Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela: One-Stop Shopping in CDMX

The best market in Mexico City is filled with folk art and handicrafts from all around Mexico.  

A selection of fantastical alebrijes on sale at La Ciudadela

Mexico City has no shortage of markets. There’s the Saturday art market along the adorable cobblestone streets on the hills of San Ángel. There’s La Lagunilla, the Sunday antiques market. There’s also the Mercado Sonora, with a witch market tucked into a back corner, and the vibrant, two-story Mercado Coyoacán. And market stalls pop up all over the city, including in the Plaza de la Republica at the entrance to the Monumento de la Revolución. 

Papier-mâché devils hanging around the mercado

¡Mucha lucha! A luchadore-themed shop at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Religious artifacts on sale at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

But if you’re into folk art, handicrafts and arte popular, as Duke and I are, the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela is a dream come true. It’s so massive you couldn’t even hope to cover it all on one visit. We’ve been there on both visits to CDMX — and will make it a stop every time we go back. 

If I’m being perfectly honest, Duke and I have a problem. We just love traditional handicrafts so much we can’t help but bring home half a suitcase full of goodies. As you can imagine, our home is practically overflowing with these souvenirs of our world travels. 

A nun is amazed at the selection of folk art on sale at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

We bought a few things at this stall with clay artworks in the pre-Columbian style.

Puppets and other arte popular fill every stall at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

Mexican Trees of Life at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

A typical shop at La Ciudadela

Break up your shopping — and grab a margarita — at the cantina in the market.

Tips for Shopping at Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

When you enter, the main part of the market is to your right — but don’t miss the smaller section off to the left as well. 

The stalls offer handicrafts from various regions all over Mexico: alebrijes, brightly painted wooden fantastical creatures from Oaxaca; colorful Otomi textiles, including hand-embroidered pillow covers and tablecloths depicting animals, flowers and plants; clay sculptures that surpass those sold at the Museo Nacional de Antropología gift shop with many in the pre-Columbian style. 

There are handicrafts for sale from all over Mexico at the Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela.

At La Ciudadela, prices are set — but it doesn’t hurt to ask for a bit of a discount if you’re buying multiple items from one vendor. 

We always eat lunch at Fonda Carmelita, the cantina in the middle of the market.

There’s a cantina in the middle of the market called Fonda Carmelita, where we always stop to get a bite of traditional Mexican fare — and a couple of margaritas, por supuesto. The first time we were here, Duke went to the back to use the baño and returned to the table, reporting that our frozen margs were being whipped up in a blender by an 8-year-old boy. 

The cantina will always be a welcome resting spot for us to recharge and discuss the stalls we want to revisit after lunch. Apparently, the loud-talking German-speaking tourist at a neighboring table didn’t get the memo that smoking indoors has been banned in CDMX since 2008. He lit up a cigar after his meal, which was our cue that it was time to ask for la cuenta and get back to shopping. 

Right out front of the market, a couple of women whip up tacos with homemade blue corn tortillas.

Exploring the Neighborhood

On the sidewalk outside the market, small vendors set up. The first time we came, we stopped to buy veggie tacos — and were obsessed with watching one of the women make homemade blue corn tortillas on a large metal drum right before our eyes. 

And on our most recent visit, a quirky used record stand had popped up. 

One of the best traditions of Mexico City: open-air dancing in the parks

After a half-day of shopping, the tote bags we had brought with us stuffed full of amazing finds (some for gifts, most for us), we explored the park across the street, Parque de la Ciudadela. We’re familiar enough with CDMX traditions now not to be surprised to see couples dancing in the open air. These people are doing life right. –Wally

Our fave spot to shop in CDMX

A mural on the wall in front of the mercado

When you see this, you know you’re in for a shopping extravaganza!

Mercado de Artesanías La Ciudadela

Balderas S/N
Colonia Centro
Cuauhtémoc
06040 Cuauhtémoc
CDMX
Mexico

The Quirky Charms of the L’Isle sur la Sorgue Sunday Market

Part flea market, part farmers market, stalls line the river that encircles this town in Provence known for antiques. 

L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is entirely surrounded by a canal, like a watery hug.

We learned about L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue from ma mère. She’s always been good at research and finding fun excursions as well as amazing places to stay on vacation. I still recall that she and her fellow librarians in Annapolis were among the first ones to realize the potential of what was then an upstart search engine named Google. 

Dave and Shirley wait for Wally and Duke to stop goofing off inside an antique store.

A toast to a wonderful little Provençal town! Wally and Duke get fancy with their cafés crèmes.

While we were staying in Aix-en-Provence (those Provençals sure love their hyphens), the Shirl, as we affectionately refer to my mom — sometimes even to her face! — informed us of the Sunday market in a nearby medieval town named L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. Most of the small towns in Provence have their charms, but what makes this one so downright adorable is the fact that it’s encircled by a river — hence its name, which references an island on the River Sorgue. The Sunday market stretches along the water’s edge halfway around the town.

Pretty much everywhere you look in Provence is stinkin’ cute, like this small square.

Round and Round in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue

We got up early on Sunday morning to catch a train to L’Isle. (I’m not sure if that’s what locals call it, but L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is just too much of a mouthful to say every time. For the record, the town is pronounced, “Leel sur la Sorg.”)

There were once many watermills in town — now all that remain are the algae-covered wheels.

Bridges crisscross the canals, and now and then you’ll pass large wooden wheels in the water, covered with beards of green algae. They’re now fenced off and just there for show, the mills they were once connected to long gone. Et bien sûr, with the canal surrounding the town, it has earned the predictable nickname “the Venice of Provence.” We were there back in 2017, but more recent photos reveal that they’ve run with this, and the river is now filled with gondolas. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Aw, heck, who am I kidding? Duke and I would have totally caught a ride in one.

Wally had a delightful day exploring the L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue Sunday Market.

Duke takes a break on one of the back porches that line the River Sorgue.

About 300 stalls are said to set up each Sunday, selling everything from secondhand goods to saucisson. 

We didn’t purchase any bull sausage.

Right as we entered the town, we passed a table with various representations of the Provençal mascot, the cicada. (Learn why this lovely part of France chose a bug as its symbol.) We admired an iron trivet shaped like a cicada. Not sure we wanted to lug it around all day, we uttered that famous phrase of many a traveler: “We’ll get it on the way back.” 

But then I remembered having been burned before: You never know where the day will take you, or if the vendor will sell out or pack it up early. So I forked over the requisite francs (actually, by this time it was probably euros, but that doesn’t have as nice a ring to it). The trivet still sits in the windowsill above our kitchen sink. 

The charming vendor who had the Shirl blushing

The Shirl’s Suitor

One section of the market opens up into a square filled with various stands selling food items. A diminutive man, who wasn’t even as tall as my 5’2” mother, with a prominent nose and a beaming smile, called out to us as we passed by. He zeroed in on the Shirl, and started flirting with her something fierce. He shamelessly ogled her, showering her with compliments, wrapping his arm around her back, unphased by the presence of my father. He was so full of energy and was so amusingly slick, we all just laughed at his antics. 

Tasty Mediterranean spreads

The samples and the flirting are free!

He was selling various tapenades and other spreads, and offered to have us try some free samples before realizing he had run out of bread. 

So he told us, “Un moment,“ and darted off to a nearby stall, where he snatched a baguette. It looked like he stole it, which cracked us up — though I’m sure he has an agreement with nearby vendors. 

He sliced the bread up, slathered on some of his colorful spreads and batted his eyes at the “belle madame.” He was so utterly charming and over the top, we felt obliged to purchase quite a few jars of his wares. 

One of many charming vistas in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue

At one point, the Shirl stopped to admire a scarf. It was blue, of course. We joke that my mom likes lots of colors: blue and white and…blue. 

She put the scarf down and moved on through the crowd. We waited till she was out of sight, and then Duke snatched the scarf and bought it for her as a Christmas present. He’s sneaky that way.

