There are just some things that no matter what else happens are so iconically linked to a culture that they become our expected images of what life must be like. For most Europeans the western movies of John Wayne or even just Hollywood in general cast an image of what America must be like. We think of Greece as white buildings with blue trim and roofs. We, or at least I have come to think of Paris and France in general with several of these quintessential images.

This past week has been full of them as a matter of fact. A week ago today we went to the big farmers market that is held under the train tracks on Boulevard Rochechouart. It was amazing. It reminded me in many ways of the markets in Morocco or Tangiers. It was loud, vendors constantly shouting their wares, it was crowded with people selling and buying. But the iconic nature of the farmers' market was lost. It was too crowded. You could not walk. I felt sorry for a little, actually no more than five feet tall, old, probably at least 80 years, woman who was trying to pull her shopping cart behind her through the crowd. Not going to happen. We were bumped, pushed, shoved, and most likely cursed at as we tried to find and buy some fresh produce. We gave up. Less than halfway through the market we looked at each other and said "no way" we turned around, no small feat in itself, and headed back. We stopped to buy some peaches, nectarines, apricots, and grapes and then got out of there as fast as we could. It might be a farmers market but it was not what we had expected based on past experiences in France.

I was told that the farmers market that I wanted to go to was actually on Friday's. I had been looking for it on Thursday...no wonder it was not to be found. I had thought it must be too late in the season or something. So this Friday I went to this market...still looking for fresh produce. This one was quintessentially French. It did not start until 2 in the afternoon...no point in getting up too early. Starting about noon the vendors were beginning to set up. The produce vendors were setting up their two tiered tables covered in artificial grass. The fishmonger was spreading ice on the big stainless trays. The butchers were wheeling in their counters. By 2 that afternoon it was ready for business and I was ready for it. I bought potatoes, onions, carrots, apples, bananas, oranges, strawberries, radishes, and even some salmon from the fish monger. I would have bought from the butcher, the beef looked great, but I had no idea how to ask for the cut of beef I wanted to make pot roast and the term pot roast brought perplexed looks and a shift down the counter from the butcher. I will work on it for next week.

This second market was just what i picture when I think of the French farmers markets. Beautiful produce arranged almost artistically. I found myself making a mental note to bring my camera next week. The smells were amazing...the man cooking the chickens on the big rotisseries along with the potatoes and in his case a big, no huge pan of chicken gizzards and livers were cooking as well. The woman selling flowers had everything you could imagine and all beautiful. I even stopped and "chatted' if you can call it that with my limited French capability, with the man selling honey, nougats, and hand made soaps. The honey was from his father's farm in Provence. This was the iconic image I wanted.

Why is France usually linked to food? There is the farmers markets, the baguette of bread, the croissant, pain au chocolat and the brasserie. Tonight we took a walk through our new hometown and had a wonderful dinner at a, here it is again, quintessential French restaurant or Brasserie. This one has been around for decades if not centuries. There are two levels with the upper level looking down on the rest of the establishment. I had been here with my son years ago and sat up on top...today we sat on the main level at a shared table...another one of those weird French customs that I have not yet gotten use to. The hostess also sat a young couple from Holland next to us to share the four seats at our table. They were great fun and we had a lively discussion about French language, places to see in Europe, and for some reason Beyonce and JayZ...who were in concert tonight here in Paris and they had tickets...we, sadly, were not going. Dinner itself was simple, we had the the day's special, boeuf bourguignon, which came with a pasta side and all the french baguette slices you could eat. The wine was simply the red house wine but it was more than pleasant and we enjoyed the dinner, the company and the evening.

On the walk home we stopped at a chocolate shop that has been in existence in this same location for almost 150 years. We had been there before but this time we knew what we wanted...sort of. We picked up some great chocolate to bring home for "dessert" later.

Walking the town, checking out the pâtisseries, the fromageries, the farmers markets, even the brasseries...life is pretty good. While all of these are iconic images of France and associated with most of the caricatures we think of for the French in general, they are also part of our lives now. I think we may miss them more than we expected when we return to the US.