Life: Idiotropic

Some experiences are best savored in the company of a good friend, so this morning, leaving Kirk and the girls (fabulous travel companions, but a cumbersome lot) behind to enjoy a lazy morning, Mom and I took off to see a neighborhood market I'd heard about from none other than the elementary school principal.

Our Saturday morning was brisk, but clear and we'd been given carte blanch from Kirk who told us to enjoy the time and not worry about sticking to a schedule. Perfect. From our living room window we could see the meat vendor set up -- the first of a line of awnings that stretched for blocks down the sidewalk on Rue de la Glaciere. Not to miss anything, we went there first. Among the meats sat a large pan steaming hot from the heat below heaped high with sauerkraut with strips of bacon and a few sausages steaming on top. The cheese sellers were enough to convince me to move to Paris forever. Oh, you name the cheese, it was there - well, at least the good ones. And cheeses with nuts and others with herbs and some with bits of dried fruit. A day alone could have easily been spend smelling, photographing, and tasting each little piece of beautiful cheese so perfectly formed, it was art. The fruit and vegetables were beautiful too - I think markets just make things look nice.

Really, I love markets. It's not the shopping as I rarely purchase much, but markets in the places I've been seem to be the heartbeat of a place. It's local. It's day to day life. And there, you can learn a little more about the culture of the people who live there.

The Christmas trees were not sold as we've seen them ready to be put into a stand - but here, they're already in a stand of sorts. A log is cut in half lengthwise so that the bottom is flat and the top is the arched half of the stump. Then a hole in the center is cut to the width of the tree trunk which is then put into the stump stand. It is simple, natural, and beautiful. Our smile of the morning was watching an elderly lady who had purchased a small tree try to put it into her small wheeled shopping bag. She and the seller tried for several minutes, but finally gave up and just strapped it to the outside.

I always enjoy the olive and dried fruit vendors. This one had beautiful baklava and figs still on their branches - something that I'd never seen before. The flowers were beautiful too. So, I opted for a nice floral basket with a small flocked pine, some holly, and hyasinth bulbs as a substitute for a tree since we were staying in an apartment for the holiday. (and yes, mom, some of the plants are still alive 7 weeks later - though not by much!)

On the way back towards the apartment where we had to stop to drop off my plant, we passed a very thin, but very friendly man wearing a Santa Claus suit at the market and selling inexpensive toys. He asked us where we were from, then stood talking to us for a few minutes telling us how much he loved Americans and America. It was nice. So often we only hear the negative. It really felt good to hear the positive... but then, that's what I've gotten most in France. The French people really are very warm overall.

From this market we took the green line from La Glaciere to Place d' Italia where we saw quite a few homeless still sleeping on the metro benches as we waited for our train even though it was almost 10. We transferred there to the pink line and got off at Place Monge. A short walk and we were on the infamous Rue Mouffetard. Famous for it's market, this street is one of the oldest in Paris - part of the original Roman road via Lyon. It's narrow (wouldn't want to drive it, but people do drive on the upper half - the bottom is a pedestrian only zone) at only 18 feet wide, but full of character.


The first thing I noticed was not one, but two fondue restaurants sitting opposite each other -both very inviting. Not knowing which direction to go, we first walked up the street a ways looking inside many cute boutiques picking up things and saying, "we'll come back here later when we stop for lunch." Bubbles are in. Short swing coats with bubbled sleeves, bubbled collars, and bubbled bottoms. In all colors, the warm wool coats came in mid lengths and short. Tops did the same - flaring out and bubbling. Cute. It was all I could do not to buy a few. The prices (if you didn't think too hard on the Euro conversion rate) were really quite reasonable. In fact, if we lived there and got paid in local currency, I think I'd shop there for clothes quite frequently. (Clothes and cheese, chocolate and cheese, a duck and cheese...)

Every facade talked. I mean, those buildings didn't just sit there. You couldn't walk past them without noticing them, taking in the details, and pausing, almost as if waiting for the building to say something. Sometimes I wish these buildings were set up like children's museum exhibits with a large button on the side so I could run up and push it and wait for the commentary to run... "... in 1234 a flamboyant French hat maker married the butcher's daughter and moved to this home where he expanded his business to make headware for the butcher's livestalk during the big freeze of '35..." Ok... I'm sure the building would say something better. It's late and my imagination is pretty shot at this hour. Besides, history is almost always more phenomenal and tawdry.

When the buildings started to look too normal, we turned around and went the other direction figuring that the market would be somewhere more interesting. That, and we, being women, stopped and asked directions from a young and quite handsome Frenchman who, to our great fortune, spoke English beautifully and was very friendly and willing to help.

