In the mid 1950s my Dear One and I lived in a 3-room cement-block house on Mexico's Pacific coast. We were newly-weds.
It was early summer. Every morning after breakfast I walked three miles to the town market and back again, while he fished in the surf. D.O. said to me, "When you are very physically active you can eat the same thing every day and not get tired of it, because you work up such a big appetite."
Turns out this was true. Pompano, of course, is a delicious fish, but few would order it at a restaurant every night. However, when you're sitting down ravenous every night, you enjoy that fish the tenth time as much as you did the first.
He was the hunter; I was the gatherer.
Half-way from town by the side of the road was a large open shed composed of a palm thatched roof and many support beams. Here I always stopped on the way back home to buy bananas, which were cheap and a staple in our diet. The proprietor had fixed my banana price a little higher, I suspected, than he did for locals. But it was not exorbitant and I was ok with it. We had haggled a little first, though I was still practicing to overcome the feeling that haggling was undignified and beneath me.
One morning while I was at the banana shed a large white air-conditioned Cadillac pulled up and stopped. I noticed that the tag was Dade County Florida--Miami, my home town. Three tall, cool, blonde young people wearing expensive-looking white clothes exited the car, stretched their legs, and bought some bananas. I was surprised at the price the banana man set--more than 20 times what he charged me. Then I thought, "It's no more than a nickel to them. But to him and his family it will make a lot of difference."
I was deeply tan then and wore my hair in a braid because it was easier. I had bought my cotton dress in the US, but it was a simple tropical print and didn't look out of place. When I spoke to the woman, "I see you are from Miami," she was as surprised as if one of the roof supports had given voice. We chatted awhile and I recommended a town hotel for its dining room. Meanwhile, the banana man looked a bit uneasy. Then after smiles and goodbyes, the tourists got back in their car and drove away. The banana man looked relieved.
The next day when I stopped in the banana shed on my way from the town market the price of my bananas had gone way down.