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lagilmanThis morning, despite the weather NOT being the sunshine promised by WeatherUnderground, I finally got to the Wazemmes market.
Imagine; if you will; a great indoor food market inside a long brick building, surrounded outside by rows upon rows of intermingled produce and flower vendors, and lapped around the edges by a flea market covering everything from undies to carpets to teapots to knockoff handbags that made me wish![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dianora2 was there, and ringed round all that by cafes and boulangeries and marché aux épices. And fill that market not only with workers calling out in French and Arabic; but shoppers of all ages and shapes and intents, elbow to elbow, pulling little shopping carts familiar to the resident of any largeish urban city.
And then imagine that this is the 'quiet' day. (Sunday, I'm told, it gets really crazy) The local cops were there, checking permits and looking menacing. Okay, the leader, a tallish blonde, looked menacing. The boys trailing after her, smoking and chattering, looked about as scary as ducklings.
I came away with some Moroccan spices, a few bits of bread, my first croissant of the trip (no, really), and a pastry that is even now calling my name. I did NOT come away with any skate, or lapin, although both looked really tempting. I need to find a consistent and not outrageously expensive source of lapin back home. And hush; any of you going awwww. I've seen you eat lamb.
Out of consideration for those of you with delicate sensibilities, I did not take photos of the massive pig's head on display, not the yards of tripe. I did take a few shots of the fishmongers and the clearly-recognizable bodies of poor wee bunnies, though. There was no boucherie cheval here, unlike Dijon - if anyone needs to see that, the photos are at my flickr page, under "Burgundy."
And I have started compiling a list of Things I Have Learned By Going Somewhere Else.
- if you keep wandering with a vague idea of where you want to go, and refuse to get upset; you will eventually get there. (during the day, anyway)
- always carry a cook's phrasebook. You may know what to avoid on the table, but it might be called something else entirely in the market.
- don't say eww until you've tried it. And then try not to say eww, even if you have to discretely spit it out into a napkin.
- hand gestures really can stand in for a lot of words in any language.
- never ever screw with the local cops. Don't even look like you might be considering screwing with them. In fact, don't smile at them either, unless they smile first.
- it's never a bad idea to sit down and order a cup of coffee (or tea, depending on local customs and personal preferences)
.... anyone got any additions?
Imagine; if you will; a great indoor food market inside a long brick building, surrounded outside by rows upon rows of intermingled produce and flower vendors, and lapped around the edges by a flea market covering everything from undies to carpets to teapots to knockoff handbags that made me wish
dianora2 was there, and ringed round all that by cafes and boulangeries and marché aux épices. And fill that market not only with workers calling out in French and Arabic; but shoppers of all ages and shapes and intents, elbow to elbow, pulling little shopping carts familiar to the resident of any largeish urban city.And then imagine that this is the 'quiet' day. (Sunday, I'm told, it gets really crazy) The local cops were there, checking permits and looking menacing. Okay, the leader, a tallish blonde, looked menacing. The boys trailing after her, smoking and chattering, looked about as scary as ducklings.
I came away with some Moroccan spices, a few bits of bread, my first croissant of the trip (no, really), and a pastry that is even now calling my name. I did NOT come away with any skate, or lapin, although both looked really tempting. I need to find a consistent and not outrageously expensive source of lapin back home. And hush; any of you going awwww. I've seen you eat lamb.
Out of consideration for those of you with delicate sensibilities, I did not take photos of the massive pig's head on display, not the yards of tripe. I did take a few shots of the fishmongers and the clearly-recognizable bodies of poor wee bunnies, though. There was no boucherie cheval here, unlike Dijon - if anyone needs to see that, the photos are at my flickr page, under "Burgundy."
And I have started compiling a list of Things I Have Learned By Going Somewhere Else.
- if you keep wandering with a vague idea of where you want to go, and refuse to get upset; you will eventually get there. (during the day, anyway)
- always carry a cook's phrasebook. You may know what to avoid on the table, but it might be called something else entirely in the market.
- don't say eww until you've tried it. And then try not to say eww, even if you have to discretely spit it out into a napkin.
- hand gestures really can stand in for a lot of words in any language.
- never ever screw with the local cops. Don't even look like you might be considering screwing with them. In fact, don't smile at them either, unless they smile first.
- it's never a bad idea to sit down and order a cup of coffee (or tea, depending on local customs and personal preferences)
.... anyone got any additions?
