Poor Marketing.

Stop and stair.

Budapest, Hungary – Although it’s Saturday morning, the Central Market Hall is hushed. It opens at six.

Two hours later, most stalls remain shuttered.

The emptiness is filled with aromas of spice and baked breads. Sausages hang like the church bells echoing through the mostly empty hall. 

Cases of meat are laid out in symmetries, gradients of red. Bouquets of paprika clutch to steel gates. Fruits, nuts, wines and lavender soaps await the day’s rush.

In the meantime, I admire the silence and the sun streaming in at sharp angles.

But I would have loved to have found some breakfast.