This was a proper local market, full of bright, big baskets of fruit and vegetables and rainbow piles of wool. Not a postcard or bit of tourist tat in sight. It was a place to bring, buy, eat, drink, gossip, catch up and socialise. Even the local police officers were standing chatting, hats off, enjoying a beer. Community policing at its best. As we were getting back onto the bus the women started piling up on the back of a Toyota truck, looking like a pyramid of colourful sacks.
I pointed to them "It looks like they're trying for the world record of how many people can you get onto the back of a truck."
"Ah," said Paco, "The selling part of the market is finishing. That is the only truck or taxi that will take the women home. They have to go now and work in the house. The men stay and drink."
Some things are the same the world over.