People Watching

 

From our perch at the Mille et Une tea room's sidewalk, we're in a perfect spot to view the people visiting the local Saturday marché. Rick drinks his hot chocolate. I drink my tea. Sometimes we have croissants, chocolatine, pain au raisin. 

The tea room is at a crossroad but the marché is on several streets selling veggies, olives, cheese, bread, clothes, shoes, jewelry, toys, plants and more.

During July and August when the tourists pour in, usually they are families with school-age children who take advantage of the beach and many activities.

In late August to the end of October, the wrinklies arrive. Gray hair, varicose veins, pot bellies replace the slimmer younger tourists. If there is a young child it is pre-school or an obviously adored grandchild. We are wrinklies ourselves, although we still work but on our own time table.

We sometimes count things that pass us by. How many baseball hats, New York T.-shirts. We counted canes today. 

We also have counted dogs. Although Sherlock loves to sit in our lap at an outdoor café on marché day there are too many feet to walk him through the crowd. People ask, "Ou est Sherlock?" before they greet Rick or myself.

This was our first marché back from the summer in our Geneva home. 

The dobblegänger of my father and his girl friend see us and come over to say hello with big smiles. We tell them Geneva was as hot and sometimes hotter than Argelès. Next summer we may try north Scotland, Sweden or maybe the North Pole. 

I resist asking him about his 97-year-old mother, one of the Retirada who escaped Franco by walking across the Pyrenees in January 1939. I'm always afraid, although she is alert and peppy, she may have died. 

In early morning the locals go out to buy their lunch veggies and meat. They all live up to the stereotype of French carrying baguettes.

The marché is on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Set-up begins around 7:00. Trucks or caravans pull in, unload stands, tables and merchandise. Owners then sit at a café for a last minute coffee. They will have no chance to rest until noontime when they bring back their trucks or caravans and reload.

Some of the merchants go from village to village. Others, like the brownie lady, only come to our village every Saturday. We are good clients. 

I had hoped to people watch at this Wednesday's marché, but it is raining. Not a complaint. After eight canicules (heatwaves) blanketing Europe, the need to wear a sweater and raise an umbrella is wonderful.