Every Saturdays I visit his stall, I buy whatever gorgeous celery or mache he has on display. It is never a quick affair. A brief glance at my watch and I take my space in the queue . I look at his hands. Big hands with half a finger missing. I watch him cut a cabbage with this rustic looking knife…probably the same one that cut his finger off all those years ago. His movements are slow and elegant, I am trying to guess his age, probably 80, his skin is thick like leather. He is now using an old fashion slate and chalk to add up . I should be looking at my watch, I should get the urge to leave but I stay enchanted and sad at the same time. When he stops, when it suddenly becomes too much for him I wonder who will be replacing him if anybody…
sylvied, November 12th 2007 |
Tags: old market stall holder in La Rochelle
Posted in France, La Rochelle, La Rochelle market, french markets, market
I am flying back to La Rochelle tomorrow after spending nearly a week in UK. These little babies up there are waiting for
me…or rather my body is crying out for them! After a regime of never ending take aways my system is finally giving up. I
feel like a bloated zombie and have just had my first cold in a year! Back to oysters, good wine and fish…and may be even
sunshine!
sylvied, July 17th 2007 |
Posted in France, food, french markets
One of the best things about La Rochelle is the market! Not only for the food but for the sheer amount of characters that you get to talk to. Going to the market is a lot more than buying food for the week-end. When you are queuing you will find yourself involved with a variety of topics ranging from suppositories or les hemorrhoids de Bertrand…you are that close to people that you feel rude not to get amongst it all! It is great you’re buying your grapes and minding your own business and the lady behind you is discussing hemorrhoids…I become almost paranoid! Sorry I am totally off track here, back to my sardines!
So I was entering the fish mall when I felt under the spelt of a lady fish monger… She is blonde, painted over eyebrows and a mouth full of stories. Remember my lovely inquisitive 8 years old? He is there too. She throws in my sardines a couple of freebies for “le drole” and explains that “drole” in Charente means child but she quickly points out that in South Of France it means “pute” and laughes out loud from deep inside her throat…
I am laughing of course but suddenly remember him….big eyes, big ears aerials fully extended
“C’ est quoi une pute?”
sylvied, May 3rd 2007 |
Posted in France, La Rochelle, french markets, kids
