Every morning, before the sun heats up the streets of St. Petersburg, the doors of Orlando Latin Market open once again.
Customers walk in looking for fresh bread, coffee, green plantains, cheese, seasonings, a sweet treat to remind them of childhood, or simply someone to greet them by name.
Behind the counter, there is almost always a smile, a conversation, a recommendation, or a “How is the family?”
What many do not realize is that this small Latin market is much more than a business. It is the result of decades of invisible sacrifices.
It is the story of a Dominican couple who arrived in the United States as mere teenagers. They worked in factories, cared for the elderly, and hauled boxes during endless shifts; they endured unfair wages and started over from scratch more than once — yet they never stopped believing that hard work would pave the way for their children to live a different reality.
For 20 years, Freddy and Damaris Castillo built a community within the aisles of their store, and their daughter decided to immortalize it.
Journalist Amaris Castillo — born in Brooklyn and now recognized for her work with outlets such as The New York Times, the Bradenton Herald, The Lowell Sun, and the Poynter Institute — has written her first book, “Bodega Stories.”
Its pages are rooted in the essence of a small Latin market, yet they speak of parental love, the weight of the immigrant experience, and the dignity born of daily hard work.
“I don’t know how to repay them for everything they did for me,” Amaris told CENTRO Tampa. She pauses, takes a breath, and continues.
“This book is part of that gratitude.” She speaks not only as a journalist but as a daughter — someone who grew up watching her parents rise before dawn to open a shop that often meant far more than just a source of income.
It was a place where newcomers could find products from their home countries, hear their native language, and feel a sense of belonging. Because a Latino bodega sells more than just groceries; it sells memories, too.
The price of the American dream
Freddy Castillo arrived in New York from the Dominican Republic when he was just 18. Damaris was around 15.
Like thousands of immigrants, they left behind their families, their customs, and the comfort of the familiar to start a completely new life. They met in Brooklyn, fell in love, married, and started a family.
Amaris was born in a vibrant city — one that was also scarred by violence and the drug trade during the 1990s. While their children grew up shielded from danger, her parents worked wherever they could find an opportunity.
He spent years behind the counter at various bodegas. She juggled factory jobs, elderly care, and other physically grueling work. It was never easy, but they never stopped moving forward.
Then came Sept. 11, 2001. Amaris was a freshman in high school in Manhattan when the attacks shook the United States. The tragedy changed the family’s trajectory.
The following year, they moved to Florida in search of peace and a fresh start. Yet, starting over meant facing uncertainty once again.
Freddy tried to open a supermarket with his brother, but the venture failed. He later worked in construction, but one day he came home with a crate of oranges instead of cash — all his employer had given him in lieu of the wages he was owed.
That scene remained forever etched in Amaris’s memory. Meanwhile, Damaris worked long shifts at Walmart; there were bills to pay, children growing up, and life had to go on.
As is the case for so many immigrant families, giving up was never an option.
A daughter writes so that the sacrifice is not forgotten
When Amaris was about to begin her studies at the University of South Florida, her parents once again bet on what they knew best and bought a small Latin supermarket in St. Petersburg.
The refrigeration units were worn out, stock was missing, and the business practically needed a fresh start; yet they rebuilt it day after day — without rest, without vacations, and without set schedules.
Two decades later, Orlando Latin Market remains open; it has become part of the city’s social fabric. In 2026, it was officially recognized by the city of St. Petersburg as a “Legacy Business,” a distinction reserved for businesses that have left a lasting mark on the community.
For Amaris, that recognition was much more than a certificate; it was confirmation that her parents’ sacrifices had been worth it.
The book that almost never happened
“Historias de Bodega” (Bodega Stories) actually began 11 years before its publication. In 2015, while working as a reporter for the Bradenton Herald, Amaris created a digital project by the same name to document the human stories unfolding inside Latino bodegas.
The project was put on hold as she built her career, got married, and started a family—until a single conversation changed everything.
While writing an article for the Poynter Institute about journalists who had published books, she interviewed an editor from the University Press of Florida. The editor discovered that old project and suggested turning it into a book.
Amaris hesitated; she was a mother of two and worked full-time—her life was already full of responsibilities.
But she realized that some opportunities come along only once. “If I didn’t write this book now, I would regret it for the rest of my life.” She accepted the challenge.
For a year, she returned to her parents’ store every weekend, interviewing employees and listening to customers who had been walking through the same door for decades, recording conversations, memories, anecdotes, and emotions.
She wasn’t just looking to write about a grocery store; she wanted to preserve a piece of the immigrant experience that rarely appears in history books.
Her parents’ reward
As Amaris wrote, Damaris watched her daughter’s efforts with concern.
“I kept asking her why she didn’t wait five years to do the book. She works 40 hours a week, has two children and a house — but she finished it.”
And when the book was published, pride replaced any worry. Damaris remembers her daughter writing stories when she was just 9 years old.
She had sewn the pages together with a needle herself and drawn the illustrations; that little book ended up winning a medal and being displayed in a school museum in Manhattan. Today, she smiles to see that childhood dream become a reality. However, when asked what message she has for immigrant families just starting out, she doesn’t speak of awards or accolades; she speaks of perseverance.
“You have to be dedicated. We’ve been working for 40 years. We’ve had good times and bad, but we never stopped moving forward. With persistence, you eventually see the fruits of your labor.”