The Apt Market

It is my third day in Apt and so far the days have been spent enjoying the very best of la France; 'le culture, le climat et la cuisine'. The days here are very slow and leisurely; the shops seem to open to their own timetable and consequently there are some I haven't yet seen open. If I need to go out and buy something, there seems to be no time you can guarantee them open, you have to take pot luck. The shops are nearly all closed at midday, and the streets deserted, except for the hoards of men gathered round the squares playing an obligatory game of 'boules', another provençal quirk and funny to watch such typically french men with thick grey mustaches and cigarettes in hand, muttering and exclaiming in unison- something you would never see in England during a weekday lunchtime.

the public gardens- sat here to write postcards and 'bronzer'

With Becca in Switzerland it's been quiet in the apartment so I have been trying to entertain myself. Yesterday I did some washing and sunbathing whilst working* at my desk. I was fine until bed time, and have indeed been marveling at my quick adjustment to living here, when I got into bed and suddenly was wide awake, listening to every creak and thump in the building. I spent a good few hours, heart thumping, planning various escape routes, defense strategies, working out necessary french vocab in case of emergencies and running worst case scenarios through my head before I eventually fell asleep, halfway through writing my eulogy.  I woke up early, feeling much better in the light of day, but still double checked behind the bathroom and kitchen door in case. 

early morning in Apt

breakfast aujourd'hui

Today is market day in Apt, and as the capital of the Luberon, the market is vast. Before arriving, researching Apt online and in books immediately told me the Saturday market in Apt is a sight to behold, with people travelling to it from all over the region. I woke up early, shouldered my french straw bag (très français) and headed out of the appartment. Already the town was taken over by cars, parked all the way down the side of the river and in the school car park. The first thing I noticed, that amused me, was that I had gone out wearing a skirt and vest, on a warm morning with a slight breeze. The local people stared at me, wrapped in their coats, fleeces and scarves. I will be interested to see what they wear in January and February when, according to Peter Mayle, the cold really sets in, and the legendary Mistral wind comes hurling through the valley. I wandered through the narrow streets which were lined with many stalls, sellers calling to each other in the strong provençal accent I am struggling to grasp. The stalls were very typical of France and indeed Provence- an abundance of soap, lavender, olive wood, l'herbes de provence and provençal pottery.

fruit seller 

I ended up buying fruit to stock up the apartment- (update on the canteen- I will only eat there if all other options are exhausted, and I mean ALL) and a wool scarf for 10 euros. It is difficult to know now what is the best produce and which is the best value; these famous markets often sell overpriced tourist souvenirs of Provence because of the large influx of Brits in the area but that wasn't my concern today- it was getting by without any embarrassing french blunders. Often I will ask a question in French and they reply in English  which is friendly and most of the french relish the opportunity to practice their excellent English (which they are very proud of) but I feel a lot better when I have managed to conduct a conversation in French (albeit short).

my FRENCH straw bag with my purchases

my delicious lunch after the market

To conclude, so far, so good. Hopefully I will be exhausted from my night of trauma and will drop off straight away tonight. Tomorrow I plan to finish all the admin I've been doing and then on Monday go further afield and explore Avignon. 

Love to everyone reading this at home xxx

*(not)