I never feel like going to the marché on Saturday morning. (It's across from the fashion museum, left.) I'm very lazy and like to sleep in (la grasse matinée).
But it always ends up being fun. Today I saw one of my nicest
neighbors (in fur coat and Jaguar: I now know that is a sign that she
doesn't quite belong; in fact she is Italian) and also a bunch of nice commerçants who have known me for years. But even the ones I don't know are fun. "Allez,allez mesdames, les plus belles dames viennent chez moi!" There is always a jolly ambience at the marché. I usually go toward the end of the morning, just because I am not very matinale, but that has the advantage that the commerçants
want to get rid of their merchandise and not have to put it back in the
truck. Today I got two kilos of delicious clementines for 2 euros and
two big pineapples for one euro.
Another thing that I still find amazing after all these years: 
every single time I go to the marché I see some vegetable,
fruit, fish or fowl I've never seen before. Today it was these black
tomatoes, and a kind of tiny, twisty root vegetable called crosne.
When I got to my main vegetable man, he was alone. Usually he is with his wife. He had a somber expression, and when he came over to shake my hand, I said, "Vous allez bien?" and he shook his head.
"My wife is in the hospital with the flu," he said, "and I'm not feeling very well myself. I had to do all this alone, starting at two in the morning."
"What, load and unload the truck alone?" I said. It is also really cold out today, although with a beautiful pale blue sky. "Couldn't any of the children help?" They are a handsome older couple from the Maghreb [North Africa] with six successful French children. It's a hard life for older people, having a stand at the marché in all weathers, going to the Halles de Rungis out by Orly airport every morning at three or four o'clock to buy fruits and vegetables from the farmers, then loading them into the truck, driving to Paris, unloading them for the start of the marché, then loading all the unbought stuff back into the truck for the next day's marché in a different part of town.
"The children all have jobs now," he said wistfully. "Even my daughter who's a pharmacist, and could normally have helped, she's en garde this weekend." [At all times of day or night, 365 days a year, there must be an open pharmacy in each arrondissement of Paris. The pharmacies take turns to be en garde and every pharmacy is supposed to post a list of the garde pharmacies in its window when it is closed.]
After all that, it was a little embarrassing to have to ask for my vegetables. I probably bought a little more than I would have otherwise. After I paid and put my things away, I went to shake hands goodbye, but he was already waiting on the next customer.
The last thing I picked up was some flowers. There are several florists at the marché, and I don't usually go to the one who has the best flowers-- she's odieuse and always manages to say something nasty to each of her customers. Instead I go to the friendly people who sell these chemical-sprayed Christmas trees (they also sell nice normal ones). Today the owner would not let me take the first poinsettia I chose, and picked out a much nicer one for me from the truck; then she instructed one of her sons to accompany me back to the car because I had too much to carry. "Bon weekend!" he said as he waved me off. Even though it took me twenty minutes to find a parking spot near my house, I still came home in such a good mood.
............................
D was in Leipzig last night for the big World Cup draw. It was a big spectacle with hundreds of millions of people watching on television. I hadn't thought anything of D's being there, except that Leipzig has a famous Christmas market, until I turned on Radio France Info and that's all they reported on all evening.
"Do you know how many people would give their eyeteeth to have been there last night?" I said.
"Yeah," said D, who is not a big sports fan. "And I was bored!"
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