Okay, so not everyone at Sedgefield's Saturday morning market is a hippie nouveau. But the sea of patterned Indian fabrics and metres of long, carefree tresses - not to mention dreadlocks - you see there certainly makes you feel like you might be at some sort of "New Age" Woodstock revival.
Yet, as you walk over the mulch-carpeted earth, past organic food stands and recycled garbage-disposal units, you're soon catapulted back to the green zone of the 21st century. Started in 1999 by Rose Brettell and Susan Garner, the Wild Oats Community Farmers' Market is classified as an "authentic producers' market", a wholesome outing for the whole family, where you can buy all manner of fresh and bottled foods produced along the Garden Route. According to the market's website, some of the founders' main aims are to put shoppers back in touch with local producers and thereby build "local community-mindfulness". Another of their stated goals is to draw attention to what they see as "the global need for developing local food security". And in a world that is producing increasingly less food than required by future demands, this positive spin-off is certainly worth taking notice of.
A Cape minstrel band preceded a mime artist as we made our way past an indigenous nursery and burgeoning tables of fresh produce. Being on a cleansing diet - a somewhat ill-timed endeavour when you're on holiday - my wife and I had to skip many of the scrumptious foodstuffs on offer, no matter how healthy they were. Yet, we still managed to fill our bags with much of the allowable food we were seeking, the beverage purchase of the day undoubtedly being some organic green tea labeled "peasant-grown organic".
Wandering across the road to one of the other markets close by, I browsed through some old books at a bric-à-brac stand. My wife was at an incense stall across the way. Two bohemian-looking youngsters had cornered her and were in rhapsodies about a revolutionary Indian toothpaste containing a rare herb called miswak - apparently offering "incredible oral care".
I left her in the hands of the earthy people with extra-white teeth and made for the Scarab market across the lawn. I was in search of a copper bangle and I'd come to the right place. Within minutes I'd found a beaming, elf-like man with long dreadlocks under a floppy felt hat, who invited me to browse through his well-crafted product range at my leisure. But I felt I didn't need to, so strong was I drawn to the very first one he'd shown me.
At a nearby crystal stand, an engaging young man told me about the energies and healing properties of the various stones I picked up. And judging from his peaceful disposition, his stones seemed to be working for him. As I walked off to find my wife, and to see if she'd succumbed to the sales spiel of the toothpaste men, I suddenly realised that even if you only browse at these markets, you still come away with something you might not have had when you arrived - like a new-found faith in people and the wonderful world around you.
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