The Piraeus flea market, held every Sunday morning by the metro station, is the gritty alternative to Monastiraki’s famous swap meet. The market, which stretches back parallel with the train line for as far as the eye can see, is bursting with stalls and people from 8am till 2pm.

The stalls are a curious assortment: some are large and well-ordered with plastic coverings to shield purchasers from the hot sun, while others are just piles in the street, distinguishable from rubbish only by the attached price tags. There are even wandering stallholders with trays full of glue tubes or large wooden poles covered with lottery tickets. This offers an immediate difference to its Monastiraki counterpart, where vendors often plug typical tourist fare that is continuously on sale in Plaka, sometimes straight from their shops.

As you cruise the narrow space between stalls, everyone seems to be yelling, from the stallholders perched on top of their tables shouting “Ella! Ella!” [Come! Come!] to the customers demanding a discount, and shouts are often interspersed with hands being slammed on tables. You’re not likely to see tourists being teased to buy evil eye pendants in Piraeus; rather, here you are jostled and ignored unless you have your hand firmly on the prize and wave your money in the vendor’s face. Every man for himself.

If you head for the market with ideas about priceless antiques or secondhand treasures, then you are likely to be disappointed. The vast majority of traders sell new products, many of which are the knock-off designer bags and sunglasses that litter every roadside in central Athens. However, many more offer a large variety of clothes and shoes at bargain prices: a fact easily surmised by the crowds of shoppers trawling through piles of Snoopy pants and elbowing each other out of the way.

Further down the row is a general household area, with frying pans dangling from strings, spoons glinting in the sunshine and large women sitting plonked in the middle of their colourful bedspreads. This is certainly a functional market, with families out buying their weekly supplies rather than tourists browsing overpriced jewellery stands.

Among the colourful T-shirts and sandals is the occasional glimmer of the romantic flea market, like a small old man slumped behind a rickety table laden with old coins and stamps. Even more enchanting are the surprises lurking down sidestreets, where some sellers appear to have emptied the contents of their house or taken their car apart and piled it all up in the road.

If you brave it through to the end, there is a minivan in which a woman sells soft drinks and snacks, with pictures for non-Greek speakers. There is also a man with a transportable grill who tends his lamb kebabs with a miniature hairdryer, as well as a few fruit stalls selling bruised and battered pineapples. Gritty? Perhaps. But also a much more enticing and curious experience than squeaky-clean Monastiraki and even some bargains if you’re willing to tackle the crowds.

As originally seen on: www.homeboy.gr