Other volunteers had raved about La Feria; the highlight of their stay despite the 3am rise! But I had no idea why- what was so special about this weekly farmer’s market in San Isidro de El General, Costa Rica? What was it that made people want to go back, time and time again, to sell behind the stalls and sample the vast array of produce on offer?

Well, I was about to find out. Three forty on a dark and misty morning we set off- Luz, Memo and I- headlights bumping slowly over the dirt and dusty track. The roads here, of which the majority are untarred, make traveling any faster than 30mph almost impossible so it was not until around 4:30am that we arrived in town. Once under the gigantic carport that would lay host to the market we began to unpack what appeared to be the entire vegetable isle of a supermarket: from fresh root ginger to plantains and radishes! Men arrived with sacks of carrots and buckets brimming over with moras (a slightly sour berry, similar to the loganberry, whose beads are less juicy and more tightly packed than it's Californian cousin) and of course there were stacks and stacks of eggs!

I was welcomed to the comrade of farmers by a man whose orangutan hands shook and squeezed mine with such force that I could see his fingers losing circulation. Just as I thought my own hand was about to fall off my wrist, he let go. With a shout of “Pura Vida” he was off, bouncing between the stalls in search of his next victim!
Due to my somewhat limited Spanish my duties were mainly behind the scenes: packing up lettuce and oranges, weighing out bags of moras… however it did mean that I had a great view of what was going on. By 6am the place was buzzing like a hive of bees: hungary Costa Rican's scoured the stalls of fresh produce from the local hills and glens for their weeks supply before heading off to a busy day at work. Except, they weren’t in any rush. Thyme leaves were sniffed, mangoes pocked and prodded and moras were tried and tested. The ingredients had to be just perfect or else they would move on in search of better quality.

As midday crept up and the sun shone down its smothering heat the customers began to change... Gringos (as they are affectionately known): tourists and expats alike who were even more pernickety than the Ticos.
“What do you feed your chickens?” (This was a question regarding the eggs and not the chicken meat as you might have thought.) “ So, the food is organic? Good, okay… I’ll have 3 dozen please.”
Boy! Do they eat a lot of eggs in this country. Most were buying by the 3 dozen (one man even bought 15 dozen) compared to our piddly “half dozen please”.

By mid-afternoon though the sun was just a degree too hot. Sweat acted like PVA sticking my clothes to my skin, and my head swam in a haze of of what felt like 40+ degrees centigrade! So, I escaped to the air-conditioning of a cafe where I re-fueled and lowered my temperature dramatically with a Frappe mocha con helado de chocolate y crema batida ( an irresistible iced mocha laced with the icy froth of chocolate ice-cream and topped with the Sweetest. Softest. Whipped cream EVER! Oh- and chocolate sauce!

However, come evening the sun had drifted -tired at last- down behind the ramshackle trucks that had arrived in preparation to bring home any leftover produce. But La Feria wasn’t over yet, far from it! A rush of Ticos came chattering in with enormous trolleys on their way home from work ready to pick up any final bargains. With equal sniffing, prodding and laughter they made their purchases and slowly, slowly the crowds began to disperse. By 8pm the boy beside us had all but packed up his stall- consisting entirely of pineapples- and the farmer to our right was busily handing out peanut-type nuts to weary Stall-holders. It was time to go.

It had definitely been a special day, and not just because of all the exotic produce on offer. It was the chance to be a part of this farming community whose lives revolve around their weekly market. Many come back the following morning for a second day of sales to show off more produce, but not us. We were off home to Finca Chinchilla where a steaming bowl of rice and beans awaited! Mmmmmm…