Back from the market and I am beaming.
Whether because of the cold winter weather or waking up after 1pm following a late night out, I haven’t made it to the marché in months. So I made it my personal goal to get there this morning, and boy am I glad I did.
One of Lyon’s greatest attractions are its many outdoor farmers’ markets. Practically every quartier or arrondissement has one (some bigger than others; the one on Quai Saint-Antoine, for example, is one of the biggest, spanning nearly a kilometer along the Saône), and they consist of (sometimes hundreds of) vendors selling everything from fresh produce, cheese, and meat, to flowers, soap, clothes, and an assortment of random trinkets.
What a great tradition and an awesome way to spend the morning. I walked up and down the market closest to me – the one along the Rhône just after Pont de la Guillotière – bought my share of vegetables, fresh cheese, and half a poulet rôti (rotisserie chicken), listened in on people talking about their weekends, and wished everyone I interacted with a bon dimanche (good Sunday). My hands full of bags, I made my way home along the berges, stopping every now and then to take pictures of this beautiful city, and eating the still-warm strawberry muffin I bought from one of the market’s many pâtissiers (bakers).
And now here I am, sitting in my kitchen, a slight breeze drifting in through the open window, the almost-March sun shining brightly on these yellow walls around me. Just made a delicious lunch out of my market goodies and am thinking about heading to Place Bellecour to read and people-watch.
Life is good and I never want to leave this place.
(poivron rouge et aubergine sautés avec huile d'olive, sel, sucre, et épices mexicaines)
(poulet rôti)
(sesame baguette)
(dessert)
Your stories make me want to live in France too!
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