The fountain at Place Monge on Sunday Market day

In France, one of the things we truly enjoyed was the Sunday market held in the Place Monge town square. One could buy ANYTHING needed for eating, drinking, or giving. We only hit one Sunday that had a simultaneous flea market going on, but the rest of the days, there was no lack of choices for purchase. Fresh fruit, vegetables, and flowers were squashed in among stalls of stinky cheese and fish, raw meat and poultry. Lucious homemade breads competed for the winning fragrance award with occasional ‘meals made for you right now.’ The entire experience was a delight for the senses. Taking home the goods – mouthwatering sustanence.

flowers at Sunday Market

Meat vendor at Place Monge

vegetable vendor at Place Monge

Market fare from Place Monge

Many years ago, in the Yakima Valley, a Sunday farmer’s market was hatched. Of course, being at church  most of each Sunday, we did not frequent the market. In fact, we boycotted it simply because it should be held on Saturdays (our opinion) so market workers and go-ers could attend church on Sunday. Granted, I don’t believe our boycott gained any new members of a church anywhere…

With our recent life change of full Sunday church responsibilities to experiencing ‘house church’ at a local park on Sunday mornings, we decided we would check it out – to see what the rest of the valley does on Sunday mornings. It seems that many residents take pride and joy at what is locally available, fresh from the fields, and the hands of gardeners, farmers, and crafters.

Sunday Market in Yakima

Pleasantly surprised, we found a plethora of aromatic and tasty produce, fruit, home produced crafts, and food items. Mixed in was a variety of ethnic food stalls (I love the panset and lumpia) and shoppers galore.

Checking out the goods

An added bonus is musical entertainment. Steel drum music was such a wonderful accompaniment to the outing.

My grandbaby hits the Sunday Market

Our boycott was in vain. We encountered people we knew, interacted with community members, and socialized under the hot sun. Purchasing fresh produce and showing off our grandson was at the top of the list of prizes for the day.

Hayden with Papa at the Yakima Sunday Market

I guess the boycott was a misguided waste of time. The Master Gardener did not sick Himself in church and stay there all day on Sundays. He was out among the people, where ever the people were…Perhaps more productive to relationship building and reaching out is to be where the people are…not where we think they should be, but where they actually are.

A challenge to myself – where are the families in my community on any given Sunday morning? Maybe it’s time I found out…and made some new friends.

The new blog is titled Quantrell Quips, Quirks, and Quandary’s… found at www.angiequantrell.blogspot.com

And this was BEFORE espresso soaked dessert.

now the cap is where it belongs

It’s true. I’ve joined the “Look at that! I can’t believe they did that? Honestly, who forgets that?” group. And if my son finds out, I’m gonna be on his list…
Set the scene: midnight, last leg of the trip home from the Tacoma area, HOT (still almost 90), driving because it’s cooler at night (??? serioiusly, 90′s are better than 100′s if there is no AC in the vehicle, right?), the gas gage is hovering between 1/4 of a tank and the red zone…
The question: Do I stop and do a quick fill, or just head over the 3 humps and pray the gas holds…Do I really want to sit in the dark (with an empty gas tank) waiting for family members to notice I am not there (and can’t call because there is no reception on those hills)?
Solution: Ok, quick stop at the truck stop for $10 of gas to make it home.
Just in case some of you have never been at a truck stop at midnight, it’s kind of weird. And hot. Did I say how hot it was? The station had these special lights that attracted thousands of moths (I AM NOT overexaggerating). The ground was crunchy with carcasses, while the rest circled clueless as to their fate, banging against the lights. Before I even got out of the rig, they were swarming. Ick. I dashed in, paid my money, and went out…to fight the moths landing on everything. I flicked them out of my hair, off the truck, away from the gas tank..As I stood there, I thought, really, they need a few bat houses here or a ginormous bug zapper. But I’d rather they go natural with some bats.
So, as I watched the ten bucks disappear into the tank (let’s NOT talk about gas prices), I observed suicidal moths, the lack of gas receipt, the moths in my face…when the pump quit, I put the hose away, zipped in the caballero, and headed out asap – mind you, talking to myself, wishing they had bug catchers or something, and asking how could I get a receipt if I paid cash…it’s the simple things that escape me in the middle of my mind, I mean night, like forgetting how to go in and ask for a receipt. Debit cards are much easier.
Fast forward 35 minutes and I was pulling into the carport in Yakima. I got out of the vehicle and started unloading my junk…And I noticed the gas tank was open. Weird, I didn’t remember not shutting it. Then I looked closer, and not even the gas cap was on! Gasp! Oh, no, Taylor is going to kill me…where is it…Not laying in the back where I place it when I put gas in the tank. Oh, relief, there it is, rolled up to the front of the pickup bed. Quick, before anyone notices, screw on the gas cap and close the door.
Uh, did I just drive all the way from Ellensburg with my tank wide open??? What a space…I can no longer wonder how people can drive off with the gas hoses still attached or forget their drink on top of their car or leave the gas cap dangling…I’m one of them. Just a moment of distraction, and too many moths, yes, I’ll blame them…
Whew. Good thing it was dark and no one could see what I did.

