No surprises here, this girl loves her markets. From the big time fleas to the local, weekend farmer's markets, whether I'm on the hunt for something or not, if there's a stall to be perused or a stack to be sorted through, sign me up. So naturally, when I discovered that the plan for last week was to align our day trips to the little medieval towns of Southern France with their scheduled weekday marchés, I was one happy camper. And holy moly-- It. Was. Wonderful.
The vibrant colors of the fresh fruits & veggies set against the patterns of the Provencal linen; the intoxicating smells of roasted tomato and paella mixed with a
hint of fragrant soaps from across the way; the sound of the butcher's
knife hitting the cutting board and the constant buzz of locals
bartering down the prices of their wares-- there was so much to savor
and absorb. I could have wandered those endless cobblestone streets forever and still not captured or seen it all, but I did my best to soak up every second that I possibly could.
Oh, for the love of god-- my mouth starts to water just looking at it all. It's not too soon to go back, is it?
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