"You must go to the Spicy Market." Maybe they meant Spice Market, but with thick accents and misconstrued pronunciation of all present vowels, it came out Spicy Market. And spicy it was indeed.
There are few places I enjoy wandering around more than a good market. Piles of pepper, cascades of curries and chilies, green heaps of henna waiting to be painted on lovely ladies. Thick, succulent cherries, and berries, and radishes and artichokes. Soaked grape leaves drying in the sun. Fish waiting to be fried, dates ready to be tasted, and handsome men yearning to sell you cheeses.
So many people going about their business in unison. Neighbors greeting one another, hecklers heckling, tourists searching for saffron and exotic Russian curry.