When we told our taxi driver to take us to the Mina Fruit and Vegetables Market, he smiled and knew exactly where to go. He dropped us at the back of the Al Mina Fish Market and we stepped out into the sweltering Friday afternoon. The Abu Dhabi humidity was doing wonders for our hair, making it frizzier than ever before in a matter of minutes. Thankfully, we did not suffer for long and quickly made our way into the market, welcoming the shaded surroundings.

The first few large stalls of the market were mostly comprised of fruit sellers. They had a diverse collection of fruits from various countries with gigantic refrigerators hidden in the back. Our first inclination was to rush towards the fresh coconuts to hydrate ourselves in the scorching heat. One fruit seller immediately noticed us looking towards the coconuts, and came forward to greet us.

He told us that the coconuts were from Thailand and each one cost eight AED, but that he would give us two for 15 AED. When we took a sip of the fresh coconut juice, we both agreed that it was one of the best juices we’ve had in the UAE. He invited us to his roomy refrigerator in the back to look at more fruits. We were both amazed by the range of fruits that surrounded us and bought some strawberries, bananas and kiwis for very affordable prices.

Later, another fruit seller from the same stall joined him, and told us that they also had chikoos (sapodillas). While one of us gave him a confused look, the other let out an instant squeak of joy. It was from our respective reactions to chikoos that Rehman and Asif, the two fruit sellers, found out where we were from.

Rehman pointed at one of us and told Asif that this one must be from Pakistan if she has no idea about the pleasures of a chikoo. Both of them then directed their attention to the other one of us to sell their famed fruit.

We then walked to another to stall to look for fresh apples. A stall belonging to an old man in a white kandura caught our attention. He saw us looking and smiled gently at us, beckoning us to come to his stall. “Toufaha, sabah dirham,” he first said in Arabic; seeing our befuddled expressions, he tried again in Urdu: “Apple, Sirf saath dirham.” We were surprised that his Urdu, though slightly accented, was absolutely correct. We asked him where he was from and he said Iran. He introduced himself as Hamza. When we told him our names, he thought they were beautiful just like the name of his hometown, Shiraz. He let us take his picture and was eager to show off his fruits, quickly picking up the best watermelon and standing with it. After making sure he was satisfied with the picture, we left with a smile, some free apples and a juicebox that he kindly offered us.

In the vegetables section of the market, we encountered Abdul, a kind Bangladeshi man who was happy to answer our questions. We asked what his favourite time at the market was and he told us it was when the market is at it’s busiest — in the evenings when the light bulbs shine over the produce and rows of cars line the streets outside the market.

We heard a small van stop by and many sellers rushed towards the van, leaving their stalls vacant. We asked one of the vegetable sellers what was going on and he told us that free biryani was distributed after Friday prayers. The excitement amongst the fruit and vegetable sellers was contagious, and we sat down for a while to observe and take in everything that was going on in the hustle bustle of the market.

On our way back, we stopped by one of the last stalls in search of some grapes. We approached a seller, and before we could say anything he told us that he had seen one of us before. “Not you, her,” he said, gesturing at one of us. “What, no way! I haven’t been here in years!” she said.

We soon discovered that it wasn’t only a trade of fruits and vegetables that took place in this market but also a trade of stories, ideas and hopes. The market is no longer as popular as it once was, but it still exhibits a sense of nostalgia about a part of city that we are so keen to leave behind. The fruit and vegetable sellers in the market not only remember you but will also run to find a cab for you, if you just ask nicely enough.