The next morning was Saturday and our destination for the morning was the Clignancourt flea market. We took our time, as the flea market would not open until 10:00. For breakfast, we went back to our favored patisserie around the corner, bought our almond croissants and two cappuccinos, and brought them back to the apartment. When ready, we got an Uber to the eighteenth arrondissement where the Marché aux Puces de St-Ouen is. One would normally not want to go where over 3,000 puses (fleas) would be gathered, but in this case, the St. Ouen Flea Market, covering almost twenty acres is the largest in the world with over 3,000 vendor booths. The venders do not like one to take pictures, so we didn’t.
The market has at least a dozen sections to it, selling everything from secondhand clothing to vintage clothing, leather coats to Chanel shoes to gold watches; household furnishings from the seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Jewelry and objects d’art from each of those centuries; used and antique books; large items like castle gates, gazebos and staircases; graphic arts, postcards, books; fine arts and paintings; earthenware, glassware, plate ware and fine silver items; Asian collectibles, African masks, Persian carpets, Italian chandeliers, antique French gilded mirrors, shops that specialize in Jewish wares and food; and two special sections for only professionals who purchase in large quantities for export.
Having been to the flea market before and aware of its enormity, we concentrated on our favorite section, the Marche Antica (Antique market), which is located very close to the corner of where Rue Jean-Henri Fabre and Avenue Michelet meet. It is a large maze of market booths all on its own. Although crowded with shops running in different directions down narrow alleyways, items are surprisingly well laid out on shelves and tables, hanging from walls, and packed into glass cases.
We found a booth that offered stacks of original prints from an early 1900 magazine. Since I had reorganized the wall art in our home, I had cleared an upstairs hallway and these lovely colored prints of French ladies were just what we needed. Just because the place is a flea market does not mean that things necessarily come cheap. These sellers know the worth of their stuff. A little bartering, especially if one speaks French can help, which we always do. Because we bought five of the prints, the seller gave us a ten percent discount. Packed flat between cardboard, they would be safe to get home.
We also had a pleasant conversation with a woman selling lots of statues in bronze and silver, and she also sold some old Santon figurines. These “small saints” are a tradition on the Christmas tableaus of the baby Jesus in the barn along with other figurines found in a small village. We explained that I had just finished writing a mystery book that included the santon figurines, and thus our interest. We also saw some amazing old Parisian postcards. It is always a fun experience to walk through the market to see the oddest and most unusual things, as well as a fun experience of viewing the history of human art and expression.
As the morning wore on, the open market got more and more crowded, so we cut out and walked to a restaurant for lunch. We ordered, but the thin elderly waiter tried to push the specials on us. We had to be firm and repeat our requests. Apparently, Vere’s burger was not that good as he didn’t even eat half of it, and my salad was not a Caesar. I don’t know what it was. It did not have romaine lettuce, but frize lettuce with sliced potatoes. The dressing was something non-descript that had a horseradish aftertaste, but it certainly was not a Caesar dressing. The only thing that came close were the plain croutons. Maybe the waiter was trying to tell us something. We decided we would opt for better flavors with a good dinner.
After lunch we took an Uber to the eleventh arrondissement, between the Bastille and Nation, to experience the Atelier des Lumières (light workshop), but it is much more than that. It is an immersive digital museum in a huge open room with moving and changing images on the walls with music. There are two in France. The one in Paris is located in an old foundry, and over 240 projectors produce the visuals. The presentation on that month was all about Tintin, the children’s comic book character, which has been loved by French children for decades. The adventures of Tintin were up in huge portrayals, along with great pop music. The room was packed with people sitting on the floor and kids running around the room chasing clouds that raced across the floor and figures that raced across the walls.
Those familiar with the series saw all the various characters from the comic books: Tintin and his dog Milou (Snowy), Professor Calculus, Captain Haddock, Thomson and Thompson, Colonel Sporz, General Tapioca, and many more. It was a fun experience even for the adults who may not have known the character, and quite nostalgic for Vere, who spent part of his childhood in Paris as a child, and still possess some of the old comic books. As the site describes the show: “Tintin personifies all of the universal values that are a mirror to everyone’s own aspirations. Eternally youthful, the indefatigable reporter continues to conquer the world with unflagging, never-failing vitality.” We emerged with smiles on our faces.
We walked looking at the shops for a few blocks and then headed back via Uber to our Airbnb for a rest before going to dinner. The weather keeps saying rain, but so far, it keeps holding off. Though tonight the report says 100% for sure.
We walked a few blocks away and we found a bistro L’Aubereade for diner. We were rewarded with an excellent meal with traditional dishes. The building sits on the corner of Diderot and Rue Chaligny, painted dark green and flanked by large windows on both sides. Wood tables line each side of the long room, large French posters of old films are on the walls, and the kitchen is in the back. We began with a half carafe of white wine, a Loire Cheverny, with our appetizers. I had been wanting some good escargot and finally got some. The sauce of garlic, parsley and butter was perfect, and the snails were soft and very tender. Vere had the Foie gras with Armagnac. For our main plates, he had the grilled duck breast with salted butter caramel sauce, and mashed potatoes with nutmeg. I had the fresh squid marinated in herbs and spices then grilled with olive oil, dill, parsley, chervil, red onion, lemon, and garlic, with Santorini fava (a yellow split pea puree) and sweet minced peppers. For dessert, I had the pistachio and apricot tarte and Vere had a fruity sorbet blended into a smoothie. It is touted as one of the top ten restaurants in Paris, and we agree. It was our best meal in Paris on this trip.
Walking back, we stopped at our local grocer for a few things to eat for lunch on our three-hour train trip tomorrow heading south to Provence. That night we packed, relaxed, and watched the rain come down. We set the alarm for 7:30 a.m. to give us plenty of time for breakfast, prep our sandwiches for lunch and get to the train station.
The next morning it was still lightly sprinkling, but we walked to the bakery and got our beloved almond croissants and a baguette of bread for making sandwiches. Vere had brought home the duck he had not been able to finish the night before, so I sliced it up, and added some Chausée Moines cheese. This mild soft cheese comes in a plump round package, has been made since 1948 in Craon en Mayenne, France. The Craon dairy used to make primarily Saint-Paulin type cheeses, was originally produced by Trappist monks beginning in the 19th century. For me, with a lighter appetite, I had purchased some sliced cucumber salad in sour cream and used that with the cheese on a baguette.