This is one of the woodworkers. Note that he has no shoes on, he is sitting on the door he is cutting a hole through, and that he is using a small pull-saw. I watched him for what was probably half an hour, and by the time we had to leave he had made it through the veneer on one side, and maybe half way through the core. Painful I tell you. This could be done in minutes with anything with power. A skill saw, jigsaw, scrollsaw, ANYTHING! But they do everything by hand. Why? Because labour is cheap, and they are not paid by the hour, so it doesn't matter to them how long it takes. So backward I tell you.After hangin' at the bakery for a little bit, we make our way to the metro station.
Unfortunately thus far the closest one is a half hour away, but eventually there will be a station just minutes away from the bakery. Going into and out of the metro was strange because it felt like it was in another country. When underground or in one of the stations, everything is neat and tidy, floors are swept, advertisment signs are backlit and the glass is clean, there are signs with directions on them and maps. None of these things will you ever see outside the station. There are a few road signs telling you which direction a road is in, but no roads are marked, and if you miss your turn you are screwed. 
Walking out of this high-tech station was like walking back in time. You step out into the filtered sunlight and into a whole nother world. There are bodies everywhere, mixed with traffic and bicyles, cow carts and horse-drawn buggys. Crossing the street is reminiscent of that old video game frogger. You can only cross one lane of traffic at once and that's if you can even determine what a lane is. If you make eye contact and put your hand up vehicles will usually stop to let you pass, but this in itself is an art yet to be mastered... I mostly just hold Anna's hand and trust her excelent judgement, close my eyes and run when told. 
Looking up I see masses of tangled wires going from derelict building to derelict building, and signs plastered over every inch of available space on the fronts of these buildings, holding them together as well I swear. People live above these shops, and each shop must be an average of about 10 feet wide at most. I have no clue how you get to the residences above, because I can't ever see a staircase... must be in the backs of the stores. We grab a couple bicycle rickshaws and make our way to the busiest place on earth.
It's the industrial market, where everyone goes to buy things for their businesses. There is absolutely NO do it-yourself, simply because there is always someone to do it for you. And it's nearly imposible to find the tools to do it yourself. Evey shop is highly specialised, and so you'd have to go to about 100 shops to find everything to simply fill a basic tool kit. I wasn't able to take any pictures within this market because I was constantly fighting to keep up with everyone without getting trampled underfoot the masses. Basically picture an alleyway between 3 and 4 storey buildings about 15-20 feet wide, and completely jammed with bodies all walking quickly in various directions. If you want to go anywhere, you'd better get in the flow, keep left and don't stop walking unless you deak into a shop. Thankfully Dave and Marc are head and shoulders above everyone so I could almost always find them. They could never find me though. For once, I'm exactly the same height as EVERYONE. We found the crate place we were looking for and got the information necessary. From there we managed to find the steel and aluminum market, and got some tart tins and loaf pans. What a day.
But it's not finished yet. By some sort of miracle we find the main road and walk along it for ten minutes till we find two free bicycle rickshaws. We take these to a bus stop. Wait... bus? Dave has never been on the local transit yet. he has avoided it at all cost for over four years. Why? you ask? Well, let's just say it's an entire adventure in itself. We got on the bus, and it was nearly empty. We found a couple of seats, and settled in for the two minute ride. People jump on and off the bus as it drives, no joke, it only stops at major stops, so you have to jump off if you want off before that. Next stop about a hundred people pile on. It is sardines to the max. But wait... I hear Daves voice a few seats behind me saying we have to get off in a minute. This means we have to get through these bodies? You've got to be kidding me. We manage to get standing, and our seats are filled before we have even left them. We too are now sardines. But we're in the center of the bus and we have to get to the front in about 10 secconds because the bus is slowing down. I have no clue how we did it, but we sqeezed our way through the masses and got out the door just as the bus started to roll away. I think it helps that we're white. People were a bit more concerned that we got off. Apperently foreigners never ride the transit. I don't blame them. It is pure insanity.
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