Sunday, January 13, 2013

Fleeing.

Yesterday ole Mr LC and I were weaving on the back country roads in our truck on a mission to get some hay for Sassy.  You remember Sassy right?

Haute Coutre at its best.

You remember Mr LC right?

Mug shot.




Wait.  You remember me right?


Just joshin' y'all.


Anyway, back to my point.  While drifting through the snowdrifts in our truck, I mentioned to Mr LC that this was a far cry from Paris and was our cheapskate European adventure just a dream?

When we got home, I had to go through our pictures just to make sure we were really there.  I am now going to bore you with a story of our trip to the Paris Flea Market.


For starters, in Paris the flea market is called les Puces.  Nice, eh?  Since we traversed the Metro the day before with the cousins we figured we were all that and could handle the Metro on our own, no problem.  Down to the depths of the underground we go.  Up we come and check out the map for a good twenty minutes.  Down to the depths we go again.  We actually made it even with a transfer to another line.  We were pumped.

We come up out of the metro expecting to see the flea market staring us in the face.  It did not. We were way on the outskirts of Paris in a sort of immigrant neighbourhood with lots of burly darkish skinned men standing about in groups smoking and talking profusely with each other. (not in French if you catch my drift)

Mr LC got all brave and asked one fellow if he spoke English.  No, he said. We talked to him anyway and asked him where the Puce was.  Down by the bridge he says IN ENGLISH.  We looked far off into the distance and spotted the bridge.

Now if you get to the flea market don't be discouraged when you come to all these booths with swarthy looking men selling knock offs.  They holler at you but DO NOT ENGAGE.  You will be buying more counterfeit sports wear than you know what to do with if you even nod at them.  To say I was nervous would be an understatement.  I kept wanting to go back to the metro but Mr LC was adamant. This excursion was to be the highlight of his trip and by gum, he was going to the Paris Flea or bust.  After walking through about a block of knock offs we found the entrance!!! We found it, we found the mother lode.





I only took a couple of photos because a lot of vendors don't like it.  I asked the owner of this place and he said yes and then he added 'for ten euros'.  Thankfully, he was joking.





I never saw so much silver in my life.  Mr LC was in seventh heaven as he is an avid collector.  He really wanted to get a chandelier though.  Yeah, right.  Super expensive.  I thought most things were high but Mr LC found a deal and got two beautiful serving spoons for one euro each.  I found a teeny tiny miniature cottage for a euro and that was the extent of our purchases.  I was on the hunt for linens but I fear they must have all been shipped to America because there was nothing there.  I saw some neat old metal numbers but I wasn't going to pay ten euros each for them.

Needless to say we arrived back at our apartment safely and headed out to the Paris opera house that evening.  That is a story for another day though.

Most importantly, Sassy got her hay and will be fed for another month.

13 comments:

annie said...

Such restraint! Did Mr LC wear his bandana to the fleamarket to enhance his street cred?
Lovely to read you again, dear Deb! x

thedomesticfringe.com said...

You're so funny. Wow. That's a lot of silver. I love flea markets and the idea of a flea market in a foreign country is really appealing to me. I would love to live in a place where I went to the market every day and haggled over chickens and potatoes with the vendors. Of course I'd end up coming home with baskets and flowers and trinkets too. In fact, it's probably good that I don't live near an open market, but I would love it if I did. My father says I'm like the gypsies. (in a good sense) ;-)

Sassy has got a snazzy coat.
~FringeGirl

An Urban Cottage said...

We don't get to see photos of your purchases? It was a good story though.

Love your fascinator!

Sweet Bee Cottage said...

Thank goodness you didn't have a Broken Item of the Week at the Paris Flea! I was worried there for a minute.

The Little Acre that Could said...

What a super adventure! I would have loved digging through all that silver.

I was glad to hear Sassy got her hay in the end.

Makeminemidcentury said...

Debbish,
how are you feeling? Over the morning sickness?

Why can't you blog more often? You make me laugh like no other blog.

Mr LC looks like a French rapper. A French rapper who has a penchant for sterling silver dinnerware.

Give him my love. And Sassy.

Laura Sudderth said...

I miss you when you don't blog for months. I laugh out loud when I read your blog!

Linda @ Itsy Bits And Pieces said...

Sounds like quite the adventure, Deb...and you are sure looking good, girl...

Bobbi Arbore said...

Is it a girl or a boy Deb?

French people always do that. You ask if they can do something and they say no only to do that exact thing seconds after. I had a french who said couldn't speak a single word of german and then I heard her arguing with a german customer over the phone. In german. Why do they do that. Self esteem issues?

Hi sassy!!

Blighty said...

I love this story Debs, you were very intrepid in Paris, I have never been to the flea market...and has any one ever told you, you look a lot like the Duchess of Cambridge? uncanny.

Regine Karpel said...

Love this! Thanks!
www.rsrue.blogspot.com

Valentina said...

every time visiting your lovely blog, I'm starting to smile quietly) You're writing as if it is happening to me sometimes
thanks

Jacci said...

I would *love* to do that. To shop there. I'm sure I'd be a dork and pay more than I should, though. You're very self-controlled!! :)