I love the markets. But these new malls that abound on the outskirts of cities, with elevator type background tune, smelling of perfume overwhelming, and where the most exciting thing you encounter among Zaras, Mangos and Duttis is a space with strollers for children run around, while parents await weary face and hands full of plastic bags.
I love the markets, but the other. The battered fish smelling of salt; where cattle hanging still hot; snails and frogs are sold live in large plastic buckets; where the sidewalks are broken and suspicious river colored water runs into the sewer; preach the Bible speakers in the corners; aromas of curry, cilantro and grilled meat are mixed in the air traveling unseen corners, and in which the vendors leave their seats shaking arms offer their fruits, vegetables and spices at the best price.
I love that smell of fish markets coated in salt; where cattle hanging still hot
S normal to find this kind of markets in African countries, not in Europe. So I was surprised when I discovered the market Brixton. Brixton is the Southbound London. Back in 1800 was a place of residence for the English middle class. The main market street, Electric Avenue, is so named because it is the first street in London to be lit by electric light, in 1880.
During the Second World War, Brixton was terribly bombed and most beautiful houses were destroyed. In the following years, the Government Housing Council built several areas, areas of apartment blocks cheap or free for the vast migration. Now, Brixton is inhabited mostly by African and Caribbean. Hence, the market is now a Multicolor come and go full of exotic flavors and multifarious people.
The air is thick with the constant crackle of Jamaican chicken stalls
Compared to other markets londineneses, more homogeneous, The Brixton is a sensory feast. The air is thick with the constant crackle of Jamaican chicken stalls. The cheerful sound of reggae with a colorful spread since selling Moroccan lamb tagines and mint tea. A little later, several men smoke "sisha" sitting on low chairs placed on the sidewalk, while beside other stall sells steaks and Brazilian feijoada. Beyond, A French patisserie exposed succulent butter croissants. Small stalls selling rubber and plastic products, old cell phones, huge amounts of women wigs, marijuana candy, kaftan, boubou, agbadas and other colorful African costumes.
The atmosphere is colorful and eccentric, but there is something that gives away that this is not Africa or the Caribbean: the color of the sky
Some speak Swahili, other Arab, some more Spanish, French, Italian and, only a few, English. All flavors and musical sounds pleased diluted, proud of their own identity. Riders and sellers are African, Indians, European… The atmosphere is colorful and eccentric, but something that reveals that this is not Africa neither him Caribbean: the color of the sky. London never have the blue color covering African markets as a warm blanket and sweet. But, meanwhile, is what you get.
