Going Shopping Wednesday 16th July

Sommieres - Our local market town

We’ve just spent the morning in a massive supermarket in the industrial area near St Aunes. Everywhere in this region has a saints name and I have the feeling that maybe the bar was set a bit lower for becoming a saint than it is these days. The first thing that struck us as we entered the halls of plenty at Le Clerc was that everyone appeared to be relatively slim. Of course there were one or two exceptions, but I don’t mean huge; just a bit overweight. Having been surrounded by super-sized American shoppers for five years, we had come to expect the usual blockages in the aisles while large mothers shunted overweight children and over-laden trolleys from one end to the other, usually to a barrage of loud language and a fair amount of pushing and shoving. The French are far too busy queuing in an orderly fashion at the fish counter or carefully selecting the right sort of bread or the best cuts of meat.

Apart from the usual displays of washing powders, tinned fish and mountains of bottled water, there are such delights as truffles, caviar, rabbit and wild boar. Children are issued with their own small shopping carts and quickly learn to follow the selective eye of their mothers. Vast stacks of wine at around $3 a bottle make it hard to pass by such an obvious bargain, and over in the gardening section, important decisions are being made over the right shaped table and the best sprinkler system. The French take their hobbies very seriously and gardening is fast becoming a national pastime.

Sunday is market day and we set off for Lunel bright and early and are rewarded with the sight of the plant and flower market already in full swing. However, having made our purchases, we then discover that the old market has been moved and now sells largely only clothing. Gone are the wonderful old stalls of olives, fresh bread, charcuterie and the like. I used to love the stalls that had every sort of household item that a busy French housewife could desire. From the humble garlic press to the high tech bottle opener, there was something for everyone. I can see that we will have to investigate the smaller village markets and see if they remain unchanged. I’m sorry, but a market without a single trace of cheese just isn’t a market in my book!

The centre of town was taken up with preparations for a bullfight during the afternoon. Not being prepared to hang about and watch an animal being tortured to death for the delight of the gathering crowds, we headed back home and planted out our new herbs before embarking on that very French habit of a good long siesta.