Markets

I get markets when they serve a real purpose - which in my mind is when the goods or services would sell anyway, and the market just provide the system.

So the ASX works as a market. I get growers markets. I don't get markets at tacky tourist locations: no-one wakes up in the morning and thinks they need a mosquito coil holder built entirely of spoons and forks; or spray painted "art" of space age kangaroos crossing the harbour bridge being chased by koalas; or a cheap, incomplete Peruvian chess seat; or a broken clock; or a scarf. Yet most markets provide a place to buy and sell these - and so people do!

Hence my apprehension whenever someone in our family suggests we go to the markets. However, I can confess to being a fan of the Craponne markets. Yes, Craponne - I'm sure there's a beautiful French way of pronouncing it, however I'm sticking with the phonetic pronunciation.

Stall after stall of amazing fruit and vegetables: the strawberries (fraise) we purchased almost tasted of lollies they were so sweet; the raspberries (frambroises) melt in your mouth; tomatoes so rich and delicious that tomato paste isn't even an option in recipes. And stone-fruit that (apparently) the Queen of England gets sent directly to her. Or maybe it was the raspberries. Doesn't matter.

And it's no wonder the fruit in the markets is good - it's everywhere, and from what we've seen it's all good. Em and Hannah went on a little exploration this afternoon across the road to collect whatever the fruit were on the tree. Apricot like (although I don't actually know what fruit), they were amazing. And the blackberries that line every road in our little village (causing a few scratched ankles) are pretty good too!

Back to the market; fromage of all different varieties and flavours. Hard, soft; goat, cow; delicate, strong; incredible, amazing. Even when Abby's not eating, she'll tackle a little bit of soft French cheese. Despite being a regular addition (and sometimes at lunch a focus) of the meal, we still haven't sampled enough French cheese.

By now I was pretty impressed with markets. I was initially sceptical of the meat stalls - but even they were tempting. It's rare that I have a good thing to say about sausages, but a subsequent meal has proven that the Lyonaise saussage is indeed pretty tasty! And the "cooked chook" (I struggled with the French equivalent of this one) was amazing - better than I would hope from Portugal, the home of chicken.

And then I came across the guy standing next to 3 queen sized matresses. Why? It's this sort of vendor that gives markets a bad name. No-one (sane) wanting a matress would think: "I know, the Craponne markets have a great selection, with prices that can't be beaten." Equally, when was the last time you impulse purchased an ensemble?

Nevertheless, we'll be heading back. If not to Craponne, then to one of the other many villages throughout the region holding regular markets - possibly with more marketable township names. The food in the local supermarket is a step above the equivalent fresh food people in Australia, however it's not a patch on the markets.

The Craponne market was also a good opportunity to flex our conversational French. "Bonjour; Visa? Merci; Au Revoir" had been the extent of our conversations at supermarkets. However at markets the more fluent amongst us (Em) engaged in a reparte around the best potatoes for salads, as distinct from those for sauteing. While Em's French is more than acceptable (for what we need) and allows her to engage in mixed English / French conversations with some success, mine is (predictably) poor. Our current neighbours (English, but fluent french speakers) brought round some cooked fish for us to try for dinner - I called out some time later (rather proudly) "poisson: tres bon" and was met with "nice accent".

In addition to her pre-trip counting, Hannah can generally be coaxed into an "au revoir" or "merci". She obviously recognised that there was a different language (she thought the two loud speakers on train were probabably 1 for French, and 1 for English), however this evening when playing with Em rolled out "A bientot" unprompted. I give myself 2 more weeks at best of being the 2nd best speaker in the family.

Em remains the undisputed winner of the French langauge skills however. Today, due to the 38ish degrees, we decided to eat ice-creams in a little park; and of course there was a game of petanque / boules underway. (As an aside, why is 10 old French people, playing boules, with quite a few bottles of red wine romantic, whereas 10 old Aussie blokes, playing bowls over a few schooners of VB just not as classy?). After a while one of the players approached and launched into a French monologue. Eventually Em had to stop him, but she'd followed enough to know there was an issue with dog poo in the park - and to just be aware of the kids running around. Once it was established we were Australian, there was even a delicate cultural exchange around the proper word for dog "merde". Very impressive :-)

And more photos below (for those that missed it last time, click on the image below for even more photos!)

Markets