Au marchè

Au Bar du Marchè

A present for a friend

All over France every little town and village has its' weekly market. Today was market day for us. We both love going to the market. My husband likes to sit at Le Bar Marchè under the plane trees while I walk through the market looking for presents to take home. The mistral was blowing gently among the stalls transporting the exotic smells from the spice stall and mingling them with those of the Paella being prepared in an enormous black pan. There is always the ubiquitous lavender pervading the air and the salty smell of the sea. I stopped to admire some brightly coloured beach dresses and was soon engrossed in conversation with the stallholder . She told me that she had just written a book all about her family's life as immigrants. She showed me faded photos of her grandparents and parents in their remote lonely village of origin where there was no work and nothing to eat. There was a photo of her sitting with her mother. They had all emigrated from Naples to France .She showed me her book, all ready to be published. As I looked through it, at the family photos, the isolated village in the barren countryside I saw a chunk of history. As I left she clutched the book to her and with tears in her eyes she told me, her voice heavy with emotion ' C'est ma vie! C'est toute ma vie' We swapped numbers and I wrote down the title of her book. Anna et Annou, L'enfant muette de silence'. I think it will be worth reading.

When I arrived at the bar Marchè, I showed my husband the t- shirt I'd got him. The man at the next table told us he wanted one like it and where had I got it! I was surprised. I'm not renowned for my excellent taste. Then came the marvellous moment we had both been waiting for'Un Ricard et une citron pressè, s'il vous plait!'