Vintage toys line the back wall of one shop.

Gone Antiquing

L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is also known for its antique shops. The town’s reputation as an antiquing hub draws crowds from all over Europe, and prices tend to be high. Peter Mayle, he of A Year in Provence fame, famously groused, “The only thing you can’t get in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is a bargain.”

Despite being steeped in the fancy heirlooms of the past, L’Isle has a playfulness to it. Most of the stores don’t take themselves too seriously. You’ll find a statue of a giraffe statue peeking its head up amongst birdcages or a smiling clown looking to have his finger pulled. 

No antique snobs here! The town has a whimsical feel.

Wally clowns around.

We hit a bunch of shops after wandering through the market. One was situated right on the river’s edge. It seemed to balance precariously over the water, like the slightest push would cause it to totter into the Sorgue. We peered out the back door and chuckled over an amusing vignette: In the middle of the river, two chairs sat partially submerged at a table.

That’s one way to cool off and take a break.

Inside the two-level store chock-a-block with antique bric-a-brac, we rummaged through a bin of hand-painted numbered tiles until we found two 5s, which we passed off to my parents, who purchased them to use as their house number. 

I mean, how cute is this glass? Wouldn’t you steal it, too?

Many of the buildings in L’Isle are painted bright colors like this sunshine-yellow bistro.

The wait was too long at this restaurant, so we headed to another establishment, where we had delicious salads for lunch.

The L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue train station, which meant that another fun excursion had come to an end

We grabbed lunch at a café and sat on a small balcony over the river. The glass my beer came in was so cute, complete with a cicada, it somehow found its way in my bag. Karma ended up catching up with me, though. Because we hadn’t been back in our vacation rental for five minutes before the bag bumped into a wrought iron gazebo-like structure by the kitchen, and I heard the glass shatter. C’est la vie! –Wally

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The Charming Chaos of the Hanoi Old Quarter

How to navigate the endless stream of motorbike traffic, plus a history of the 36 Streets in Hanoi, Vietnam, which are divided up by the products they sell.

Women sitting outside on small stools at makeshift shops are a common sight in the Hanoi Old Quarter.

We trust our doctor to not only keep us healthy, but we often take his travel advice as well. When I told Dr. Slotten we were planning a week in Vietnam, he recommended we skip Ho Chi Minh City and instead fly in and out of Hanoi, with its utterly charming Old Quarter. Decision made. After all, often the best travel advice you can get is from people who have blazed the trail before you.

A gorgeous fruit market we stumbled upon

So, for us, there wasn’t any debate: We knew we wanted to stay in Hanoi’s Old Quarter, known as the Hoàn Kiếm District. We just didn’t quite know what we’d be getting into.

After the first day or so, Vanessa and Duke stopped being intimidated by the near-death experience of crossing the road — for the most part.

How to Cross the Street in Hanoi

The first thing you need to know is how insane the traffic is. The narrow, winding streets are filled with motorbikes. A never-ending stream of motorbikes. This makes something as simple as crossing the street a near-death experience. 

Some vendors take their shops on the road.

As a pedestrian, you can’t wait for a break in traffic to cross the street — you’ll be waiting forever. Literally. 

So here’s what you have to do: Take a deep breath and step out into traffic. Don’t focus on the fact that there are swarms of motorbikes heading in your direction. Take slow, deliberate steps. It’s like a school of fish: Somehow — thankfully! miraculously! magically! — the motorbikes will swerve around you as you make your way across the street. 

I have a theory that you’d do just as well (or perhaps even be better off) closing your eyes, though I never tried it.

Motorbikes piled high with goods and passengers are a common sight in Vietnam.

We spent a few days in Hanoi and didn’t end up with any sort of injury from these constant death-defying street crossings (though our travel buddy, Vanessa, did get her heel clipped a couple of times). 

The Hanoi version of a shoe store.

The 36 Streets: A History of the Old Quarter in Hanoi

There are more modern sections of the capital city of Hanoi, with wider streets that can be even more alarming to cross since you have to vie with cars barreling toward you across multiple lanes. 

That’s bananas! Merchandise fills the sidewalks throughout the Old Quarter.

But no trip to Hanoi is complete without an exploration of the Old Quarter. The area first became known as a place of craftsmanship and commerce during the Ly Dynasty (1010-1225), when Emperor Ly Thai To moved his capital to Hanoi. Artisans followed the imperial entourage to the new city and set up shop in the shadow of the new palace, forming guilds to protect their best interests. In fact, what's now the Old Quarter was enclosed behind thick rampart walls with massive wooden gates until well into the 19th century.

Songbirds in cages were music to our ears.

The winding streets are densely packed with long, narrow shops — a ploy to avoid high taxes — with merchandise spilling out onto the sidewalk. Hanoi’s Old Quarter is known as the 36 Streets, though in truth these were more like small neighborhoods, often housing people from the same village who had learned a traditional trade. Each neighborhood’s name began with the word “Hang,” which can be defined as “shop,” and had a temple or communal house known as a dinh dedicated to its patron spirit. 

Wally and Duke called this stretch Tin Pan Alley.

Navigating these twisting streets can be quite a challenge. I typically have a better sense of direction than Duke, but I was perpetually lost in the Old Quarter. Somehow Duke was able to keep landmarks in his head. We’d be wandering for a while, and then he’d say, “If we turn right at that shop with all the gravestone markers, it’s a straight shot to the hotel.” And I would just shake my head in amazement and be glad that one of us was able to find our way back.

Colorful fruit on sale — some types we hadn’t seen before

I spent quite a bit of time trying to discover a list of the original 36 Streets, without much luck. Then I learned that the 36 might be an abstract concept. In Eastern philosophy, the number nine represents the concept of abundance. Multiply that by the four cardinal directions, and you get 36.

The currency of Vietnam is actually the dong — which always made Wally and Duke giggle when they asked, “How many dongs is that?”

I know why the caged bird sings.

The fish market was filled with blood and guts.

Some of the streets are still dedicated to their original goods, though most have adapted to more modern products as the centuries have passed by. And the winding streets are now further subdivided so that there are currently 76. 

Before we knew what was happening, a woman had the hat on Duke’s head and was positioning the pole on his shoulder. So, we ran with it, took a picture and gave her some money.

The narrow buildings lean against each other, looking like they’re about to topple over like dominos.

Unable to find a trustworthy list of the 36 Streets, I’ve cobbled this one together from a few sources. Don’t view it as the authoritative record — but here are some of the guilds, featuring the area’s name, what it originally sold, and where possible, what it now offers:

1. Hang Bac: Silver — now jewelry

2. Hang Bat: Glazed terracotta ware

3. Hang Be: Rafts

4. Hang Bo: Bamboo baskets — now haberdashery (small items for sewing, including buttons, zippers and ribbons)

5. Hang Bong: Cotton products, such as blankets and pillows

6. Hang Buom: Sails — now imported foods, alcohol and sweets

7. Hang Chai: Bottles and other recycled goods

8. Hang Chieu: Sedge mats — now mats, rope and bamboo blinds

9. Hang Cot: Bamboo lattices

10. Hang Da: Leather

11. Hang Dan: Stringed instruments

12. Hang Dao: Fabric, including silk

13. Hang Dau: Oil — now shoes

14. Hang Dieu: Pipes — now cushions and mattresses

15. Hang Dong: Copper

16. Hang Duong: Sugar — now clothes and general goods

17. Hang Ga: Chicken, duck and pigeon meat

18. Hang Gai: Hemp goods — now silk, tailoring and souvenirs

19. Hang Giay: Paper and shoes

20. Hang Hai: Shoes

21. Hang Hom: Wooden chests — now glue, paint and varnish

22. Hang Khay: Trays

23. Hang Luoc: Combs

24. Hang Ma: Paper votive objects — now paper goods

25. Hang Mam: Pickled fish

26. Hang May: Rattan goods

27. Hang Muoi: Salt

28. Hang Non: Hats

29. Hang Quat: Ceremonial fans — now religious accessories

30. Hang Than: Charcoal

31. Hang Thiec: Tin goods — now tin goods and mirrors

32. Hang Thung: Barrels

33. Hang Tre: Bamboo

34. Hang Trong: Drum skin — now bag mending and upholstery

35. Hang Vai : Fabric — now bamboo ladders

36. Hang Voi: Limes

What kind of person will this little tyke grow up to be? Depends on what neighborhood they grow up in!

