Bonnieux's market and a visit to Menerbes

Of all the markets we’ve been to, Bonnieux’s Friday market still hadn’t been visited. Since Mom and Dad are planning on going off for a long weekend leaving me (and Alan when he returns) car-less, the fridge needed a little stocking. Just as we were setting out, Peter, from whom we are renting the studio/house, was in the street. He and his wife, Alison, had arrived to find a huge leak where they had had some plumbing work done earlier in the summer, and there was a drip under the sink in the studio (which hadn’t been there before) that we wanted to point out to them while they were looking into everything. He came up and told us that they would have someone come look at it. He also told just the interesting fact that the arch from the kitchen to the living area of the studio was once one of the gates into Lacoste! The road has dropped down lower now, but it was a neat fact to know about our lodgings.

The Bonnieux market was a nice size; bigger than the two vendors at Lacoste’s, but much smaller than the other ones we had been to. We stood in line at the veggie stall behind a group of Asian tourists-they had this neat book with photos of food and then the names in a couple of languages. The women were buying the food while the men took photos and videos, which made me laugh. We also bought some Herbs de Provence (a yummy mix of basil, oregano, thyme, and rosemary) at the spice stall. We’d just been using a mix that was already in the house but it was almost out. There we a few other mixes that looked good; maybe we’ll go back and get some more.

Our best find at the market, however, was the hugest meringue with almond slivers on top. It’s shape amazed me, and for just 3 euros we took it home. I almost enjoyed looking at it more than eating it!

The market at Bonnieux was not alone in being close and yet not seen; Mom and Dad had yet to go to Menerbes. Mom picked out a very nice walk for us that went along a road that skirted the hilltop occupied by the town. We set out from the parking lot and ended in the old town, walking to the church at the tip of the town that Alan and I hadn’t reached. The church was locked, but as most churches here uses old-fashioned keys you can still peak through the keyhole and actually catch a glimpse of what’s inside.

Through the keyhole

I like the ironwork crosses they have around here.

Alan and I hadn’t talked since he left, except for a few of his brief messages on  Facebook. In this age of cell phones it seemed like forever since I’d heard his voice, and so he humored me by Skypeing in the evening. He had been really busy in Paris, but was starting to feel like he was coming down with a cold. I didn’t like to hear that, but I was happy to know he was ok and coming home soon.