I'll admit, I went to the Raleigh Flea Market with high expectations secretly hoping to relive my experiences of the markets in India. I wanted the color of fabrics hanging from tents, the textures of old books and pottery, and the smell of fresh Naan baking in an oven. I knew this was a tall order as I drove our old gray Volvo with the windows down. I kicked on the heater just enough to off-set the chill in the air, and blasted Jeff Tweedy. 

Upon arrival, I quickly noticed the most diverse crowd I have encountered while living in North Carolina. Indian women walked around in bright flowing saris, Hispanic families were laughing and enjoying the sun, and middle aged women pawed through doilies and antique collectibles. Old men hung around tools telling stories and ignoring time, while booth owners squabbled among each other. Looking across the outdoor booths, I noticed several women in full birka. I was thrilled and immediately excited, after all, I was in North Carolina, not our urban neighborhood up north.

I wandered through the produce markets admiring the color spilling out of boxes, and ran my fingers through the strands of beads filling a table. The different languages blended together and sounded like a melody transporting my thoughts far away.

I limited my purchases to two, although I could have easily done some damage at the antique jewelry tables. I snapped some details of the textures and forms that reminded me of the day. Different items for sale reminded me of close friends that I missed; the old wooden chairs, middle eastern jewelry, and the mahogany dressers.

At dusk I drove to Neomonde's, a local  Lebanese Bakery and ate an amazing and fresh falafel pita wrap, and house-made hummus. The bakery sold shelves of spices, fresh breads and pastries, as a full menu. I was pleased to be in the minority speaking English. Driving home, I decided that If you are willing to drive 45 minutes and dig fairly deep in North Carolina's cultural pockets, you will probably find a gem.