If you’ve ever wandered near the eastern edge of the Zócalo, over by the Templo Mayor, you might have heard them: street vendors selling scarves, hats, sunglasses, purses, desk items and whatever else might be useful from tarps spread out on the sidewalk. As people pass, the vendors call out: “10 varos! 10 pesos mire! Todo le vale 25 pesos!”
The vendors all have slightly different cadences, so when they shout at the same time, their voices turn into this sort of chaotic roar, almost banshee-like at times. It’s amazing, annoying and slightly terrifying if you’ve never heard it before. What is all that noise in the background? Is it really people?
Moneda Street in particular — where the photo above was snapped, looking down Moneda from the Zócalo — is so crowded it’s often impossible to walk on the sidewalk. Pedestrians walk in the narrow strip of space between the cars and the gutter. Or they just walk in the street.
For the past few days I’ve been listening to the vendors’ cries from our second-floor kitchen at the Fundación Herdez, where I’m taking a cooking class. Today on my way home I recorded a snippet of what it sounds like to walk through there. This was taken in the small area of space that borders the Metropolitan Cathedral, at the head of Moneda Street.
I’m not necessarily complaining about these vendors, by the way. I’m just sort of… in awe. How do they not lose their voices at the end of the day?
