Every Saturday morning, vendors from all over Montpellier set up shop under the town's ancient aqueducts for town market. The market is home to the run of the mill market goods such as fruits, veggies and cheeses,
but also whole chickens roasts over open fires, cooking potato halves in its dripping juices, giant pans of fresh paella, and cans of foie gras.
While the market closes at 2, one can easily spend days going from vendor to vendor, eating samples of fresh cheese,
smelling huge assortments of spices,
and drinking freshly made green tea from a strange little man with a mandolin.
The market is crowded with locals, getting their fix of everything they need for the week ahead.
While I was there, I bought a delicious still warm baguette, goat cheese topped with rosemary and bursting with flavor, sweet and salty green olive tapenade and an ear of corn. It was delicious.
I would have gotten more things, but my arms can only carry so much and saying "Je vodrais..." and then mimicking the way you eat food you'd like doesn't get you very far. Being in France, I have also realized how much Spanish I actually know. And also that French is not Spanish. But sometimes it doesn't matter if you can tell a "droit" from a "droites," meandered on home, my fresh baguette sticking out of the top of my bag I felt very French anyway.
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