Unless you put the seeds in sand. That doesn't work. I once taught a group of 100 Ecuadorian teenagers how to recycle old tires and use them as garden beds, but the only soil available to us on the campgrounds was just not up to par. By the end of the workshop we had about nine tires filled with wet sand.
After the novelty of being surrounded by a mindblowing assortment of produce - especially fruit - begins to wear off and your adrenaline levels are back to normal, you begin to notice things here and there. Such as, Huh, there weren't any pitahayas at the market today. Or, One little bag of grapes for a DOLLAR? Did that lady rip me off or what?!?!?! One time I argued with a vendor lady about a 20-cent rise in the price of plums - it was one of those times where you've picked your battle, and you must be adamant and not back down because that would mean the indignity of losing 20 cents - until she looked at me with pity and said, They're not in season. (Oh. Right. In that case I'll take a pound. Do you have change for a five?)
As time passes one comes to know upon walking into the market what's in season and what's not (as well as what's always going to be around - like plantains). Usually you can tell by noticing what's not there, general price fluctuations, and what there is an overwhelming amount of. One day I walked into the market and saw piles and piles of cherries in all the fruit stalls. I was like, I guess it's cherry season. Another time it was guavas. And a few weeks ago, I started noticing these everywhere:
They are not alien eggs, they are achotillos. More commonly known as rambutan. Native to Southeast Asia. Cousin to the lychee.
Here's a better picture, courtesy of Wikipedia:
Anyway, a few weeks ago I started to notice them everywhere: piles of them in the market, vendors selling them out of big rice bags in the street. You know what's funny is, you can also tell what fruits are in season by what types of fruit pits you see thrown away in the street. In December: oblong pits from a type of plum. After that: flat mango pits just smaller than your palm. Then: the hairy achotillo skins.
Now the achotillos are beginning to disappear, and I wonder what will come into season next. Grapes? Tomatillos? Something I've never heard of before? I eagerly await the next winner of Fruit Roulette.
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