bumper to bumper cars

That’s it. As far as the eye can see, cars sticking bumper to bumper. I am SO happy to not have a car while living in Paris. The Metro is just perfect, thank you. Or my own 2 feet.

I am fascinated with drivers in Paris…it’s amazing how little damage actually occurs as people get from A to Z in as little time, distance, and space as possible.

Some observations about parking in Paris, just in case you want to drive and park while here:

no limit except vertical walls

Motorcycles, scooters, bicycles…pretty much can park anywhere. They are supposed to follow normal driving rules, but motorcycles have a secret lane between the outside 2 driving lanes, and both motorcycles and bicycles will pass stopped vehicles and get in front of them to get away first when the light turns green. Or if there are no pedestrians…

Optional parking on top of cones

Your choice – between or on top of cones.

Space between vehicles is negligible

Bonus points are awarded for vehicles with minimal space between bumpers.

Accidents WILL happen.

Expect some slight scratches or bruises

Clever drivers will gently ease into tiny parking spots, avoiding major warping and scrapes on bumpers and fenders.

And my personal favorite trick for in city driving ~

Always carry duct tape.

It’s true. Duct tape can fix anything.

Despite these captivating photos, drivers in Paris really are amazing. There are few accidents, pedestrians remain unharmed, vehicles stay on the road, and traffic flows in seemingly flawless pathways. Hats off to the competent drivers!

count 3 & 4 from the left...very top floor...those are our 2 windows

All along the way, it seemed like we would not actually ever really travel to Paris. But we are finally here! We are in day 3 of trying to get settled and adjusted to big city life with a 9-hour time difference. We have the cutest little (28 sq. meters) apartment in the Latin Quartier, very near Notre Dame and the Pantheon. The apartment is on the 6th floor, top of the building, and occupies 2 of the adorable dormer windows common in Paris buildings. Despite the pint sized accommodations and lack of storage, the address is very cozy and adequate for our needs (a washer is even included – with a drying rack which sets up in the middle of the kitchen floor). Kevin and I will live in this apartment for about 2.5 months while we attend Institute Catholic to study language.

what you can see, from edge to edge, is the length of the kitchen

The address is 27 rue Lacepede, between rue Monge and rue Mouffetard for those who have a map of Paris and wish to see exactly where we are. If you know how to use googlemaps you can actually find our street and walk along it.

Sundays may become a favorite day (besides being the day of our Lord). Our community area has a very neat market day. Not only is there an excellent market square set up with fruits, vegetables, cheeses, meats, breads, flowers…there is also the length of rue Mouffetard arranged with individual flea market tables. The streets are closed to vehicles, and pedestrians take over the narrow road. It seems to be the thing to do on Sunday afternoons. Everyone is out with their wheeled carts or shopping bags, bartering (I’m guessing on this one, as it was all in French) and purchasing household items or food stuffs for the upcoming week. Kevin and I ventured out with bag in hand and managed to communicate enough to purchase bananas, a red pepper, broccoli (yes, Kevin wash helping me, the lover of veggies), green beans, delicious radishes, and carrots with greens on top. I found an old individual coffee brewer to put on top of a cup and add fresh grounds from our family stash (thanks Peeps, for the markouts).

what a view!

