I hated going to the market. Mum would drag me with her almost every Saturday morning. She loved buying fruits and vegetables from there and she would always come back with flowers as well. The market in Baia Mare was awful. It still is, to be honest. It is an outdoor market and if there aren’t puddles all over the pavement, then there surely is mud. The peasant don’t look very happy: during summer is too hot there, during winter is freezing cold. There is one person I like there, tough. It’s a man in his early sixties who sells tomatoes. I think he must have more than… 20 varieties of tomatoes. I have always wanted to buy one of each and then decide which I like best, but I have never done it, of course. (To be put on the “things to do before I die” list.)

But everything changed when I moved here. There is a big market just 5 minutes away from my flat. It’s an indoor one, very clean and nice, so the sellers don’t look that unhappy. And I have my favourite people from whom I always buy. There’s the lady who sells potatoes. She’s from Suceava, in her mid-forties, very jolly and nice. If it happens to pass by her and not see her, she always says ‘hello, young lady, how are you?’ and then we chit-chat.

Then there’s this old lady whom I buy flowers from. She never remembers my face and when someone passes by she invites them in a high-pitched voice to buy some flowers. I always do it and then I tell her that I always buy flowers from her. She then feels ashamed and asks me to forgive her for not remembering my face but she’s old and she sees a lot of different people every day. I tell her it’s OK and then I take the flowers.

And I also like the couple who sells melons from their truck parked in the front of the market. She is very nice, he is always very quiet. But they have the best watermelons I’ve eaten!

The only problem is that after a trip to the market my bags are so heavy that I feel I won’t ever make it back home