Hanoians are said to associate a person’s character based on which area of the Old Quarter they live in. For instance, men from Hang Bac, known for its silversmiths, are polite and elegant, while women from Hang Dao, where silk is sold, are known for their charm and beauty. 

While we were in Hanoi, we stayed at the Prince II Hotel in Hang Giay, known for paper and shoes. I wonder what that makes us. –Wally

Much of the Old Quarter feels a bit run-down.

Flower vendors selling their fragrant wares from the back of their bikes

We knew we were near our hotel when we passed this gravestone maker. Hang Mam, once Pickled Fish Street, now sells marble headstone markers with a picture of the deceased.

Paper lanterns are on sale along Hang Ma, or Votive Paper Street.

Wally and Duke felt like babes in Toyland.

Plastic bags stuffed with stuffed animals — some of which just might end up at a carnival near you!

Many people in the Old Quarter spend all day sitting out on the sidewalk, beginning with a pot of pho for breakfast.

Fresh veggies can be bought out of baskets on the street.

This sign cracked us up every time we passed it.

Habiba Gallery in Luxor: Fair Trade Handicrafts

This charming shop in the Luxor souk sells gorgeous items made by local women’s collectives.

If you’re staying in Luxor, be sure to stop into Habiba Gallery to pick up some local handicrafts — and say hi to Linda, who owns the shop.

Wally and I have never met a souk we didn’t like. As our time in Luxor neared its end, we made arrangements with the concierge at our amazing hotel, Al Moudira, to take us across the Nile to shop for souvenirs.

We arrived about 20 minutes later, outside the atmospheric pavilion that serves as the tourist market of Luxor. You’ll know you’re there when you see the massive louvered wooden pergola flanked by a pair of smaller pergolas and the name El-Souk emblazoned above the entrance. For a moment I felt like we were stepping into the city’s past as horse-drawn carriages trotted by while I was taking a photo. 

“The shelves of Habiba are lovingly stocked with curated goods that represent the vast array of Egypt’s cultural richness and craft heritage.

Local producers, many of them women, are supported through the principles of fair trade, providing a path to economic self-sufficiency. ”

Beneath the latticework archway lies the entrance to the Luxor souk — just be careful of the horse and carriages.

Inside the pedestrian-friendly bazaar are merchants selling spices and shops selling scarves, djellabas, trinkets, alabaster, statuettes and more. It wasn’t exactly bustling — we were there on a Sunday, and as Luxor has a large Coptic Christian population, many stalls were closed — but that was fine by me. 

After haggling at a few stalls in the market, our eyes lit up when we spotted Habiba Gallery, located on Andrawes Pasha, a side street running off the main souk. Wally and I have always had a passion for handicrafts, and the shop came highly recommended by Zeina Aboukheir, the “boss lady” proprietor of Al Moudira. 

A playful textile depicting village life, including a watermelon vendor and colorful birds in a cage

UnCommon Threads: Every item Has A Story

As we excitedly began to collect items we wanted to buy, Linda Wheeler, an Australian expat and the owner of Habiba Gallery, began sharing the stories behind the pieces. One of the first of many to catch our eye were a group of earthenware pottery. It was difficult to choose between the unique handmade pieces, but ultimately we settled upon a couple of plates, and a serving vessel in the shape of a cow. 

Duke and Wally couldn’t resist this dish shaped like a cow — at least they think it’s shaped like a cow.

Linda explained to us that the handmade pottery came from Tunis, a small village located in the Fayoum Oasis. The pieces were made by the former students of Swiss-born ceramicist Evelyne Porret. In 1989, Evelyne and her husband, Michel, established a pottery school to mentor and nurture the talents of the children of Tunis. Like Linda, Evelyne and Michel laid the foundation for locals to embrace an entrepreneurial spirit, and many of their students now run small businesses of their own.

Fun natural patterns adorn the plates we bought. The prices at Habiba are fair — no haggling necessary!

The next item was a supersized, Egyptian cotton hammam towel or blanket from Naquadah, a predominantly Coptic village located on the West Bank of the Nile River just south of Luxor. The fine textiles are woven by the local women, who have preserved the traditional craft of manual looming — practiced there since pharaonic times. 

Linda told us how her conversations with the producer of these textiles eventually led to the subtle variation in style we saw before us. We chose one with a simple deep blue striped pattern and hand-knotted fringe. 

This was quickly followed by a brightly colored embroidered textile with a whimsical scene depicting village life and a tote bag with a block-printed fly pattern. No one can deny a fly’s persistence, and the Ancient Egyptians viewed this trait as a positive attribute. Pharaohs were known to have presented military personnel with a golden fly amulet to acknowledge an individual’s success and tenacity. We now better understood the impressive necklace with three flies on it that we had seen at the Luxor Museum.

Wally regaled Linda with a story about how I was unable to exercise discipline when it came to negotiating — in fairness, I had caved rather easily at the shop we visited beforehand, but I was not going to leave Egypt without a few rather authentic-looking objects. Linda diplomatically replied, “Well, if you love them, then it was worth it. And if you think you’re getting a good deal, then that’s OK.”

The shelves of the shop are lovingly stocked with curated goods that represent the vast array of Egypt’s cultural richness and craft heritage. Local producers, many of them women, are supported through the principles of fair trade, providing a path to economic self-sufficiency. 

Whimsical hand-painted wooden spindle dolls reminded Duke of Japanese kokeshi.

One of the refreshing things about Habiba is that everything is clearly marked, so there’s no need to ask for the price or haggle. Linda was never pushy and allowed us to peruse the shop at our own pace. After about 20 minutes, we had a large stack piled on the counter — quite a few things for ourselves as well as presents for family and friends.

Linda, an Aussie expat, started Habiba with a sewing machine and a dream. The shop now showcases gorgeous handicrafts made by women’s collectives in Egypt.

The Story of Habiba and Its Goal of Female Empowerment

It all started when Linda brought her trusty sewing machine with her to Luxor. 

“The idea was to impart my simple skills and love of sewing onto the ladies in Karnak,” Linda says. “Some were widowed, divorced or illiterate, and I hoped to encourage them to make their own clothing. But this was a daunting task, so I reverted to beadwork, a traditional technique familiar to the women, and discovered they were happy to apply their skills to smaller items such as accessories.”

Wanting to find a way to improve these marginalized women’s livelihoods and provide them with a sustainable source of income, Linda decided to open a shop to sell their products. She chose Habiba, the Arabic word for “beloved,” and, with the help of Abd el Shafy, who assisted with the maze of bureaucracy, her dream came true. 

Habiba is filled with beautiful handicrafts like these wooden boxes with geometric mother of pearl marquetry.

At first, the shop didn’t offer a large range of items. “I borrowed a black jalabiya and headscarf and set out with my friend Sahar to find additional handicrafts,” Linda says. “Being a traveller, the thought excited me, and what better reason to see the country and meet the local community? I’ve been to the Siwa Oasis, Sinai Peninsula, Western Desert, Aswan, Fayoum Oasis and El-Mahalla.”

She also partnered with Fair Trade Egypt. “I would travel to the source to see how the product was made and who was involved,” Linda explains. “Meaningful relationships were formed, and over time we’ve developed new ideas with them.”

Technology has improved communication and social customs have relaxed, so Linda no longer needs to modestly cover herself in native garb when she travels around Egypt. 

