Journal #7

The Markets
Food- Writers- Books

I was not particularly certain what to expect in our shopping adventures, but I was optimistic because I was told flea markets in Paris are different than flea markets back home, and I abhor the flea markets back home. So I went into the whole ordeal fairly positive, especially because the first markets we were visiting were food markets and we all planned to grab some food and I was ravenously hungry.

Knowing that the markets opened at nine and closed fairly early, me and my team made a plan to head out earliar than the rest of the group so we wouldn't miss anything. Bad idea, We headed out around 8:40 and arrived to our first destination a little after 9. No one was setup, We could smell the food being prepared behind closed doors and pulled curtains/tarp from the outside stands and yet we couldn't buy anything. Disappointing. We decided to wander around anyway. The workers refused to acknowledge our existence as they readied themselves to open I'm assuming sometime around 11 or noon. These markets were not very big, but it was quaint and cozy, tucked away into a small cove between tall apartment buildings. The prices that were on dispay didn't look to bad and if the food tasted anything like it smelled, I would definitely go back for lumch

Next we went to the markets that we all referred  to as the writers market. We again, didn't know what to expect but we hopped on the metro, after stopping at a boulangerie for croissants of course, and made our way to the market streets. Again, they were still getting ready. At this point it was after 10 and we were all pretty confused as to why the internet and book warned us about getting to these places early. From what we could see, vendors were setting up clothes, handbags, and food shops. Me and my group sat down on some steps over looking the two main market streets and ate our boulangerie pastries while we plotted out our plans. "I think there's some more shops on the other side of that building," Ina suggests. So we got up shook off our flakey croissant crumbs, and headed in that direction. There were no shops to be found. We really weren't having much luck on our shopping adventures, but we were still in good spirits because we had saved the best for last, Books!

Once getting off the metro for our last destination, we walked towards the book markets, passing vendors a long the way that are usually planted along the Seine. We had seen them numerous times always avoiding, assuming they were the tourists traps we all were warned again and again about. About half way down the road they were lined on I noticed they all were selling the same things. Books.
"Ugh, guys. I think this is the book market," I said.
"I think you're right, but these guys are always here," Raven added.
Apparently the book markets had been right under our noses the entire time and we had never realized. The books were very old and all in french, but they were beautiful and classic. They also sold postcards and stickers and posters out front before you got to the books, which probably is the reason  we never realized they were book stands.

We ended our trip standing over the Seine on the original love lock bridge, examining the art and wondering what we would journal about. It wa in this experience that I realized everything is a story, even if things don't go as planned. We all, with our failed attempts at markets shopping/observing, each had our own experiences and so much to write about.