There is nothing as great for this vegetarian as hearing the call of the veggie/fruit lady outside my door every morning. She calls "machanta" which means something like 'from the country' in colloquial Nicaraguan. I saunter toward the door and unlock the 'portone' which means something like 'big fancy iron grate' and she calls to the nearest person to help her unload her giant basket from her head. Then she shows me a fabulous choice of everything that grows here. When I look at an avo or a mango, she then asks when I will eat it. If I say 'now' she gives a perfectly ripe one. If I say tomorrow breakfast, she hands me a slightly less ripe one. So each fruit is not only picked that very day, but understood to be perfect for the moment I wish for it.
And then she throws out a ridiculously low price and waits for me to object. Which I don't. Then she reminds me that I have a blender (thank you Gretchen) and tries to get me to buy more. Which I don't. Then, business done, she asks how my life is and I wish her a lovely day (which it always is) and I go make coffee.
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