Linda’s favourite site in Luxor is Karnak Temple. “I will walk through to the offering room, past those huge columns, and then on to the sanctuary of Sekhmet at the Temple of Ptah. It’s my place for grounding,” she says. So it’s fitting that she has helped to establish a workshop space in Karnak named Hands of Habiba, where the women are learning to become independent.

“For me, being a shop owner isn’t entirely about the money,” Linda says. “It’s about sharing the comments of our happy customers with the artisans. My life here has been about the women and the love and support that we give to each other. Living in Egypt is a simple life: buying local, living local and supporting local. The people make the experience — so friendly and always willing to give you their time.”

Her time in Luxor amongst the locals just might have influenced her, as we found Linda to be a delight. If you’re in this part of Egypt, be sure to stop into Habiba and purchase something (or some things) to take back with you, knowing that you’re helping empower Egyptian women. –Duke

“My life here has been about the women and the love and support that we give to each other.

Living in Egypt is a simple life: buying local, living local and supporting local. The people make the experience — so friendly and always willing to give you their time.”

— Linda Wheeler, owner, Habiba Gallery

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RELATED: Shopping in Egypt? Here’s what to expect — and how to get the best bargains.

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Habiba Gallery
opposite the exit gate to Luxor Temple
Andrawes Pasha Street
Luxor, Egypt

Shopping in Egypt

Whether you’re hitting the Khan el-Khalili or the Luxor souk, here’s what to expect — and how to get the best bargains.

A lot of the handicrafts in Egypt are cheap-looking — probably cuz they were made in China

Zeina had warned us — but we didn’t heed her advice. She owned the hotel we stayed at in Luxor, and would make the rounds at dinner, stopping by the tables to chat.

We asked her about good shopping in Luxor, and she said if we wanted handicrafts we should head to the souk.

“We weren’t 50 feet inside the Luxor airport before we were detained. ”

She pleaded with us to resist buying anything that even remotely resembled an antique, launching into a tale about how the model Kate Moss and someone from Christian Dior had stayed at her hotel last week, and even though they had a private plane, they were delayed two days because something they had purchased at a shop below the Winter Palace hotel looked like it might be a relic.

Cotton candy becomes an artistic medium at Khan el-Khalili in Cairo

Aside from the odd street vendor, this is the only food you’ll find at Khan el-Khalili. There aren’t any cafés — just coffeeshops, where the most you can ingest is shisha (hookah) smoke

The next night, it was someone else who bought something at the same shop, who also had a private plane, but this poor gentleman had been sleeping at the police station for three nights while an expert took their sweet time checking the authenticity of the item.

Afterward, Duke and I smiled at each other. Zeina seemed to be a storyteller. And I’m OK with that. I’ve never let the truth get in the way of a good story. And I figured there was an underlying morale to her tales, a warning we shouldn’t ignore.

The Luxor Souk has one main drag — and some good finds

“I nodded agreeably. I knew he was lying and he knew I knew; we were playing the time-honored game of mercantile duplicity, in which both parties profess the most noble sentiments while each plans to cheat the other as thoroughly as possible.”

— Elizabeth Peters, “The Mummy Case”

The Luxor Souk

We arrived at the souk relatively early, around 10:30 a.m. Because it was a Sunday (Easter, to boot), all of the Coptic Christian stalls were closed. Apparently there are a lot of Coptics in Luxor.

We had just entered the bazaar when I spied a shop I knew would appeal to me and Duke.

And sure enough, once we were inside, we started putting items aside: a stone Anubis head as well as a faded blue baboon statue head, a worn-looking blue ushabti servant figurine and other items you could imagine had just been dug out of the desert after being hidden away for centuries.

In other words, we were doing exactly what Zeina had told us not to do. But we couldn’t help ourselves; old-looking shit is our passion.

In less than 10 minutes, Duke and I had piled a dozen pieces onto the table.

A good portion of stalls are shut on Sunday at the Luxor Souk, since the Coptic Christians are at church

It was tough to gauge how much all of these should cost, but we had heard people calling out very low prices at the bazaars you have to walk through before leaving every temple you visit. (Exit through the gift shop.)

So when the vendor said, “$360,” I acted sad and a little disgusted and muttered, “That’s way too high. This is our first shop of the day. We’ll keep going and come back.”

“OK, OK,” the shopkeeper said, laying a hand on my shoulder to prevent me from leaving. “What’s your price?” I was aiming for $50, while Duke quietly said he’d be good with $75.

So I typed 45 on the calculator, to give myself the slightest bit of wiggle room, and the man countered with $150.

“Let’s go,” I told Duke. My famous walk-away ploy.

Again, I was stopped by a hand on the shoulder. “What’s your lowest price?”

“$50,” I said.

“You are tough,” the man said to me. Then, like a predator sizing up the weakest prey, he turned to Duke in a flash. “What’s your final offer?”

And I stood there in a daze as Duke said, “$150.”

“What happened to $75?!” I exclaimed.

But it was too late. Once you agree to a price it’s poor form to then back off.

I shook my head in dismay. But Duke hadn’t done any real shopping the entire trip, and I think he was suffering withdrawal.

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The bazaars are a bit of a maze and can get quite claustrophobic

RELATED: Secrets of the Souk: 8 Tips to Get the Best Deals in Arab Countries

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Motorbikes whizz through the souk — as it got dark, one almost ran right into Duke!

How to Get Detained at the Airport

I told the shopkeeper about my fear that we’ll be detained at customs. He laughed it off but said he’d give us documentation. So before we left I reminded him of this, and he scribbled some Arabic on the back of his business card. He told us he had written that we had bought 13 items that were reproductions. We put that into our bag, along with the receipt.

And sure enough, we weren’t 50 feet inside the Luxor airport before we were detained. We had put our bags through security, and the guard said, “Statues?” and called us off to the side.

We spent the next 30 minutes (which felt like an eternity) uncomfortably watching the man slice into the carefully wrapped items, opening them for a woman in a headscarf who scratched at them with a paperclip and held a lighter to them. She always lit them near the top, but I didn’t feel it was my place to suggest she try the back or base instead.

Every time she burned a section, she’d smell it and, without fail, would rear her head back, her nose scrunched up, obviously having smelled something unpleasant — namely, the synthetic materials used in the (all-too-convincing) replicas. But every time she’d grimace at the smell, a wave of relief washed over me.

In the end, she had taken notes on our items, copied down my passport number, then set us free to pack up the wreckage and go on our merry way.

A vendor sips Turkish coffee at Kahn el-Khalili souk in Cairo

How Not to Bargain

I was upset with Duke for having caved under the pressure — especially since it was the second time it had happened on the trip.

Despite our better judgement, we had decided to go to an alabaster shop suggested by our guide. In Egypt they’ll suggest alabaster, papyrus and perfume “factories.” At these shops, they’ll show you the creation process (which is actually quite fun), all the while insisting there’s no pressure to buy.

Of course that’s not true. After the demonstration, you’ll be ushered inside and served up a drink (I went for Turkish coffee), a salesperson hovering nearby.

We had decided to get some small flint canopic jars, the four containers in which Ancient Egyptians would place certain organs during the mummification process. I had played hardball, insisting on a low price; the salesman got frustrated, and pounced on Duke like a cobra, waving me away.

The man had started at the absurd price of $65 apiece, and Duke caved at $125 for all four.

As a rule, it’s best to avoid these types of tourist traps, and a good guide won’t pressure you to go to them. (They get a commission or some small payment for luring in unsuspecting victims.)

But you will hear the depressing refrain, “Everything in the souk is made in China,” so perhaps those type of stores are one of your only guarantees of quality materials and handcraftsmanship.

The charming Linda at her Luxor shop, Habiba Gallery

Habiba: The Best Shop in the Souk

If you’re in Luxor and want locally made handicrafts, you have to stop into Habiba Gallery, a darling shop Zeina had recommended, just off of the main street of the souk, toward the Nile and the ruins of Luxor Temple. It’s run by a friendly Aussie named Linda, who has lived in Egypt for 20 years. Her mission is commendable: She only sells items that are indigenous to regions where they’re made. Some whimsical plates with gorgeous trees and serving dishes with a goat’s head and tail were part of a project for children to try their hand at pottery after school. Now two of those kids have grown up and started a business, which is now one of Linda’s suppliers.

