Consider me dead and gone to heaven. We went to the market today, a once-a-week, open-air farmer’s market in the centre ville, which has been running every Thursday since the 13th century. Wow. I have no idea why GB even bothers living in Portland. I sure wouldn’t. It’s hard to imagine a place more perfect for me than this village, and I haven’t even been here two days. When I got back from the market and sat down to eat my lunch, I felt for sure like this was the beginning of something I’ll do again and again. I really hope life can deliver that dream for me. This is truly a fantastic trip already.
The market is ridiculous. It’s somewhat like our farmers markets back home, but way more advanced. This is a small village of 2,000 people, yet there were several different cheese vendors, fish vendors, meat vendors, bread vendors, and all manner of vegetable vendors. Plus clothes, wine, hot food, and jewelry. Then random odds and ends like a candy vendor, olive guy, and soap lady. It was lively with tourists and locals alike.
GB says many French people also take their holidays here. I heard lots of French spoken, but also some English (as in British). And the vendors tried to speak with me in English, even though I want (and am trying) to speak in French. It is clearly a tourist town in summer, but feels relaxed and not obnoxious at all.
We looped around the market a couple of times before diving in for purchases. We bought a rotisserie poulet (chicken), a local vin rouge, fromage from this region (chevre and a tomme wedge), haricot verts, local green prunes (the French word for plums – these look to me like green gages), pruneaux (dried plums/prunes), tomates, cuke, basilic, and ail. That will give you a chance to learn some French with me.
GB went for un cafe with her friends and I walked back to the house (literally steps from the square). I made a lunch of salad, rotisserie chicken, chevre, olives, and vin rouge. I can see why French women don’t get fat if this is how they are fortunate enough to eat all the time. We just don’t have this level of neighborhood farmer’s markets this often each week in the States, even in our best city for it, Portland (in my humble opinion).
I ran up to the library to try to use the internet before they closed (at 12:30!), but their internet connection is down, and may be down tomorrow as well. Seems the internet may be like spotting Sasquatch here. I’ll just have to keep trying.
Now I’m sitting out on the terrace enjoying the hot, dry weather and the amazing view from here of the Lot river valley. There are many pigeons and swallows in the village, which have been fun to watch and listen to. There are nests outside my bedroom window.
Next up, a nap through the hottest hours of the day.