I know I like my hot dogs downtown LA style, wrapped in
bacon and smothered with an unforgiving layer of mayonnaise and onions, served
with a chili for the bold and a generous amount of napkins for the messy. I like my burgers Hawaiian style, slathered
with sweet teriyaki sauce, topped with a bright and juicy pineapple wheel, and served with a bottomless bucket of fries and a pool of pepper-sprinkled ketchup. I like my yoga unbearably hot, my pizzas for
breakfast and cold, and my before-bed-showers just a bit warmer than warm. I like my tea green, my running socks black, and
my closet staple V-neck a crisp white—especially after Labor Day. Bananas to be eaten, I know to be spotless,
while my room on the other hand, I, along with any unfortunate roommate I’ve had or
will ever have, know will never be. I’ve
been a good listener and a great observer, yet it still surprises me how well
I’ve gotten to know myself. Even more
surprising though, is how much I’ve yet to learn.
I’d always expected it to be a surprising and rather
unpleasant feeling to realize that I didn’t know someone as well as I had once
believed, but contrary to that belief, when it comes to myself, it’s great. In fact, it’s better than greater—it’s a
feeling to look forward to and live for.
Let me explain myself. It was
about a week ago when I realized that I liked pecorino. Yes, cheese.
Never would I have imagined myself to be a cheese person—to be able to appreciate,
let alone distinguish between various cheeses.
That was to be my sister’s niche in life, not mine. It was one of the things that differentiated
us. She liked her pastas looking as if a
snowstorm of Parmesan had hit spaghetti city, whereas I preferred mine—well, I
preferred mine as if a snowstorm of Parmesan hadn’t, thank you very much. Then, a few days ago, I liked a cube of blue,
and from there, a few crumbles of feta, a slather of Brie, a wedge of goat, and
heck, bring on the snowstorm.
It’s as if these new discoveries, open windows of
opportunity, allowing me to gaze into parts of a world, and parts of myself, I had
never known to exist. Certain people may
bring out a certain beauty you never realized you had, while others may summon
your inner beast. Certain conversations
may lead you to realize the strength of your ideas and beliefs, bringing out
the sagacious philosopher in you, while others may lead you to realize that
you’re as boy-crazy as you ever were, gossip-loving as you ever will be, and forever
destined to be young at heart. Different
people and different experiences can help to close windows, open doors, close
blinds, but open shutters, and ultimately help to mold and shape the beautiful
person you become. Just as well,
different cities may bring out different sides of you, and different
markets…well, you get the gist.
Being in Sydney has definitely brought out the market-loving
fiend in me, leading me to the Glebe market yesterday morning. If you’re looking to bring out the inner clothes-loving hippie in you, your search ends here.
Glebe is what you'd get if a market decided to go all hipster on you. It's kind of like a huge outdoor swapmeet with vendors selling things from candles to overalls to bow ties for pets to bohemian beach dresses. The randomness of it all makes it ten times more fun.
And of course, no market is complete without a chai tea vendor; however I must say, nothing beats the chai tea tent at the Marrickville market!
If you can't make it Saturday, you could walk a few shops down where you'll find The Works, which is a permanent marketplace opened all days of the week!!
I could actually get lost in here for hours if I let myself...
If your inner market-loving fiend is dying to burst out one Saturday morning, do pay the Glebe market a visit! Who knows? You may discover a new love for bow ties for pets! Or rediscover an old love for bow ties for pets...Regardless, visit the Glebe markets! Your inner flower-child-clothes-loving-hippie will thank you.
Cheers,
Kimmy
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