The selection at Habiba is amazing — we just kept adding more and more to our pile, including a handwoven hammam towel, scented soaps, a veiled doll with silver bangles, a framed piece of jewelry and a cloth with a local village scene woven onto it.

The best part is that the prices are fixed and totally fair. Take a break from haggling and stop in for a chat with the charming Linda. You’ll come away with some great finds — whether you give them as gifts or keep them for yourself. –Wally

A Perfect Afternoon in Artsy Coyoacán

Follow our six-stop walking tour of Mexico City’s bohemian neighborhood, including Plaza Hidalgo and Los Danzantes restaurant.

After visiting Frida’s house, explore the boho hood of Coyoacán and purchase some traditional regional handicrafts at the artisanal market.

There’s much to do in the charming neighborhood of Coyoacán beyond La Casa Azul, the lifelong home and studio of famed Mexican painter Frida Kahlo.

The municipality’s name comes from Coyohuacan, Nahuatl for “the Place of Coyotes.” This colonia, or neighborhood, features meandering streets filled with well-preserved colonial buildings, delicious restaurants and handicraft markets waiting to be explored.

You’ll see balloon vendors all over CDMX.

All you’ll need for a perfect afternoon in Coyoacán is a comfortable pair of shoes and a sense of adventure — the area is walkable, and all of the stops listed below can easily be explored by foot.

The Fuente de los Coyotes in Coyoacán

Make a Splash

Stop 1: Plaza Hidalgo

Your journey begins in the historic heart of Coyoacán, just a few blocks from La Casa Azul. On Avenida Francisco Sosa, you’ll find not one, but two public squares: Jardín Centenario, which memorializes the 100th anniversary of Mexico’s independence, and the Plaza Hidalgo. Together they form a typical colonial town square, complete with benches for people-watching, gazebos for music and vendors selling balloons.

Near the entrance of Plaza Hidalgo, a street artist was selling woven palm-leaf crickets. We purchased a pair for 50 pesos each (about $2.50), and as the vendor was handing them to us, a woman seated on a nearby bench offered her advice by telling us to use hairspray to keep them green.

People push crickets on you everywhere you go in Mexico City. These palm ones are more appetizing than the ones in the croquetas we ate.

Here you’ll find a circular stone fountain known as the Fuente de los Coyotes, or Fountain of the Coyotes, the animals from whom the borough takes its name. The iconic landmark occupies the center of the plaza and features two bronze coyotes by sculptor Gabriel Ponzanelli. Numerous spouts located around the perimeter spray graceful arcs of water into the air over the playful pair.

Be sure to stop into the exquisite Iglesia de Coyoacán, the large cathedral, across the way.

Ignacio Allende Esquina Avenida Miguel Hidalgo

Grab a bite on the patio of Los Danzantes, just off the park, for good food and people-watching.

Let’s Dance

Stop 2: Los Danzantes

On the periphery of the square is Los Danzantes, the Dancers, a multi-story restaurant in a colonial-era building with panoramic views of the park. Wally’s coworker Juls lived in Mexico City, and this is one of her favorite restaurants. We were seated outside on the patio terrace, and similar to the cafés of Paris, it was a great place to watch the world go by and enjoy a leisurely meal. While we were there, a guitarist paused for a moment as he passed by, looking to see if there might be an interested party willing to pay him to play a song or two. The restaurant also has its own mezcal distillery and grows seasonal produce in garden plots called chinampas in Xochimilco.

The bar at Los Danzantes

We had ceviche, cricket croquetas and hoja santa (holy leaf), a local specialty stuffed with goat cheese.

Mezcal and a mariachi are all it takes to make Duke happy.

Plaza Jardín Centenario 12

Look for these yellow arches across from the Jardín Centenario to enter the handicraft market.

Get Crafty

Stop 3: Mercado Artesanal Mexicano

After lunch, visit the Mexican Craft Market and walk beneath garlands of fluttering papel picado, colorful cut-tissue paper bunting. The two-story market has dozens of craft stalls featuring a wide variety of traditional Mexican handicrafts and regional specialties from all over the country, all in one place.

You’ll spot the coyotes for which the colonia is named all over the place.

Colorful skulls on offer at the craft market

We headed upstairs first, but it seemed to be endless stalls of tattoo artists and not many handicrafts. The first floor, though, was more our speed. Wally and are were especially drawn to the colorful Oaxacan alebrijes, traditional folk art depicting fantastical creatures embellished with brilliant patterns and colors. (We have a thing for the surreal.) Each small wooden totem is carved by hand, often using nothing more than a simple pocket knife. We brought home a strange little skeleton, a green and orange insect and a black cactus with a bright pink flower and hummingbird on top of it.

When I purchased an unusual-looking doll made from a bulbous gourd with coarsely braided rope pigtails, two tiny breasts and coconut shell limbs (200 pesos, or $10), Wally replied, “You like things that look old, are a little bit cuckoo and are unlike anything we’ve seen elsewhere.” He knows me so well.

Stalls often sell the same crafts at different prices, so shop around — but don’t expect to bargain for a lower price.

Felipe Carrillo Puerto 25

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BONUS STOP!

Pop into la Iglesia de Coyoacán (aka Parroquia San Juan Bautista) across the square.

The façade looks plain, but the inside is awash in gilded niches, sweeping arches and hand-painted ceiling frescos, with a peaceful cloister around back.

If that hasn’t convinced you, you can hunt down the creepy life-size mannequins of Christ and a dead baby!

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Grab a coffee and snack at Panadería Pública.

Take a Coffee Break

Stop 4: Panadería Pública

If shopping has worn you out, we recommend stopping for a delicious pastry paired with a great cup of coffee at the Panadería Pública for an afternoon pick-me-up. There’s an array of options here, including traditional conchas, campesinos and orejas, as well as French baguettes, croissants and pain au chocolat to name a few. I ordered a café con leche and Wally got his latte con leche light. We also purchased a pastelito de guayaba, a puff pastry similar in size and shape to a turnover, filled with cream cheese and guava paste. Stop to chat with the friendly staff.

Higuerra 22
La Concepción

The marigold yellow façade of La Conchita has seen better days but still has charm.

Goin’ to the Chapel

Stop 5: Plaza de la Conchita

A short stroll southeast is the leafy Plaza de la Conchita in the colonia La Concepción, a quiet sanctuary that feels worlds away from the crowds of tourists visiting La Casa Azul just a few miles away. The small square contains a pale yellow, timeworn and weather-beaten beauty of the 16th century, the Churrigueresque, or Spanish Baroque-style, chapel known as La Conchita. One of the oldest in Mexico, it’s said that the conquistador Hernán Cortés ordered the church to be built on top of a Toltec altar soon after he settled in Coyoacán. The village was used as the base for the conquistadors after they conquered the Aztec Empire.

The church is designed in the Churrigueresque, or Spanish Baroque, style.

Duke sits on the steps around back.

Unfortunately, the chapel was closed, so we couldn’t venture inside, but the building itself is a charming example of colonial architecture.

The fellas love to take jumping shots.

Golden hour made the church walls glow.

Fernández Leal
La Concepción

Teenagers practice salsa moves at the end of a striking, geometrical arbor.

Park It

Stop 6: Frida Kahlo Park

Just steps from the Plaza de la Conchita is Frida Kahlo Park. Here you’ll find a menagerie of topiary animals at the entrance and a fountain with a bronze sculpture of a nude woman with her legs drawn up, also by Ponzanelli. A group of teenagers was practicing salsa routines under an arbor of bougainvilleas.

Like the coyote fountain in Plaza Hidalgo, this woman was sculpted by Ponzanelli.

Wally loves Frida.

Is Diego jealous of Duke’s attention to Frida?

