When in
paris, Saturday morning is traditionally spent at the Porte De Vanves flea
market. Not to be confused
with the overwhelming Marche de Puce at Clignoncourt, to which people are
usually referring when they speak of "Paris flea markets."
This
market takes place deep in the fifteenth arrondissement and is not a permanent
site, like Les Puces, but a street about a mile long of vendors who dump their wares
from the back of their vans onto the sidewalks. In the past we've found some good stuff, but the days of
collecting are over, I think, except on a small scale. Today's haul? An old metal Harley Davidson sign Gene got for 10e. I was
proud of myself for passing over a sketch I really wanted.
A stop at
Cafe Diderot to split a club sandwich and order of frites and it was back to
the
apartment to do laundry and, later, cook a dinner of scrambled egg sandwiches.
Yes, we do travel glamorously, I know. Try not to hate.
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