The market is right next to the hotel, so we all go wandering through it. Along the way we somehow pick up a bilingual midget with a penchant for cigarettes. Instead of pushing us to buy things, most people here just stare at us and some point at the silly Americans. The market is a wild place. The streets are lined with stalls selling everything from food to clothes to sewing machines.
Stalls selling each good seem to concentrate in their own specific areas of the market.
In the food section, we see everything from bakery cases worthy of a spot on a Parisian street to tables full of unrefrigerated raw meat of every sort. For dinner, we dine by the river, and then, tired from the long day's drive, decide to rest, and walk back through the streets to our hotel.