My main purpose in travel is to gain insight into the human experience, and there is no better place to observe humans than in the local market.
If you want to understand how people live, go where they shop.
I first came to this understanding in Kumasi, Ghana at The Kejetia Market, and I have yet to see a more breathtaking market.
Since then, I have relished every opportunity to visit a market, and the market at Aleppo is considered one of the most well preserved examples of an ancient market in The Middle East. This is not some tourist destination, it is the real deal, and the place is a massive labyrinth that leaves me stymied again and again.
On the periphery of the market, one is constantly pinned against ancient walls as vehicles vie to deliver goods. Inside the market, carts of all size and shape, motorbikes, and scooters urge me to step aside with resounding horns.
At a few points I am jostled by the crowd, and in one instance, in typically Canadian fashion, I say "sorry" as a young man bumps into me while passing with some friends. I hear him ask his friend in Arabic what "sorry" means.
Next, I have a moment that deeply appeals to my Canadian DNA. Like many of my fellow citizens, I have helped push a car out of the snow in the depths of a northern winter. In Canada, it is almost a duty that you help give someone a push when they need it, and it was this instinct that kicked in as I watched a lady and her son struggle mightily and fail to get a well loaded cart up some steep stairs.
Now, I presume that the goods were intended for a stall owned by the lady's husband, and in that instance I weighed the social appropriateness of a man helping a lady he doesn't know in this culture, while noticing that no one else is stepping up to the plate.
Foreign culture be damned, I offer my help. As a Canadian it is my duty to offer a push. The lady accepts and I step behind the cart, between her and her son. Scandalously, our hips touch as we push the mighty load up the stairs.
As we reach the top, the lady thanks me in Arabic, I say "shook-ran" (thank you), and bow my head, with hands in a prayer position in a feeble attempt to show the utmost respect.
As we part ways, I'm kinda proud that I have represented my country well, and I suspect that no matter where you are in this world, if you need a push, you could do worse than run into a Canadian.
And if you want to have a real travel experience, I suggest you hit the local market.
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