Vendors assemble everywhere in the Riviera Maya.
Outside of places like Tulum or Chichén Itzá.
Even along side streets on Avenida 5 in Playa del Carmen.
Selling everything imaginable.
Teeshirts, magnets, trinkets, carvings.
Inflating prices.
Expecting to bargain.
Which, in youthful days, I’d do.
Though, now, no longer appealing.
As I think about the lives of these workers.
Rising early to set up.
Standing in the heat.
Waiting for passersby.
Hoping for another bus to discharge tourists.
Competing with a hundred other hawkers.
All carrying the same merchandise.
How could I demand a lower price?
When profit margins small?
Living conditions hard?
The seller tallied thirteen hundred pesos.
For three bird whistles and a magnet.
I hesitated thirty seconds.
Before I could nod, he reduced the price to a thousand.
Bien, I said, handing him a credit card.
Which, of course, would add to the cost.
Since the card company charges a fee.
Looking at the plastic, he explained the problem.
Raised the price to eleven hundred.
I handed him the card.
Listening to him haggle with himself.
Then he carefully wrapped four ceramics in paper.
Thanking him, I started to retreat.
He ran after me, waving a regalo.
Another small bird whistle.
A tiny token of gratitude
for the few goods I selected.
I think the best deal mine
for jungle sounds collected.
Lynn Benjamin
February 28, 2024
Bien means good.
Regalo means gift.