The Peddlers

We are slowing inching our way up the steep, bumpy road several kilometers from home. I am admiring the flora when Pecos lurches to a stop as we round a sharp curve. There, in front of a ramshackle house, is an aged pickup with several men and a heap of pots and pans tossed in it. A teenager is walking down the road ahead of us, carrying a tall stack of assorted pots and pans tied together on top of his head. A peddler! Pecos is thrilled and leaps out to get a closer look. We had already bought a few pieces of cookware in the city, but I could use a tortilla press. Our enthusiastic peddlers pull out several sizes and I choose a medium sized one and return to our vehicle for colones to pay for it. First I caution Pecos to not to buy everything on the truck while I step away.

The edge of the road is loose and I fall in the ditch. The peddlers leap from their truck, rush over at top speed and pull me up. Pecos is halfway there but not nearly as nimble as these men who hammer out pots and pans and save women in distress.

As we drive away I admire my new flat pan. It has handles on the sides and is unlike any I’ve owned before. Several kilometers further, we are assailed by the peddlers’ truck. It comes up behind us and all of the men excitedly jump out. One of them runs over and hands me my glasses that had been on top of my head when I fell. I hadn’t realized they were gone but they would have been sorely missed. How were these little wire glasses seen in the thick undergrowth, anyway? I am very grateful.

My little tortilla pan works great for making tortillas and pita, and also for serving as a lid for my largest pot, one of two that I own in this country. Best of all, it also cooks a great top-of-the-burner pizza, too. 