We spent a day in the old heart of this city, which we'd visited quite briefly when we were in France with Linny's family. The market is exceptional and we provisioned for our stay in the countryside about an hour away. Annick, a good friend of Robin and Donna, was a wonderful guide and we looked forward to the next days under her wing.
The enormous public market is an artifact of the time of Eiffel and girders. A new lightness had arrived for architecture and many of the public markets were built then—frequently a framework of ornamental cast iron covered with glass. Spacious and light.
Our last stop in the city before heading home to cook what we'd bought at the market was a museum that included the piece of furniture that looks like a stack of books on legs. The top book is the lid to this ingeniously disguised toilet pot. Some say that literary criticism has always been like this and that this representational art is only making that point. Sounds like farting too near the candle to me.
