Orange ladies

Walking in La Paz on a Sunday, nothing is open, except the stalls on the street. As I was heading back to hostel, bored, Maurice, one of my dorm mates walked out and invited me to accompany him to the modern art museum. We came across an orange stall, which Maurice stop to buy a glass. The lady was in her 30s (probably). She had a cart full of oranges, a simple squeezer, lots of plastic cups and a small plastic garbage bag. A cup for 3 pesos. Quickly, swiftly, she’s done it 500 times a day, squeezing the juice out to a plastic jar then pouring it to the thin plastic cups. Maurice drank it all at once then the lady offered another half glass.

Pure juice, no ice, no sugar. Simple & delicious, ridiculously cheap at 50 cents each. FRESHLY SQUEEZED. Orange stands became one of my hobbies/obsessions. Whenever I see one, I’ll stop for a glass. The ladies work hard and silent. They don’t talk much, just moving their hands quickly and quietly. I suspect they are from the suburbs, making an income with the oranges they grow. (I may be completely wrong though). At siesta, they are the only people still on the street while everything else shuts down. Sometimes, strangers stopping for a glass make small talk with each other, comments on the weather and sharing a moment of simplicity.

Returning to Vancouver, I miss the spontaneous drinks on the street. Not those canned juice and pops made from massive factories, but in-your-face natural fresh orange juice.