Holidays when I was younger were always taken with the Brackens. First to Rosscarbery, then to Portugal and the Canaries, the eleven of us would cause consternation in small restaurants and on beaches. Food was always fresh and local, especially fish that had just jumped out of the sea on to a hot grill. One strange habit that my mother and aunt had was to find the nearest food market on the day before we left. They would lose their minds amidst the stacks of fresh fruit and buy all round them. For the next 24 hours, we would have to eat all these watermelons, cherries and grapes so nothing went to waste.
This came to mind on my last day in Vancouver, when I explored Granville Island and its massive food market. I resisted the lure of the ferry and walked across the breezy breezy bridge, which gave me this view:
I had heard of the market, but I hadn’t expected the vastness of it. Aisles and aisles of fruits, vegetables, chocolates, meat, breads, all looking at the top of their game.
The food stall section, where prepared dishes were available at every turn, was the most difficult in terms of decision making. Curries or tacos? Fish and chips or sushi? German wurst or healthy juices?
Eventually I panicked from hunger and being that person who has done four laps of the market and only bought a cup of tea. With a huge slice of pizza in my hand, I burst out to the sunny plaza and found a spot perfect for watching boats on one side and listening to other people’s conversations on the other side.
Decisions made, I strolled on to Kitsilano, but it was too windy for me to really appreciate. I’ll be back in a month to spend a couple of hours there, so there is still time to soak up the atmosphere on that side of Vancouver.
I only bought a couple of apples at the market in the end, but if Mom and Finola had been there, we would still be eating fruit for breakfast, lunch and dinner.