We did one load of sheets (ok, one sheet plus 2 pillow cases). It has taken 2 days to dry. Humidity is pretty high right now. Doesn’t matter how long it takes, but the kitchen is pretty crowded with the rack up. We just push it back and forth as we move around. The windows stay open when we are in the apartment for fresh air. But when we leave, they are closed to prevent the roving rain showers from sprinkling our rooms. You just have to  be prepared for rain…it comes as quickly as it goes.

Chad & Amy, our new friends, met us at the airport with a station wagon. They have helped us tremendously – taking us to our apartment, explaining how things work, keeping us awake the first day, going out for a meal, dinner at their apartment (in Massy, where we will be in August), helping us find the stores with items we need…Thank you, God, for friends and helpers.

The only thing missing is our family. Hurry, get your passports!

And for dessert, madeleines avec Nutella!

madeleines with Nutella

Bienvenue a Paris!

the main doors into our building, on rue Lacepede

Now you also know one of our biggest prayer requests. His parents will not let us take him as carry-on when we leave for France…Sigh. They are mean mean parents. (JUST joking). They are not mean. They are very loving for baby Hayden.

Awwww, he's so cute

Kevin loving Baby Hayden

awwww

It is amazing how much we can cram into the 24 hours of each day that the Lord has given us. I’m sure He does not intend for us to be THAT busy. I’m sure I have forgotten some things, many things, but the brain slots are too full to overflowing and much has leaked out. Be still, my heart. Man makes his plans, but the Lord God has the final words on each day. (my paraphrase on Prov. 16:1) Whew.

peace. be still.

He can't believe it all fits...

There it is. Before the door was put on. It’s amazing how much one can cram into an 8x8x4 container. At the same time, it’s amazing how little we are taking with us. And what we will (and already have wished we had) remember and wished we had added to our collection of stuff. It’s just stuff. Things that could make life easier and more comfortable. Months, ok a few years, of making lists and considering and asking what would be best to take…and this is what it boils down to. Yes, you do see TP (it’s a great filler, ok?).

To tell you the truth, by the time we receive these belongings (and haul them up probably several flights of stairs?!!), we will most likely wonder why we packed this, and this, and this…

Kind of freeing, not to have to worry or take care of stuff.

Collin & Chelsie - the light holders!

Kevin screwing the door closed

Both are amazed at how much stuff fit!

Bye-bye stuff!

Angie plus a permanent marker

Look in the way back for the row of windows

If you squint your eyes just right, and look way in the back, behind the front buildings, you will see a bank of tall windows. That is dorm 37. The home of the few couples and the many singles…us being the oldest couple of all. I don’t know what that means, but I’m trying not to read ‘their age will help keep things settled down’ into that thought. This building (aka – the place of the flood, see previous article) is our soon to be former home of the last 2 months. What a wonderful time of meeting and greeting like minded friends – married and single.

Already, I am homesick for the close comraderie of the music, laughter, smells of cooking, singing, doors slamming, shared experiences…but especially the friends. It seems impossible to go so deep so fast in so short a time. But it’s true. Our common bond of belief in Jesus opens doors and hearts quicker than the blink of an eye. Or two eyes.

Take, for example, the numerous offers of wheels (a much-appreciated commodity here on our way-out-in-the-middle of not much campus) ~ even a spare key for use whenever! That is love and trust. Well, methinks pity for the old folks.  Open doors, game nights, hanging out, sharing, ”do you have some____? fill in the blank“, mystery foods in the common kitchenettes, group worship, folding each other’s laundry…I thought I would miss being in a quad apartment, but the chance to live with even more family members was awesome. A very excellent thing about the dorm is the lower rate of germ abundance. We had some illnesses, but not nearly as much as the constantly recycling bacteria/virus pool in the quads. Pass the hand sanitizer please.

I hate that our time is over and we are being scattered to the four winds. To my new friends – and family – bon voyage. Until we meet again. With much love and prayers…

And for those of you who KNOW Kevin, he really needed the dorm experience.