The first steps taken in the Belen Market invoke the feeling of stepping into the Twilight Zone.  The noise builds at the juice stands on the Calle 9 de Diciembre, then at the end of the street under the huge Belen Market sign, a corridor of women and children seated on the ground beckon you in, shouting the prices of their wares.

“Hay chambira, hay uvas, hay jugo de cocona a 50 centimos.” They form a narrow corridor that nudges you on, each wielding plastic bags of golf ball sized coconuts, chambira, and fruits of every variety, juices such as that of the cocona, or guayava, and countless fistfuls of spices and condiments.