June 7 and 8 - A Saturday market, what else? Well ...
Woke to rain, a light pitter patter from the window, glistening cobblestones, the promise of a marche of good repute, the idea of more fromage.
Ooops, gotta get the coffee ...🤩
Mission II: buy some fresh fruit and veggies for the weekend; scour for Brocante treasure; and a lilttle cheese, charcuterie and pastry would not go astray. Walk a little more of the town. So off we go, bags optimistically held, to achieve the mission goals.
But first, negotiate some beautiful stairs and ambience:
Karen found a little patch of Brocante heaven. We arrived early to find one purveyor going through a box of small jewellery and who was happy for customers to join him. I think it is primal and instinctive. Put straw beneath a chooky's foot and it has to scratch, no choice. Put small sparkly shiny metallic stuff in a pile and and the dominant hand has to scratch.
Efforts resulted in the recovery of some Pierre Lang (🤷) jewellry. For those in the know 🤩 . Well done.
Some really nice produce ...
Clouds became bored, sun snuck through, feet walkd home, lunch arrived, lunch again ingurgitated happily.
A quiet reflective writing kind of afternoon followed then a second walk through the town. Karen chanced upon a hat store "Chapellerie Vincent" and optimistically thought I might like to see the hats. You see my cheap hap was looking excessively meh. I rocked up and then two hats later i was smiling.
With that we followed signage to an art exhibition and viewed some exciting work by Sandrine Boitton using photosensitive chemicals, special paper, leaves and flowers and some time in the sun as part of her repertoire.
Next door was some interesting sculpture but only a few exhibits.
Radishes like to dive head first into butter and pepper and then be eaten. A long slice of 24 month aged comte likes to watch.
Homesick bunnys like to snuggle into comforting closeness.
Tiring eyelids like to surrender.
zz zzz zzzzz z zz zzz zzzzz etc
Woke with mixed feelings of our last full day in Beaune.
Slow, soulful wake, coffee, shower, dress, plan, eat. Second coffee 'cause.
Karen headed off for the Sunday Brocante and Antique market or stalls in Les Halles to find some interesting odds and ends. The French wander and ponder around stalls like us Aussies and like us Foreigners too.
After a couple of purchases we head homewards and with 30 minutes before closing we were told we were not wanted by a posh restaurant for lunch. Later checking their prices we found they were correct in reverse. We found an open for long enough bar and restaurant with a nice proportion of French language.
After enjoying an unrushed lunch we found the local Nicholas store, a more friendly and discerning liqour outlet than the supplier squeezing likes of Mr D.M.
Our dude was ever so chatty and spoke better english than our French. So we exchanged conversation and wine thoughts and discovered that Nicholas is a franchise but the store owners are encouraged to make use of local knowledge and stock wines of their choice as well. We wanted to take a champagne to Lyon so he helped us find one within our price bracket. A young customer wandered in and we were happy to let him pay for his beer. After asking the owner as wise question it was confirmed that he can drink beer in public, "just be sensible". We learned that there are a small number of wine producing areas in Texas and he learned that older Aussies can be funny and bright.
We went home, without drinking a public beer ...
relaxed, wrote, contemplated next stop Lyon, ate, drank, drank again but not drunk. We decided to save the champagne for Lyon. Maybe we sms'd our Texan friend to say older Aussies also have legendary self discipline. Maybe we didn't. Maybe we couldn't find the phones. Maybe we fell asleep on the sofa. Maybe we fell properly aligned upon the bed. Maybe you will never know.
This featured blog entry was written by lesnkaren from the blog France 2025.
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