Au Marche! Le Fromage! Les fruits! Le pain!

This morning I got up early to walk to the open market on Rue Charles de Gaulle, and after a lovely walk over (the trees are beginning to change, the sun was warm, the apartments were elegant, and the breeze was marvelous) I arrived at an almost overwhelming display of fresh fruit, vegetables, cheese, fish, and meats. They were even selling suede boots, leather wallets, belts and all manner of random shoe-type things. The fruits were so lovely and brightly colored that I simply had to mark myself as an American and take pictures of everything. After wandering, amazed, through the aisles of tomatoes, bananas, strawberries, pears, apples, grapes, and pungent fish filets, I asked "ou est le fromagere?" and was directed to two places where I might buy an exciting new cheese for my assignment. The first place I looked had a ridiculously large selection of cheese, and business was going rather fast--rapid French, various measurements and numbers I could not identify, and enormous pieces of cheese being cut to particular weights--so I decided to try the less-lively fromagere (which turned out to be slightly more expensive, but still less than the one on Rue de Chateau), where, after much consideration, I chose a round of "Perail," a soft fromage de brebis (ewe's cheese, made from pasteurized sheep's milk), and a ball of "Galopin Fromage de chevre," a fromage de chevre cru (unpasteurized goat's cheese). Afterwards, I just had to buy some fruit to go with my cheese, and after considering some pears that looked lovely but were not quite ripe I decided on a small bunch of black seeded grapes. After a bit more browsing, I started on my walk home, and stopped at a boulangerie (not a real one, I found out later from Geraldine, but a chain... the bread was still delicious, however) for a fresh baguette, which was warm when it was handed to me and which I could not resist eating on the walk home, when it was still a bit warm to the touch. I ended up going around the long way, and by the time I got back to my apartment my poor little feet were killing me! Note to anyone reading this: never wear new shoes to the market, not to mention cheap high-heeled sandals. Ouch! 

Here are some pictures from my walk to and from the market, the market itself, and the lovely foodie-loot I came home with:

Neuilly au septembre:

Le Boulevard Bineau:

A lovely intersection near the market:

Fresh fish! I'm sure you can imagine the smell... 

The most beautiful vegetables I have ever seen:

J'adore des bananes!

Des belles fraises:

Beaucoup de fromage suisse!

Fresh figs:


This really is my kind of place. 

Plus de fromage...

Madeleines!

Plus de fromage... 

Some lovely pears that were simply not ready to accompany my cheese:

Are these not the most beautiful berries? C'est non?

Yes, I actually made this poor fruit-vendor pose for me:

Some lovely roses at a fleurer on my walk back from the market:

...Is that a baguette in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me? Oh, how Parisian I felt carrying a baguette on the street... 

Le Fromager a la Rue de Chateau:

Plus de fromage...

Some gorgeous tarts at the boulangerie that Geraldine recommended:

Yes, I live here. :) 

A perfect meal:

I swear, the baguette was much larger when I started walking... 

Apparently, this particular cheese was a favorite of Napoleon:

After my adventure in the market, I had to get to French class at the Center, was nearly late because I missed the bus and had to wait for the next one, but arrived just in time. Another amusing class with Professor Heng, who spent an inordinate amount of time trying to explain a "Croque Monseur" to us, even to the extent of drawing a picture of the sandwich on the white-board. During our lunch break, we went to the cafe across the street from the center, ordered sandwiches and salads as well as a plate of mixed cheeses (unfortunately for the others who had not yet bought their cheese, none of which were new to us). At this point, I took out my half-baguette and apple and grapes and my two rounds of cheese and had a lovely lunch in addition to my salad. I felt a bit awkward doing this in a restaurant but, hey, it was an assignment. The chevre was lovely, creamy, and had a nice, mild bite to it, and went marvelously with the baguette and the grapes. The Perais was sweet, creamy-soft, almost gooey, and slightly--though not unpleasantly--on the salty side. It was lovely with slices of apple, as was the blue cheese that came on the mixed plate. 

Then we had our afternoon class, our first day of "Travel Writing," during which we took a little stroll just down the street to a little urban park, "La Square Emile Chautemps," and wrote in our little journals for a bit. I always feel self-conscious writing in public, but soon I was so deeply involved in what I love the most--writing, of course, except perhaps for reading--that I returned to the classroom a bit late. I sat on a bench in front of the fountain in the square, next to a woman and her son, who got up immediately after I chose them as my writing subject, and near the children's playground, where I observed that all joyful play-shrieking sounds the same in Paris as it does anywhere in the US. If only we all could remain children... 

After class, I went to buy my French textbook, and then my feet hurt so much that I really could walk no more. I headed home for a lovely dinner--fresh melon, followed by spinach ravioli with peas and fresh Parmesan sauce, followed by salade verte avec oeil d'olive, followed by more of that lovely cheese from this morning, this time enhanced by a glorious glass of red wine, and tiny sweet green plums--and now I still have some reading that I have neglected (I spent almost three hours last night perusing a guidebook of Paris and became so involved that I lost track of the time) as well as my damaged feet to attend to, so for the moment, au revoir!