The park is a bit small in scale, but it’s worth stopping by to take a photo with the larger-than-life figures of Frida and Diego and to see the brightly colored mural by Dan Silva aka Polvoe, across the way on Tepalcatitla street.

The mascots of Coyoacán, as depicted by street artist Polvoe

A colorful mural across from Frida Kahlo Park caught our eye.

Fernández Leal and Avenida Pacifico
La Concepción

Coyoacán was easily one of our favorite places we visited in CDMX. You can see why this enchanting and storied part of the city has attracted artists and intellectuals over the years. –Duke

The Creepy Witch Market at Mercado Sonora

Head to the back left corner to enter a world of magic potions, Santeria, brujeria, voodoo dolls and Santa Muerte.

When you start seeing skeletons, you’ll know you’ve found the witch market.

Ever since Duke and I stumbled upon a witch market in a corner of the souk in Marrakech, Morocco, we’ve been addicted.

What’s a witch market, you ask? It’s sort of like a farmers market — only with a lot less local produce and more skulls and potions. Filled as they are with often disturbing items, witchcraft markets appeal to our warped sensibilities.

“We noticed a life-size skeleton wearing a wedding dress, a string of pearls around its neck and a tiara atop its skull.

We had found the witch market.”

Our Uber dropped us off at the sprawling Mercado Sonora in Mexico City in front of a line of yellow awnings. At first we wondered if we would even be able to find the section that contained the witch market. Stall after stall stretched out before us, filled with brightly colored, super-sized stuffed animals like those you hope your honey will win for you at a carnival. Some stalls had lights swirling like a discotheque and housed banners and other decorations that screamed, “¡Feliz Cumpliaños!” Women sat under large cutouts of Disney princesses, Mickey Mouse and superheroes. Piñatas hung from the ceiling. Men tried to tempt us with rows of technicolor candies.

The back right corner of the Sonora Market has live animals in cages.

As we wandered toward the far right-hand corner of the massive market, we started noticing a disturbing trend: This was where live animals were sold. We witnessed a young boy dump a cardboard box of full of puppies onto the floor and hastily put them into a cage near crates packed with birds, lizards, cats, rabbits and goats.

I stopped to take a picture of a cage full of mangy-looking puppies, but a man wagged his finger at me, saying, “No fotos” in a stern voice.

“I’m not surprised,” Duke mumbled. “He doesn’t want documentation of how inhumane this is.”

It really was quite depressing. So we were relieved when, as we moved to the left, still at the back of the market, we noticed a life-size skeleton wearing a wedding dress, a string of pearls around its neck and a tiara atop its skull.

We knew we were in the right place. We had found the witch market.

The Catholic church isn’t fond of Santa Muerte and has called her worship blasphemous.

Santa Muerte and Santería

The figure we happened upon is Santa Muerte, the goddess of death, a popular figure in Mexico. The stall took up a corner space, more of a small boutique. We looked around, seeing strings of beads, skeletons carved from bone (Duke still regrets not having bought one), candles in glass containers and a stone head with cowry shells for its eyes and mouth. I called Duke over. This last item was just the type of unexpected and slightly disturbing thing that he would love. We of course purchased it, for 100 pesos, or $5.

By the way, at markets in Mexico City, unlike those in Southeast Asia or Morocco, for instance, you’re not expected to bargain. The prices are set, but that’s OK, as you’ll find that most of them are quite reasonable.

The man who ran the stall was friendly, and grabbed a pen and paper when I asked him to write down what the head is called.

“Elegua,” he scribbled. I later found out he’s the god of beginnings and endings in Santería. He’s a bit of a trickster, which explains why I was so drawn to him.

Stalls filled with Catholic icons are side by side with ones selling Santería and brujeria totems.

We made our way through the labyrinth of stalls, surprised that they didn’t connect in any sort of logical manner. You would wind through a narrow space and then find yourself at a dead end, having to backtrack. The market was pretty crowded when we were there on a Sunday morning — “These are all the naughty people who should be in church,” I told Duke — and there was still a bit of jostling in the corridors as people stopped to look at goods or tried to pass by. Every now and then, a vendor would appear, carrying a stack of large boxes, and you’d have to press yourself against the wall to let them pass. It wasn’t long before Duke was feeling claustrophobic.

But I wasn’t done exploring this weird and wonderful market.

You can buy a baby Jesus in all sizes and skin colors.

Brujeria Meets Catholicism

What’s strange about brujeria, or Mexican witchcraft, is that it exists alongside Catholic beliefs. Whereas the mere whiff of something witchy prompts Christians in the United States to scream, “Satan!” Mexicans are much more sanguine. In the heart of the witch market, you’ll find statues of saints and baby Jesus dolls, Virgins of Guadalupe and crucifixes galore right next to the scythe-wielding Santa Muerte, looking like the Grim Reaper’s soulmate.

Santería and similar religions started amongst descendants of African slaves in the Caribbean.

Mexican Catholics don’t see any problem with mixing the worship of Jesus and the Virgin Mary with magic potions.

As we wandered down a narrow corridor, something caught my attention: what was obviously a Barbie doll, entirely covered in red ribbon with a few nails stuck into it. The vendor told me it was a voodoo doll, but an expensive one, he said, apologetically. You see, it cost 100 pesos, or a whopping $5. He showed me a package of smaller, cheaply made dolls, pointing out how much more affordable they were. But I naturally had to have the other one.

You’ll see quite a few of these creepy but artistic dolls hanging in stalls. They’re representations of Santería deities.

Here’s Lucero Mundo, god of the crossroads and bestower of spiritual power.

At stalls in the witchcraft market, creepy dolls hung on the wall, some with their eyes and mouths sewn shut. One that immediately appealed to me had its face painted half red, half black. Sage smoke from a burning smudge stick filled the dark corridor, making me a little lightheaded. The vendor appeared intimidating — an intense young man with long hair, numerous piercings, tattoos down his arms and triangular studs in his earlobes. But he turned out to be friendly and wrote down the name of the god represented by the red-and-blacked-faced doll: Lucero Mundo, or Light of the World. He’s a deity from Palo, a Santería-like religion that originated in Cuba amongst descendants from the Congo. A god of the crossroads, Lucero witnesses everything, and without his consent, no spiritual power will flow. He seems connected with the aforementioned Elegua.

Whether you want money or love, there’s a potion you can buy in the witch market.

Potions and Notions

Brightly colored bottles and boxes promised the solution to any problem. Got a crush? Spray some Ven a Mi (Come to Me). Want a successful small business? Spritz some Llama Cliente (Call Customers).

I’m not sure if you’re supposed to drink these potions, but I wouldn’t put those toxic-looking, neon-colored bottles to my lips no matter how desperate I was.

Head to the back left corner of the Mercado Sonora to find the witch market.

“I was thinking there’d be more desiccated animals,” Duke sighed. These are the types of things that disappoint us. But then, as if he had conjured it by sheer willpower, we almost walked right into some sort of flayed ball of fur, which looked more like a cross between roadkill and beef jerky. It was hardly recognizable as having once been a small animal. We have a taxidermied squirrel climbing our wall, a dried-out bat in our living room and a desiccated chameleon inside our glass-topped coffee table. But this macabre monstrosity was too much, even for us. –Wally

Nacimientos, or nativity scenes, galore

Mercado Sonora and the Witch Market
Fray Servando Teresa de Mier 419
Merced Balbuena
15810 Ciudad de México, CDMX
Mexico

Bali Then and Now

In the post-Eat Pray Love world, Bali has lost a bit of its charm. Ubud has become a more congested tourism hotspot, but parts of the island remain a paradise on Earth.

Bali then: Malcolm and Wally at Tirta Gangga’s lotus fountain in 2001

Bali now: The royal water garden has been renovated and is much more crowded

We had been planning the trip to Bali for half a year. And then, less than two weeks before we were set to leave, 9/11 rocked our world. The entire country was in a daze. Americans had been living in a  bubble of isolation, of false protection, thinking that our global actions wouldn’t have severe repercussions. And the idea of an attack on our own turf was incomprehensible. But then the World Trade Center towers fell, and that bubble popped horrifically and unexpectedly that morning in September.

