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There are few things in life more charming than an outdoor market. Whether it’s a small town farmer’s market or the overpriced flea market just outside of most major cities, there is just something so quaint and comforting about the whole idea. Actually purchasing something at the market is often times just an after thought. The beauty is in just wandering around the different tables or stalls and people watching. Rarely will you find a more diverse atmosphere. On one side of the market you will always find the ageing hippy trying to sell random trinkets or trippy paintings. Further down there are those sellers who are trying to peddle their handmade jewelry or crafts, hoping that they will be able to drum up enough business to one day move out of the market and into a proper store. While there will always be a few vendors marketing items of actual value outside of the market, they are the least interesting of the bunch and often so overpriced that they don’t sell much of anything.
Market days in Queenstown are no exception. Every Saturday morning, two separate markets spring up on opposite sides of this small tourist town. On the sidewalks and grass at the Wharf, there is the general market that caters mainly to the tourist crowd with its jewelry made out of old New Zealand coins and the soap that is shaped like delicious cup cakes. On more than one occasion, I have seen a small child run up to the cupcake table hoping to buy a sweet treat only to be utterly disappointed when they learn that the pink frosting is just a lie. The setup begins around eight in the morning and the vendors remain until the early afternoon. So many people pass through the wharf during that time without actually buying anything that several of the people manning the tables sit there reading and have to be startled back into the moment when someone decides to make a purchase. Local musicians often times set up in the grassy area and play for the browsing crowds. The best was the tightrope walker who spent well over an hour trying to get the rope tied between the trees tight enough to actually stand on. He wasn’t very good but it made for an entertaining way to spend the morning.
On the other side of town, in the Anglican Church courtyard, the local farmer’s market sets up its tables. This is where you are more likely to find the locals. Unlike many farmer’s market, there is less locally grown fruit and vegetables and more home made baked goods including both a brownie booth and a pie both. Recently, a sausage vendor has arrived. The three proprietors of the sausage stand are all foreign and have decided that they are going to try to remedy New Zealand’s apparent inability to produce decent sausage by making it themselves. In only their second week, they have already developed quite a following and there is always a line in front of their stand. My favorite, however, has to be the coffee vendor. Where is he getting those coffee beans because I am pretty sure that coffee is not a native New Zealand crop? But there he sits, selling his bags of coffee.
No matter which market that you visit in Queenstown though, the people watching is superb. Every stereotypical kind of person visits Queenstown from the super wealthy European traveler staying at the St. Moritz to the South American backpacker who lives in a one-bedroom cabin with nine other people to the exceptionally rare native Queenstowner pushing a stroller through the crowds. One of my favorite ways to spend a warm, sunny Saturday morning is by sitting in the ice cream shop on the wharf with a cup of coffee and watch the people milling about and trying to guess where they are from and what they do back home. More often than not, you can figure out where they are from and they’re general economic status just by what they are wearing. The Asian tourists always have a camera strapped around their necks while most of the European tourists look like they got dressed to go hiking with cargo shorts and boots. The fanny pack, known as a bum bag here because fanny refers to a certain delicate area of the female body, is often sported by the over fifty male wearing tall white socks with his shorts. The tourists almost always are wearing either hiking boots or sneakers while the locals are wearing regular shoes, though few but me are brave enough to wear heels to walk around town because of the number of hills in the area. Worse than the hills though are the coble stone streets so I have resorted to keeping a pair of flip flops, aka jandals, in my purse for foot emergencies. Comfortable feet or not, with the backdrop of the Remarkables mountain range surrounding the crystal clear waters of lake Wakatipu, there is really nothing more relaxing than a Saturday morning in Queenstown, except maybe any other morning having a coffee in Queenstown.