The first present I received after I was accepted to ESSEC was a little book from Beth on the Parisian marchés. I was so excited to read about all of the various markets and neighborhoods, and I imagined all sorts of wonderful treasures that I would find. When I arrived in Paris, I immediately set to discovering my new marchés. Some markets revealed themselves to be less than they promised, like the flea market in the 14th that had one vendor who was selling a bowlful of old teeth. Other markets, like Les Puces (the Fleas), offered everything from miles of expensive vintage Chanel jewelry to cheapy little finds.
When I moved into my Marais apartment, I met Carey’s schoolmate, Detrich. The word that best describes him is “gregarious.” The first night I met him, he was telling a story about how his partner, Mika, had brought back fresh strawberries from the fruit market. Detrich’s response was along the lines of “What are you doing buying fresh strawberries? We don’t have fresh strawberry money!” So now, whenever I think about buying something I shouldn’t (which, right now, is pretty much anything), I hear Detrich in my head saying, “You don’t have fresh strawberry money.”
I didn’t have a lot of fresh strawberry money to spend, but many markets were perfect for strolling through without spending a euro. My favorite market of all was one I had been intrigued with ever since reading of it in my little marché book, the Flower and Bird Market (Le Marché aux Fleurs et Oiseaux). During the good months, the market is full of beautiful flowers of every kind. Mixed in with all of these flowers on Sundays are as many kinds of animals. The market becomes an outdoor pet store sorts, selling some unusual “pets” like chipmunks and unidentifiable breeds of chicken. Aside from these, the vendors sell songbirds, goldfish, chinchillas, rats (clothed and unclothed), parrots, chicks, chipmunks and other creatures according to the season.
In the Spring, one vendor brings a big wooden box full of bunnies. Oh, the bunny box! You can reach in and pick up a baby bunny and hold it for as long as you want. Once Tyler and I visited the bunny box and someone had placed a stray gerbil among the bunnies. A very concerned Tyler wondered, “Do you think he knows he’s different from the rest or does he think he’s a bunny too?” It was a very esoteric question in some ways.
January 1942
Spring 2005(ish)
