on and on and on.  The attraction is not just the beautiful blossoms themselves, but the all the activity as well...  trucks unloading their cargo brought in from all over the country, florists creating arrangements and wreaths, shoppers with their arms laden with flowers. (The owners of all those flower stands that you see throughout the city probably come here for their flowers.)

Nancy, I think you are going to find this place amazing.  But I realized that in our tentative itinerary I scheduled our trip to the market for the day before the Day of the Dead.  The market is going to be an absolute madhouse that day!  We can switch our visit to an earlier day that week.  The market will still be bustling, but not as jammed.  And I suspect that you will see more marigolds (the traditional flower of the Day of the Dead) than you have ever seen in your life!

As I wandered around the market I saw these unusual flowers...

I asked the vendor what kind of flowers they were, and he said that they are called "maracas", like the percussion instrument.  In case I didn't understand what he said, he grabbed a couple in his hands and shook them like rattles.  He said that they are shipped in from the state of Veracruz.

As I was passing down an aisle, one of the vendors, a grandmotherly type, asked if I wanted to buy some roses.  I explained that the place where I am staying is some distance away, and that I was afraid that they would wilt.  We chatted for a while.  When I commented on the beautiful colors of her roses, she said that they were the colors the Lord has given us.  She then handed me a small wrapped arrangement  of a single, long-stemmed rose with some white, daisy-like flowers.  "Here," she said.  "They will be fine."  I asked her how much, and she said, they are a gift.  What a sweet lady!  She made my day!  It is little things like that which make me love Mexico City in spite of its faults.

I still wasn't sure that the flowers would survive the trip back to the apartment, so I bought a bottle of water, opened it, and stuck them into the container.  I imagine that I must have been a somewhat comical sight... a gringo traveling on the subway and the Metrobus carrying a rose in a bottle of water!  However the flowers made it back to my apartment intact.