markets

Colors Of Provence II: Market Time!

by Becky on July 2, 2013 · 7 comments

in Travel

Better lavender_0623

Usually, heading to the market means: a hasty list scribbled on a post-it note. And a typical list might read: toothpaste, bagels, shoelaces for Goose’s Converse. And when it comes time to refer to the post-it note, I might realize: Oh, left it at home (which means it’s lost forever). And therefore a trip to the market becomes: guesswork.

But pretty much anywhere in Provence, heading out to the market requires absolutely no post-it note, and guesswork is of course welcome.

No one even minds that you talk to yourself, that you just continaully keep saying over and over, No!–you’re kidding me. (Like when the local macaroon maker insists you try the almond ones, then the pistachio, then the orange blossom . . .) Or that you are heard to exclaim, Oh . . . my! (Like when the endless stacks of Provencal linens frankly just defy understanding.) Or that, to whoever will listen, you insist, Smell-this-smell-this-smell-this! (Like when the fragrant, locally-made soaps make you positively silly.)

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Girls with soaps_4076

Girls with soaps_4078

Vegetables_0646

Olives_0700

Peppers_0694

Mortar and pestles_0586

Red chairs and tables_0688

Cafe in Bonnieux_0608

Honey_4039

Baguettes_4034

Table linens_0709

Lavender sachets_0610

Flowers_4135

Dresses_4069

During our trip to France, the Eleven O’Clock Dad and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. By marketing. I couldn’t imagine a grander way to ring in year twenty-six.

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Go See Vienna! And Take Your Kids!

by Becky on August 25, 2012 · 1 comment

in Uncategorized

When we dock in Vienna, we each have a few things we really, really want to do.  My son the Mozart lover, he’s about the music.  And the architecture.  I love watching his face each time we enter a cathedral.  My younger daughter and I want cake (my daily ritual).  My older daughter, the vintage queen, wants to do some thrifting, if there’s any thrifting to be done.  And my youngest–well, he’s the disappearing act.  I finally have to turn off my “quiet box” (the radio/head phone set that dials me in to our group’s historian-slash-tour guide) because I can’t manage to listen to her and keep track of my eight-year-old at the same time.  I mean, every monument in the city is begging to be climbed, and he has no compunction about dashing off to the nearest one, even if it means getting himself lost.

Notice the look of awe.   One of the best things about the trip is watching the kids react to beauty.

And watching them react to each other. 

Tucked into the tower of St. Matthias church, Vienna.  Better than playing in a fort . . . 

All smiles.  Does she know there’s a piece of cake somewhere in her day?  Below:  the “Che” beret that called out to her from the shelves of Little Joe’s Gang, a vintage clothing store in Vienna.

  • Vienna - Thrift Shop Vienna - Thrift Shop Outside thrift shop in Vienna
  • Vienna - Vintage Glasses 1 Vienna - Vintage Glasses 1 Compilation of vintage glasses at a thrift store in Vienna - photo 1
  • Vienna - Vintage Glasses 2 Vienna - Vintage Glasses 2 Compilation of vintage glasses at a thrift store in Vienna - photo 2
  • Vienna - Vintage Glasses 3 Vienna - Vintage Glasses 3 Compilation of vintage glasses at a thrift store in Vienna - photo 3
  • Vienna - Vintage Glasses 4 Vienna - Vintage Glasses 4 Compilation of vintage glasses at a thrift store in Vienna - photo 4
  • Vienna - Vintage Glasses 5 Vienna - Vintage Glasses 5 Compilation of vintage glasses at a thrift store in Vienna - photo 5
  • Vienna - Vintage Glasses 6 Vienna - Vintage Glasses 6 Compilation of vintage glasses at a thrift store in Vienna - photo 6
     

 The vintage queen selects a pair of glasses.  Who cares that they’re not prescription?  Take them back to the states, ship them off somewhere to be retrofitted with prescription lenses . . . and you’re good, right?  But which pair to choose?  Which PAIR?

 

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