In France, EVERYONE goes to the market (or what some people call Farmers' Market, and what we Malaysians call 'pasar tani'). This entry was supposed to simply log my eldest son's weekly weekend gift for me which he choses at the market every Saturday morning with his papa. In fact, I should elaborate a little more about this French habit - taking a caddy or a woven basket to the fresh market whenever it's market day in their area!
I dread having to wake up early to go get some fresh local produce at the market which for us is only available on Saturday mornings, 10 km away at Chateauroux centre. When I arrived in France 4 years ago, my husband would drag me to the market when it was 'market day' to buy some fruits and vegetables or even some meat or fish. At that time, I couldn't see the point of walking 20 minutes to reach our destination and then queue for miles to get all these stuff which would be easily available at a supermarket. Worst still, they tend to cost more, and you would have to queue more than once. You would buy kilos of food and would have to walk back with all the weight. Pointless. Or so I thought. Four years later, it all makes sense. Buy local. Buy organic and even better, buy from smaller farmers. It costs a little more but the resulting taste of these produce are worth every penny (oh, sorry, I'm in France, so, centime).
I am still not fully converted to market-going rituals, preferring to push the cart and march alley by alley at a hypermarket nearby, and not having to chat about nothings with those you bump into at marché. Although, now, I totally understand why the French gets excited over the trip to the market - old habits die hard, just like mine!
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