The United States, so often a place of optimism, had turned utterly depressing. I eagerly grasped at the chance to escape the overwhelming malaise. “I’m still going to Bali,” I told my travel companions.

“I reserve the right to back out, even up to the last minute,” my friend Christina told me. It probably didn’t help that she was unnecessarily taking malaria pills at the time, which can induce paranoia as a side effect.

“We were able to flee a country at a desperate time, and instead explore a vibrant culture on a tropical isle halfway around the world.

Bali shimmers in my memory as a paradise on Earth.”

When the day came, Christina and her then-husband Malcolm joined me at O’Hare in Chicago. The airport had only recently reopened, and everyone still seemed scared to fly. The corridors were empty. I felt fatalistic, numb. It was difficult to care what happened, but I was willing to take the risk.

I decided to bleach my hair before our trip to Bali back in 2001. Here Malcolm and I tried posing as Dewi Sri, the goddess of rice

And here I am, 17 years later, back on Bali, this time making a point to visit the gorgeous Tegalalang Rice Terrace

What ended up happening was that we were able to flee a country at a desperate time, and instead explore a vibrant culture on a tropical isle halfway around the world. It was just what the doctor ordered, and I recall that trip, back in 2001, as one of the best of my life. Bali shimmers in my memory as a paradise on Earth.

So I was eager to share the magic of Bali with my husband, Duke. We had visited other parts of Southeast Asia, our favorite region on the planet, and I decided it was time I returned to Bali.

Here are some ruminations on my experiences on this one-of-a-kind Indonesian island 17 years ago and how it differed on our recent trip.

Bali then: We passed by the Saraswati Temple every time we left our hotel

Bali now: One thing hasn’t changed — the Saraswati Temple is still the centerpiece of Ubud

For one thing, the city of Ubud has grown exponentially. When I was here before, I remember it being a sleepy little town, with one main drag. We would wander into town in the morning, find a driver parked along the side of the road, negotiate a day rate and hop in. We would say, “Take us to a cool Hindu temple and an art village.” I don’t recall us ever having a set itinerary; we put ourselves entirely in our driver’s hands.

We did take some farther-afield trips, tourist attractions two hours or so away. Of course back then it might not have taken so long because the traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as it is now.

Traffic has gotten a lot worse on Bali, from motorbikes to construction vehicles

Speaking of traffic, there are certain stretches of the small winding two-lane roads where traffic becomes impassable. A lot of it has to do with the construction vehicles that are all over the place now as the city and the island itself gets built up more and more.

Last time, we stayed at cheap villas with hand-carved teak details for about $15 a night. This time, we went for a luxury resort

Beggars now plead for money in parts of Ubud. We didn’t see any homeless in the streets in Ubud on our trip 17 years ago. But there were plenty of signs of poverty in the small city of Kuta, which is popular with Aussie surfers. (This was part of reason I had zero desire to go back to Kuta on this trip. If you’re going to visit a tropical paradise, why surround yourself with the filth of a city?)

You don’t see a lot of people begging for money in Ubud, but we did see about 10 the five or so days we were there. In fact, one homeless woman was holding up her young daughter as she squatted over an open sewer grate to take a dump.

When we visited temples in 2001, there weren’t many other tourists, and locals would dress us in sarongs, sashes around our waists and headdresses

A lot of the handicraft items were no longer anywhere to be found. When I was here before, there were certain items that lined stalls in every market you visited but had, for some reason, vanished: shadow puppets, wooden frog instruments, blow dart guns, hand-carved chess sets, colorful kites in the shape of ships and the wavy ceremonial daggers called kris.

The only time I saw Western toilets on Bali in 2001 was at hotels (usually series of bare-bones but dirt-cheap villas). This sticker showing people how to use them — don’t squat right on the seat! — never failed to amuse me

Last time I was here, you literally only found Western toilets at your lodging. In fact, they had stickers on them to tell people who are unfamiliar that you shouldn’t squat on top of the seat. This time there was only one bathroom I went into where there was traditional Balinese toilet, which is really ceramic hole in the ground with treads for your feet. You “flush” your waste by dipping a plastic pot or bucket into the garbage can filled with water.

A Balinese cockfight from the late 1950s

When I visited last time, Ubud felt more like a traditional village. One afternoon we wandered behind a temple and stumbled upon a cockfight. We had heard about this popular pastime and stopped to watch. A group of men waved bills, placing bets on their favored bird.

Each contestant held his prized cock and tied triangular razor blades to the back of its leg, just above the talons. Everyone gathered in a circle, the roosters were released, and they flew at each other in a puff of dust. In the blink of any eye, one of the poor birds had fallen to the ground and lay there, dead.

It struck us as extremely anticlimactic. I imagined the roosters circling each other like boxers or sumo wrestlers, making parries and retreats. But no. It was over in about a second.

A man told us that we the rooster would be eaten as an offering at the temple. He said this almost apologetically, I imagined, to justify this violent pastime — though I probably imposed that sense of guilt upon him. To him, it was just a way of life. –Wally

“Everyone gathered in a circle, the roosters were released, and they flew at each other in a puff of dust.

In the blink of any eye, one of the poor birds had fallen to the ground and lay there, dead. ”

Weird Bali: 7 Crazy Balinese Customs

Cat poop coffee, temples of death and Balinese names are a few of the unusual aspects of Bali culture.

What makes islands so interesting is that they act as closed environments and often adopt their own distinct cultures. It’s curious that Bali is a Hindu island in the midst of the most populous Muslim nation in the world. Its unique religion permeates daily life.

Here’s a sampling of seven unusual things we observed or learned about on our trip to Bali.

“The passage of the beans through the civet’s digestive tract, pressed against their anal scent glands makes the resulting coffee to die for. ”

Kopi luwak, made from the excrement of a cute wild cat, has become a craze. But we recommend boycotting it

1. A popular coffee on Bali is made from animal poop — and it’s the most expensive coffee on Earth.

Known as kopi luwak, this is essentially coffee beans that have been eaten, digested and shat out by the palm civet, a cute animal that looks like a cross between a wild cat and a mongoose. You’ll see signs for kopi luwak all over Bali, and Duke and I were like, no thank you. The British couple next to us at dinner one night said they quite enjoyed it, though, that the beans were a honeyed color, that the coffee was smooth, and they’d have gotten some if it wasn’t so bloody expensive.

Many poor civets are kept in cages and mistreated to make sure there’s a steady supply of luwak coffee

Civets are shy, nocturnal creatures that roam coffee plantations at night, eating ripe coffee cherries. They can’t digest the pits, or beans, and poop them out. Somehow locals got it into their heads that the passage through the civet’s digestive tract, pressed against their anal scent glands, somehow makes the resulting coffee to die for.

One of the many places we were offered civet shit coffee. We declined each time

What’s sad, though, is that the novelty of kopi luwak has turned into a booming industry, with many coffee farms mistreating the animals. They “suffer greatly from the stress of being caged in proximity to other luwaks, and the unnatural emphasis on coffee cherries in their diet causes other health problems too; they fight among themselves, gnaw off their own legs, start passing blood in their scats, and frequently die,” writes Tony Wild, the man who blames himself for bringing the kopi luwak craze to the West, in The Guardian. Treating an animal like that is just crappy.

There’s a very good chance that half the people in this photo are named Wayan. Seriously!

2. All the kids have the same names, depending on their birth order.

As you become acquainted with more and more Balinese locals, you’ll notice something strange: They all seem to have the same name. And it’s not just that certain names are popular, like John and Jennifer in the States — there literally seem to be only a few names on the island to choose from. As bizarre as that seems, that is indeed the tradition on Bali.

