These informal outdoor areas, like the indoor areas, were mostly pristinely clean. Men in spotless uniforms sold shimmeringly fresh fish, and the only thing conspicuously absent was the sort of smell one associates with fish. Each outdoor fish sale resulted in a mess of discarded fish parts, but uniformed cleaning people were close behind. Both indoors and out, though, the floors were wet with the quickly-melting ice on which hundreds of pounds of tuna, barracuda, and red snapper rested—wearing flip flops is highly recommended. Feet can be easily cleaned at the hotel; the canvas on your TOMS is more difficult.
When you arrive, the first order of business is to caffeinate. The best way to find a morning beverage is to ask someone who seems to be really enjoying whatever they are drinking. A man weighing out fish that bore a striking resemblance to Gill from Finding Nemo directed us to the (oh so creatively-named) Fish Market Cafeteria. The tea, the beverage of choice here, was murky and milky, warm, and oddly comforting despite the creeping heat of a soon-to-be 95 degree day.
