We read in the ARA what they will be the ordinances that could prevent the world-famous Boqueria Market from becoming as authentic as Port Aventura's Polynesian Corner, where they suggest you "enter a lush jungle where you'll meet exotic and indigenous birds." Yes, in that order: birds and indigenous birds. At La Boqueria, for the moment, there are no exotic birds, which have long been banned, nor any indigenous birds; everyone has been scared away. These ordinances state that processed products must be made "from a series of agreed-upon fresh products, presented at room temperature or chilled, cut or sliced, or prepared and ready to eat." This is perhaps the way to put an end to the few of ours. nuggetsBut it's perhaps the way to perpetuate those plastic jars of cut-up fruit.
When you go to the spice market in Istanbul, you feel a bit like the (not entirely idiotic) tourist at La Boqueria. No Istanbulite will go there to buy (they say) little boxes of saffron that actually contain red-tinted pubic hair, to haggle over a fake Barça shirt or a braided leather bag that will fall apart before you get to the hotel. Papier-mâché is fun—I, in Las Vegas, in front of the fake pyramids, died of pleasure—but when you're not being fooled, who among us will buy those plastic jars of cut-up fruit instead of, say, buying an apple from Lleida to complain about in the street?
The future is that waves of tourists, even them, will understand that La Boqueria "is no longer authentic" because "they" (that's us) no longer go there. Then, the smartest ones will start to invade the Ninot. They will Instagrams where they'll talk about authenticity. The stampede won't be long in coming. The indigenous people will leave. You can't go to the market if, once you're pushing a shopping cart, you can't get past the crowd. And someone will say that maybe it would be worth selling fruit (the unsalable kind) cut into pieces and in plastic cups.