The market at the Rue Mouffetard is not the traditional market in the sense that things are not brought to that location in a temporary setting. Unlike the market in Sittard and other markets whose large centralized squares are empty spaces on non-market days with vendors setting themselves up with folding tables and temporary awnings one or two special days each week, on this street, the shops established there allow themselves to spill out onto the busy street creating a sort of open market for the locals who shop there and the tourists who come to gawk at the chocolates, cheeses, and hanging ducks. Only at the very end, in front of old church, can you find just a couple produce stands set up on rickety tables and awnings with no permanent structure to shelter them.

So, it begins, in all it's glorious deliciousness, with the cheese shop. Can you tell I'm totally entranced by good cheese? And I don't even eat that much cheese! But this is special and oh, so tempting! Goat cheeses everywhere and bries and camenberts... nuts and fruits and peppers... oh my! The fois gras shop stood across the street with a glossy poster of a goosely gaggle on the window. I get it, but really. I don't want a photo of a beautiful cow batting it's big beautiful eyes on my ground beef package, so a photo of a goose running around a field doesn't help sell the idea of goose liver pate which is too sweet and rich for my taste anyway.

The next was the wine shop where we lingered a bit... mom shopping and me just people watching. Eventually I did have to break down and taste the champagne. Mmmmm... nothing to complain about there. So far I have yet to taste a bad French wine while in France. Once customer had tied her little dog there and the boys who were working there kept talking to him and watching out for him. It was very sweet. Saw some Spanish tourists tasting wines too - those Spanish are everywhere! (In London there was a day I heard Spanish more than English!)

The fish shop was fun - colorful and exotic. Two chocolate shops got my attention though I didn't actually buy anything (what is wrong with me????). Now I can't for the life of me figure out why I didn't even get a small truffle to sample. It all looked amazingly delicious and the girls working in the shop were friendly and helpful. Christmas time in France and I didn't buy chocolate... really. I must get my head examined.

The most shocking and interesting shops were the meat shops where whole geese, ducks, and roosters hung above the counters with their feathered heads still quite attached. I took a photo of one particular batch, then, noticing me, the man behind the counter took the duck's head and turned it up to look at me for another photo, which I should have taken, but didn't. It was a funny moment though - a glimpse of the French humor which we actually saw quite a bit of this trip. And, it eased my bit of worry that I was bothering these people with my obnoxious picture taking. I suppose they are used to it and probably get as many giggles from us silly tourists taking pictures of ducks and cheese as we do looking at those things. I mean really... I would have to laugh if someone walked into a Walmart back home and started taking pictures of the deli counter. It would be odd.


Anyway... one shop had enormous rabbits too - truly. Giant rabbits the size of medium dogs hanging by the feet still furry and cute. (And not nearly as morbid as the fully skinned rabbits in Spain recognizable only by their large teeth)

At the end of the market portion of the Rue, a very small square filled with fruit and vegetable vendors sat in front of this pretty little white church which stands now simple and peaceful despite it's rather odd history. Older than the Parisian Notre Dame, it was the scene of some hysteria in the 1700's. Across from this church is an amazing building with an intricately painted facade.

When exhausted by marketing, we walked back up to one of the little fondue places that we'd stopped at before. There were many that looked good, but this one had a cow outside that made us pause to talk to the staff the first time we walked by there asking them if they were open. They were so friendly that we went back.

We both had fondue thick and greasy, stringy and full of flavor, coating our buttery potatoes, slices of Ardenne ham (sliced super thin like prosciutto), and chunky bread. Chased down with good French wine. Ahhh. Mmmmm. Conversation halted for a moment - a clear sign that the food was not served to be discussed, but eaten.








For dessert, I enjoyed a dense, and quite intense, creme brulee and a cappuccino
I took a couple photos inside while we were there - not a lot, but enough to remember the place with it's vintage advertisements on the walls and the red stoneware fondue pots on every table.. One of the men working there led me to the back of the restaurant before I left to show me the courtyard there decorated with Christmas trees and potted plants.

At the end of our lunch, we slooooooowly walked back the the Metro line that would take us back to Glaciere, stopping in each and every inviting shop on our way, touching this fabric and that, trying on hats, and dreaming of our return to Mouffetard and all that we'd get there.

Looking back on our colorful morning at the markets, I must show you these two photos... one, a vintage style advert for a bowling alley took me quite by surprise. It's not something I'd expect to see here of all places, but upon seeing this, I did turn my head to the right to see, tucked in the back of a indoor center, another sign for the bowling alley inside.

The other delight was closer to the church when I was coming out of an alley with the most beautiful flower shop hidden inside... in front of me was le Marche Franprix. Not a store that stood out in anyway except for the three gentlemen sitting on the steps in front of it. One played an accordian and as we were walking away, the other two began to sing. It was a simple thing, but very beautiful - three friends enjoying a Saturday afternoon playing music in their neighborhood.