Marche aux Puces


I've developed a very small case of the blues lately, upon realizing I hadn't been hugged in over a month. The french bises, yes, but a hug? Non . Thankfully this was remedied by a trip to the Marche aux Puces, the Parisian flea markets. I am not typically a fan of flea markets, but what I saw was a stark contrast to the sea of Chinese imports and boiled peanuts I'm accustomed to.

The markets, like most of Paris, were a museum. Antiques fit for Kings, probably from Kings.  VIntage Chanel and Galliano couture that honestly took my breath away. Everything was highly curated and held an air of mystique. I walked around for a couple of hours, had lunch and almost bought a tiara with my week's salary. The sun came out and assured me that I probably have been a little vitamin D deficient.  Paris was magical again, but like all things that go up, must come down. Which they did. 

Upon re-entering the metro, I was stopped by the Metro patrol, or whoever they are. I have a weekly pass I use, which I showed to the guard.  Then there was yelling in French, demanding 50 euros, which I didn't have, demanding my passport, also not with me, then I was told the police were being called. Visions of Chateau D'if flashed in my mind, along with a show called locked up abroad.  Apparently I am required to have a photo on my metro pass, I didn't know this. Luckily they believed me. The hysterical crying might have helped my case. Feeling a little unhinged, I window shopped the Rue de Rivoli and checked into my hostel (which was a better experience than the previous). I found a really cute bar with nice bartenders who gave me 2 free glasses of wine (this is becoming a normal occurrence, possibly out of sympathy for the lonely, lost,  american girl). After, I  saw the Eiffel tower at night, which immediately put that stupid "Paris is a dream" smile back on my face.  

Currently I am in the French countryside at the family's cheese farm for Christmas. Thinking of all my friends and family, miss you all, love you all. I can't replace you with french cheese, but I am going to try. Joyeux Noel tout le monde! 

 He's asleep! 

He's asleep! 

Tara Cunningham