Placidly perusing the Placita, by Dione Goyette

I knew that at some point in the life of this column I would have to address my love of the Tuesday market. It's a love that verges precariously on the obsessive. And love was by no means an immediate reaction-quite the opposite.

The first time we visited the tianguis, I couldn't wait to get out of there. In fact, I swore I would never go back. But like the draw of a bad boyfriend, the Tuesday market lured me back … and back … and back.

When we first started exploring San Miguel, many people told us to visit the Tuesday market. "You'll find anything you could ever want there," I was told. So, on only our second day here in Mexico, we all headed up there, naively hoping to find beautiful woven cloth and pottery and other handicrafts. Of course, now we know these fine products are blatantly missing from the Tuesday market.

Instead, we found yards and yards of tarps covering such a hodgepodge of items it was overwhelming. What I remember most about our first Tuesday market experience was not the look of extreme longing on the faces of my kids as their eyes traveled over the vast terrain of cheap toys, but the noise. There were dogs barking, roosters crowing, salesmen yelling, people talking and tinny music blaring from all corners. It was mayhem, and I hated every minute of it. We were jostled about by people pushing past us in the narrow corridors, and we had a hard time staying together as the crowds swam in and around us. My kids greedily counted their pesos, which they could sense would go far in this place, and I counted the minutes before we could leave.

After that first visit I vowed never to return. It had nothing that interested me, and even if it did, emotionally I couldn't handle the chaos. But then I started noticing my friends acquiring beautiful brand-name linens and designer clothes. When they told me it had all come from the Tuesday market, I was dumbfounded. "I just don't get it!" I wailed in desperation. Where were all these treasures?

One Tuesday, though, my friend Shannon took me by the hand and led me back up the hill to the market. She began pointing out the noteworthy tables. She showed me the table that was best for kids' clothes, the table for jeans, the expensive-but-worth-it table and the walk-on-by tables. All of a sudden, the chaos began to take on some definition. Certain areas became targets and others just terrain to cross to the next harvesting area. Once I knew that vendors kept their same spots each week, it became easier to maneuver my way through the sea of merchandise. Within a few weeks, I was a pro.

At the beginning of my love affair, though, I only had a Tuesday market "shelf-life" of about an hour before I would become shaky, anxious and way too overstimulated. At this point, I would make a quick exit and begin a nice long quiet walk home down the hill. I would make a point of walking to and from the market each week, not only for the exercise but for the quiet and solitude I needed to frame the market experience.

My ability to withstand the chaos of the market became extended, though, last February when I hooked up with two new friends here whom I quickly renamed my "Tuesday market facilitators" (or "enablers," as my husband called them). These gals were like shopping cheerleaders. Not only would they pull up the best "finds" from deep within the mounds of seemingly ignorable clothes, but they also cheered me on when my energy and resolve waned. Most importantly, they weren't my size, nor did they have any kids that were the same sizes as my own, and so our weekly trips were bereft of competition.

This year, I am unfortunately without my facilitators, but I have grown to love the tianguis in so many more ways. I now sample new licuados, quesos and verduras each week, and when Paul accompanies me we seek out new tacos, fish soups and other delectable treats like those awesome churros! With the addition of the food element, I have been able to extend my visits to two or three hours, depending on the day. Last week was a record for me. One of my "enablers" was back in town, and she would only be here for one Tuesday, so I worked up my resolve and we ended up spending six hours there. We actually saw some tables being set up in the morning and the same tables being taken down at the end of the day. "Pathetic" is the first word that comes to my mind, but I landed five new pairs of jeans for my girls, and for four bags of clothes I spent less than $250 pesos.

If you think I am a shopper, you are wrong. I actually hate shopping. I guess I would call myself more of a "hunter-gatherer," and I would love to end this article with a map and a list of key spots at the market. But like all good hunters, I never reveal my hunting grounds. I can leave you with a few tips however. Never go to the market looking for something specific (it could take hours to find it.). Bring small bills (give the poor vendors a break). And don't even think about touching anything in a size 6!