The Smell of Elotes in the Morning

    Sleeping in on the weekends is impossible when you've got a child in the house, but I won't complain as I prepare my cup of coffee. It's a Sunday morning and grilled corn calls to me. As the caffeine finds its way through my system, energizing this tired body, my son and I head out to meet the crowds down the street, lining up to enter the local "flea market."

    Living in the Rio Grande Valley means living between Mexico and America. A space that, while yes, is on American soil, embraces and celebrates Mexican culture as if the border between both countries doesn't exist. While I have lived in other cities and states, I always find my way back home to the RGV (Rio Grande Valley), where I was born and raised. To the familiar smells of tortillas and mesquite and the sounds of Spanish intermixed with English and "valley" slang. It is home, and one of the best representations of the culture is at the local flea market. The Pulga de Alamo to be exact. (The pulga is technically called the Mercadome though I have never heard anyone refer to it as that. It is just the Pulga).

    The "Pulga de Alamo" (pulga means "flea" in Spanish) is more than just a market-it's a cultural crossroads where local entrepreneurs, bargain hunters, and community members come together to shop, hustle, and connect. It is a weekend tradition, and while there are numerous markets across the "valley," the Pulga de Alamo is THE king of RGV markets. Boasting multiple parking lots, seller warehouse areas, and rows upon rows of vendor stands, the Pulga is an expansive marketplace. Each weekend, vendors from across the region set up their booths, creating a varied shopping experience for everyone in the family. From handmade jewelry, furniture, fresh produce, toys, and leather goods… there's something for everyone. There is even a dance hall that hosts weekly bailes or dances. The market is an experience, though the magic of the flea market isn't just in the bargain finds and dancing; it's in the people who bring this locale to life. 

    One of the most compelling aspects of the flea market is the diversity of vendors and their stories. For some, their booths were the launchpad for their small businesses. For others, it's the space where they can indulge in their hobbies (and profit from them), such as craftsmen or woodworkers with small furniture items and wares. For some, it's where they bring family recipes to life or share the fruits of their gardens (literally) with all in the community. Others also use these spaces to lighten the clutter in their own homes, engaging in second-hand sales (almost like garage sales) of various home goods and clothes, treasured items full of memories now finding their way into others' hands. As you pass through the stalls and aisles of vendors, it's typical to find folks lingering at booths, swapping stories and catching up, sharing a Mexican coke or spiropapa as they shop. The flea market fosters a sense of belonging that is sometimes hard to find elsewhere. 

    In a time when convenience often trumps connection, the Pulga reminds us of the value of human interaction and the joy of supporting local community members. It's a space where creativity flourishes, stories are shared, and every purchase has a face behind it. Whether you're hunting for a leather belt, DVDs (whether these are bootleg or not, I'll never tell), or simply soaking in the music and dancing, the flea market offers an experience far beyond the transactional. 

    As my son and I pass the entrance turnstile, we head straight for the elote and spiropapa stand-our favorite snacks to start our Pulga day. Who knows how long we'll be here or what we'll find… we'll listen to the corridos, stock up on fresh produce, obsess over the plant lady's haul this week, or maybe chat with my tia Anita, who often sets up shop to sell items she doesn't want at her house anymore. As always we'll grab raspas before we head home for the day and make our plan to return next week, ready for another adventure.