Friday, June 18, 2010

sounds like a French butterfly, or pepper and a filet mignon

For a change of pace, on Thursday, we went to Perpignan. It’s the capital of the Pyrenees-Orientales Department, which perhaps doesn’t tell you much until you realize that there are 95 departments in France (further grouped into 22 regions and the Pyrenees-Orientales belongs to the Languedoc-Roussillon region) and so perhaps being a capital may not mean that it is large.

In fact, Perpignan is about the size of Madison: the city proper has maybe 120,000 people and the larger metro area has around 300,000.


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It feels significantly more urban than Madison. And, of course, it’s been around for a while (historians place its birth somewhere in the tenth century).


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I admit, I wanted a city moment. And a bigger market.

And I did get both, though the market was still of medium proportions. And that's hardly surprising given that Perpignan has many outdoor markets, some daily, some four days a week, some on select days. It's a challenge to keep this straight. In any case, the old town market was the most atmospheric, if a bit on the medium small size.


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Being the tourist that I am, I wanted to see the old town. And so we stayed within city center and satisfied ourselves with the food stalls and food shops around the Place de la Republique.


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We basked in the loveliness of the old square...


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...we shopped for dinner foods, and admired shop windows (here, I must admit I did the admiring and Ed kept the patient demeanor of a person who will be happy when his traveling companion is done with store gazing), and toward the end, were tempted beyond belief by the fresh oysters sold at this place..


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... and wanting to reward my occasional traveling companion for his good cheer, I treated him, but really us to a plateful of wonderful, buttery Bretagne oysters.


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And then we drove home. Happy as anything to be in the village again, where a dad puts his arm on his daughter’s shoulder, and an older couple takes an evening stroll with their dog, and our neighbor hauls in the best apricots ever.


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Later, we ate our market riches on our patio. The bread was from Parpignan, for a change, but the pastries were from Sorede's bigger bakery.


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