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.