This week we were meant to do observations of the market; walk around and see who catches our eye. The first time I went I left all my equipment at home and just explored, taking in the different people and their mannerisms. In the end I came up with 2 or 3 people who genuinely intrigued me. I visited the stall at around 5:30AM, and the majority of the produce section were already set up. It appeared like the majority of the people in the stalls were older, in their 50s-60s. The younger members of the stalls make the trip from the van to stall, while some have forklifts bring their goods to the booth directly. As the clock wound up to six, there was a flurry of activity as the majority of owners arrive and open, yet there was still a relaxed, jovial mood purveying the shed. The first of the customers arrived, lazily strolling from place to place as the various vibrant vegetables peak their interest, while the merchants shouted small trivialities to each other as means of greeting.

An older lady sits behind her table of greens, shorter than the stack of lettuce in front of her, but with a slow, carefree lurch serves the occasional shopper that floats her way. She is on the side furthest from the city, and it shows as the day goes on.

A Husky, majestically bearded fellow wears a yellow jacket with a black printed ‘security’ on it. He strolls from truck to truck, making idle conversation with the incoming traffic and guiding the suppliers to their destinations. Not once does his smile waver.

A young, bald and tattooed man of his mid-20s drives a forklift with practised ease. He, and those of his trade, create a unique discord with those they assist; where the merchants work calmly and methodically, He and his ilk operate with rapid pace, yelling at the merchants whose wares have arrived with nowhere to put them.

The three I have mentioned seem to be from three different generations, and as such have three vastly distinct perspectives on the comings and goings of the Victoria Market. The senior trader brings a wizened, more considered look at the day and its predecessors. The Forklift operator might give a less invested look at the history of the market and instead develop a clearer picture of its future; after all, his is a job of connections and delivery, and as such will have an idea of how the market runs from day to day. The same, however, could be said of the security guard; as a middleman, he has a clear view of the relationships between the stores and their suppliers, and therefore could speak to the stability of the market.

I later revisited the market with my camera around my neck. While I left the lens cap off I didn’t intend to take any pictures; this was more about seeing what I could get away with around different people. The older lady warily stared at the camera as I passed, despite talking to a customer. I didn’t have to ask to know she wasn’t having it. The security guard, likewise, wasn’t interested, but it seemed like his objection came from his employment, not a personal distaste. When I walked past him his manner switched from the previously smiling conversationalist to one of distracted concern. I continued on my way so as to avoid a rebuke. I couldn’t find the forklift operator I had seen previously.

I strayed into the vegan/egg area out of frustration (poached eggs are a comfort food for me, and on this particular day I had not indulged myself in a meal aside from the regular coffee). Despite my proximity to the market I’m not a regular visitor, so I figured I’d see if I could get bacon, coffee, and maybe some cheese first. The bacon I bought from a man who intrigued me with the weight he seemed to levarage on his shoulders; he walked with a hunch that spoke to years of rugged resistance to the fatigue that comes with constant hard physical labour, yet his face seemed to sing a song of kindness and joy. He too seemed wary of the camera, but I think he’d be worth pushing to get something.

From here I would usually head straight to the egg stall, but the coffee was wearing off. The path through the market to get coffee lead me through past a flower stall, and it is here I met Stuart. Leaning against a tree with a relaxed slouch he spoke with a clarity and confidence that seemed out of place amongst the rest of the market. I marked him as someone to follow in future