My biggest realization of the day, besides the obvious fact that I’ll never play Monopoly again, was the striking contrast between the Des Moines farmer’s market and the Downtown Greenville farmer’s market I usually attend on Saturday mornings. The size difference between the two was the some 12 blocks versus the mere 3 or 4 we have in Greenville. But the biggest difference was the people.

I was pleasantly surprised by the diversity at the Des Moines Farmer’s Market. There were a large number is Asian and Hispanic families not just selling produce but also selling pupusas, a Salvadorian tortilla pocket of rice, meat and a fermented coleslaw akin to kimchi. A pressed juice truck operated by Lululemon-wearing women sat next to a tent selling fudge where the ladies looked like they’d been working the crowds since the 80’s. There was a tent selling egg rolls and home-grown tomatoes, a grilled cheese stand, mini donuts, ice cream sandwiches, polish pastries, Indian food and the list goes on for blocks. Seasoned farmers in their overalls occupied tents next to farmers who looked much younger and less weathered by the sun, these were farmers you could tell hadn’t grown up farming and would have some choice words to say about mono-cropping and Monsanto.

We don’t see this in Greenville. At home, each tent looks the same and the demographic of both buyers and sellers is largely dominated by Caucasians who make their money in niche marketing: artisan soaps, artisan baked goods, heirloom produce. There is a sense of security that everything you’re buying has been vetted and because Greenville is still a relatively small city, one can develop a relationship with the farmers and producers. You know where they live, you know where they work. In Des Moines, it’s easy to get lost in a crowd. . The farmer’s market here resembled some mix between a state fair and a farmer’s markets. There were vendors selling watermelons, pumpkins, avocados and very early tomatoes for this time of year. But out of season and out of country produce was selling just as fast as the local stuff. This group of vendors knew their customer base was relatively uneducated about how farming works and catered to their stupidity. While ethically I find this wrong, these “farmers” are skilled salesmen and are just giving the people what they want: “local” watermelons in May.

Again, I come back to diversity. It was an overly stimulating experience, big crowds, loud people and so much to choose from. And these local farmers are trying to shout a little louder to try and get their food on people’s plates.