In most cases, Balinese parents from the lower caste (that is to say, most of the population) give their children the same names, depending on their birth order — whether or not they’re boys or girls. Firstborns are named Wayan, Putu or Gede; the second-born is Made or Kadek; the third-born is Nyoman or Komang; and the fourth-born is Ketut. What happens if you have five kids? The cycle repeats itself, with the addition of Balik. So the fifth-born would be Waylan Balik, which basically means Waylan Returns.

You’ll meet tons of Wayans and Mades (this last one is pronounced Mah-deh), so how do people know who’s who? Most Balinese add a nickname or middle name. Our driver, for instance, was Made Ada.

Temples of death on Bali feature frightening statues out front

3. Every village has at least one temple of death.

Known as pura dalem, every village has at least one death temple, often located in the lowest part of town, facing the sea, which is considered the gateway to the underworld. Bodies are buried in the nearby cemetery, awaiting the purification of a cremation ceremony. Pura dalem, not surprisingly, are typically dedicated to the most gruesome gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon: Shiva the Destroyer, Kali, Durga or Rangda.

Many temples of death are dedicated to the demoness Rangda, who has a long tongue, droopy breasts, phallic dreadlocks and a fondness for eating babies

Monstrous demonic statues line the entrance — many featuring bulging bug eyes, fierce fangs and large, saggy breasts. Some hold innocent babies in their arms as they stand atop a pile of skulls. These serve as a vivid reminders of what awaits the wicked.

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LEARN MORE: Visit the temple of death in Ubud

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The only thing that would make Duke and Wally even more macho than these sarongs is if they had flowers behind their ears, too

4. Wearing a skirt and tucking a flower behind your ear is thought of as the epitome of masculinity.

At temples on Bali you have to wear a sarong, wrapping these bright cloths around your waist like a long skirt. When I first visited Bali almost two decades ago, I’d wear a sarong every day, and it was common to see local men doing the same. On this visit, though, we only saw one young man wearing a sarong in Ubud (and that’s why I approached him to be our driver for the week).

I’d also pluck a flower and put it behind my ear, having seen temple priests do so. When men on Bali would see me with my sarong and flower, they’d exclaim, “Look at you! You are so masculine!” Bali has got to be the only place on Earth where a man is considered macho for wearing what’s essentially a skirt and a flower behind his ear.

Newborns on Bali are so holy they aren’t allowed to crawl on the ground

5. Babies on Bali aren’t allowed to touch the ground for the first three months or so.

Being Hindus, Balinese believe in reincarnation — more specifically, newborns are thought to be the spirit of an ancestor returning to live another life. Because babies are still so close to the sacred realm they came from, they should be venerated. And in a culture where the ground represents all that is demonic and impure, that means newborns aren’t allowed to touch the earth for at least 105 days after birth, and up to 210 in some communities. That’s when the soul officially becomes a part of the child.

At this time, there’s a ceremony called nyabutan or nyambutin, where the baby’s hair is cut off and he or she touches the ground for the first time. It’s often at this time that the child is given its name.

You’ll be a total baller in Bali!

6. In Indonesian currency, you’ll be a multimillionaire.

Literally every time we hit the ATM, we got out the maximum amount: 1.5 million rupiah, which, at the time we visited, was only about $100.

We passed at least four Polo stores in Ubud — and they all seemed to be having a 70% off sale

Are these officially licensed Ralph Lauren stores? Probably not

7. There are Ralph Lauren Polo stores everywhere.

The preppy look is huge on Bali, at least among tourists. The island is lousy with Polo stores — though they might be of dubious affiliation with the brand. Walking through Ubud, we passed at least six Polo stores. Let the buyer beware: The online consensus is that these deals are too good to be true and are most likely knock-offs. –Wally

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RELATED: 5 Strange World Traditions

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Gaya Ceramic: Italy Meets Bali

If you’re interested in handmade pottery, stop in this charming Ubud boutique.

An Italian couple took their native country’s dedication to quality and paired it with Balinese craftsmanship

It's true, Wally and I have a shared fascination with folklore, history and handicrafts which ultimately drives most of our travel destinations, and is why we decided to stay in Ubud, the cultural heart of Bali. The island has a special energy all its own, but if you want to enjoy it and have only a few days, you may find that seeing everything you would like to on your itinerary is logistically impossible. However, one of the places I refused to cut was the Gaya Ceramic showroom.

“Gaya Ceramic has formed a perfect marriage of Italian design and Balinese craftsmanship.”

Stop by Gaya Ceramic to pick up some gifts for family and friends — and treat yourself while you’re at it

The boutique is located on Jalan Raya, the main thoroughfare that passes through the center of Ubud, in the village of Sayan. If you’re hiring a taxi or driver, make sure to let them know that it’s not the smaller branch of the road, as our driver took us to the Ceramic Arts Center by mistake. While this educational division with classes, workshops and a residency program for artists from around the globe is certainly interesting, I wanted to see the goods for sale at the shop.

The duo behind the craft are husband and wife Marcello Massoni and Michela Foppiani. Both passionate creatives who caught the attention of Gaya Fusion's director, Stefano Grande. After meeting with Stefano, they made the decision to move from Italy to Bali and established Gaya Ceramic. It should come as no surprise then, that their aesthetic is the perfect union of Italian design and Balinese craftsmanship.

One of the first things we noticed when we arrived at the showroom were exotic, climbing vines with pale lavender blooms. The dense growth framed and partially concealed the façade, lending the exterior an air of curiosity, as if letting you know you’re about to enter somewhere enchanting.

Marcello Massoni, the CEO of Gaya Ceramic, still throws the original prototype for each new piece

The Gaya Ceramic shop is like walking through an art exhibit

Inside, a rich, jewel-tone malachite green tile covers the floors. The boutique contains an array of luxurious, refined hand-crafted objects. Gaya’s designs include sculptural porcelain and lava sand mortar and pestles, to more elaborate ceramic coral wall art, bowls, plates and one of my personal favorites, “tattoo” vases embellished with a deconstructed pattern of twining cobalt blue chinoiserie flowers, all handmade in Bali.

What’s most impressive, though, is the relationship Marcello and Michela have fostered within the village of Sayan, where the company is based. Villagers who have mastered the intensive hands-on apprenticeship program have gone on to become fully vested employees, ensuring that these skills live on for generations to come.

Gaya makes up to 9,000 pieces a month!

Intricately patterned Raku ware pottery pieces are grouped together

A couple of the delightful employees who work at Gaya

Every element, from the wireless radio — they even have a Spotify playlist — to the small circular clay tokens with their logo stamped into them that adorn their shopping bags, has been thoughtfully considered.

Visit their showroom and take your time to admire the beauty of each piece. And if your suitcase isn’t big enough, they ship.

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Q&A with Marcello Massoni, owner of Gaya Ceramic

How has your cultural background been incorporated into Gaya?
We always put a bit of Italian flavor into our ceramics. The innovation and attention to detail that Italians are well known for is embedded in all our creations.

How has the culture of Bali influenced you?
Balinese culture helped us to reach a high level of craftsmanship and inspires us every day with its architecture, nature and ceremonies.

Tell about us your process. How does a lump of clay become a beautiful object?

All of our pieces begin their life in the studio. I still throw the original piece from which a prototype is made. For our hospitality projects, we custom create ceramic collections based on a client’s functional and aesthetic needs. We use different clays, glazes and diverse firing techniques (gas, raku, wood firings). All of our processes are handmade.

On average, how many pieces are produced per month?

Between 7,000 to 9,000.

Now for a few fun non-business related questions. What are a couple of your and Michela’s favorite local restaurants?  

Locavore or the restaurant at Bambu Indah.

Where’s the best place to get a cup of coffee?  

My house.

Favorite place to visit on Bali?

Pura Gunung Kawi or Geger Beach in Nusa Dua.

Best place to get gelato (and we know you’re biased)?

Gaya Gelato :)

Gaya Ceramic
Jalan Raya Satan No. 105
Sayan, Ubud
Bali, Indonesia 80571