L'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue has a Sunday and a Thursday market and they attract many folks from nearby towns. Market day is also a day just to be out and about and relaxing on a bench in the town garden. I love the expressions of these folks as I flushed this pigeon into flight - the dog missed the whole action.
Want some herbs or spices? Say the name of it or point - sorry, no little glass jars on a shelf like in an American supermarket.
Radishes, the long and skinny variety.
The olive and tapenade vendor was doing a brisk business.
As I've said before, anywhere a restauranteur can set up a table he/she will do so - even on this narrow bridge over the Sorgue river.
I have observed both in Paris and here in Provence that coffee and a cigarette and a long sit nursing a tiny cup is the cafe lifestyle - watching people, chatting, not in any hurry. Smoking, drinking, dogs at their feet - cafe life. The waiter and waitress each with way too many tables, are unflappable - as soon as a table empties, new customers sit down - back and forth, back and forth, weaving through the Sunday market crowd of walkers, dogs, cars, vans, vendor stands to reach the table by the water across the street - ever unflappable. Nobody yells, nobody gets in a huff - cafe life - it'll be when it'll be. Patience in full view.
By mid-afternoon, the market stalls have been disassembled until the next time but the festive atmosphere remains as a saxophonist sets up below my window and entertains the cafe patrons for most of the afternoon.
The stroller kid was fascinated by the saxophone sounds. Every time his mother tried to push the stroller away, he became quite agitated in his two-year-old manner and insisted they stay - they stayed.
Note: This is the first of two posts I published today, keep scrolling down.
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