Where's Buddha?

One of the joys of many of my early Saturday mornings is a trip to the Syracuse Regional Market. The Market sits on the north edge of Syracuse proper near Onondaga Lake. It's surrounded by the baseball stadium on the east, the regional transportation center on the north, Interstate 81 and the Carrousel Mall on the west and some old warehouses and factories on the south. This area was originally a salt marsh with numerous salt springs. In the earliest days of Syracuse it was part of the thriving salt production business. The salt springs are long gone now. Over the course of the last 100 years they have been gradually filled in then paved over in the name of progress.

In the early twentieth century this area was developed into a wholesale and retail farmer's market. A one story row of brick warehouses with loading docks front and back were built by local businesses to receive lots of fruit and vegetables via farm truck and rail, break them down and transport them to local stores. Some of these original wholesalers, such as Russo's Produce, are still operating in the same location today. One of the wholesalers, Buda's Meats and Produce, eventually decided it made sense to open its own retail market. The Buda family built a stand-alone store nearby. It's still in operation today providing a wide range of groceries at just slightly more than wholesale prices.

In 1933 the first permanent shed for the a cooperative regional farmer's market was built adjacent to the wholesale warehouses. Today there are five permanent sheds each about a city block long. The original brick shed, now called the “A” shed, operates year round. Both sides are lined with overhead doors so the vendors can back their trucks right inside. Many of the vendors in the “A” shed have rented the same coveted spot for years. Until this year, a home-made donut machine dominated a central location and added its delicious, greasy aroma to the place. I buy local honey from a guy who is always there. A local orchard sells us fresh raspberries. Mr. Leonard provides us with his marvelous maple syrup. http://merryatsyracuse.blogspot.com/search/label/maple%20syrup

The rest of the sheds are more modern consisting of almost nothing more than a long metal roof and walls made of overhead doors. At this time of year all the doors are up. Early Saturday morning the “B,” “C” and “D” sheds are lined with trucks of all kinds. Farmers from the entire region can be found here selling eggs, chickens, beef, buffalo, wine, apples, cereal, and home made baked goods. We get milk and yogurt from our friends at Wake Robin Farm who have a ten cow herd of jerseys. See for yourself at http://www.wakerobinfarm.org/ In between A and B sheds farmers who cater to the home gardener fill the lot with an enticing array of live flowers and plants. As you move down the line of sheds from A to E the spaces are cheaper and start to be filled with re-sellers of every kind: sunglasses, perfume, gloves, toys, CDs, you name it. Today was a prime Market day so two big tents were added to accommodate the overflow of vendors who couldn't fit in the sheds.

I love the Market because it is filled with people from every community that makes up greater Syracuse. Recent immigrants always flock here, perhaps because it reminds them a bit of markets at home. While shopping at the Market it's common to see Russians, Somalis, Hmong, Chinese, Bosnians, Indians, Arabs, and many more along with a number of Italians who came here in the 1950s but still like to speak the mother tongue. On a nice spring Saturday like today all the parking lots were full. Several thousand people at a time were happily wandering the Market the whole morning.

Today's nice weather reminded me of a beautiful mid-summer Saturday morning about three or four years ago. We had finished shopping and were winding our way back to our car loaded down with our purchases. There was a considerable traffic jam just inside one of the back entrances. We both noticed the cause of the back up was an older model station wagon very slowly making its way down the access road. It would creep forward, then stop for a second, then creep forward again. As it approached where we were standing it suddenly stopped right in the middle of the intersection. As the line of bewildered and aggravated drivers looked on, an older, slightly disheveled gentleman got out and walked over to us looking confused.

“Where’s Buddha?” he enquired in a loud voice.

I looked at him in wonder. What could he be asking?

“Where's Buddha?” he repeated even more loudly.

Then it hit me. He was slightly lost and wanted to find Buda’s Produce Market at the other side of the market.

“There it is,” I said to him and pointed at the red sign on the far side of the parking area.

He looked. A flash of recognition crossed his face and he turned back to his car.

Or maybe he was asking something else….