Market style

Basket full of goodness from Frankton Markets.

I think I like biking to the Frankton Market on Saturday mornings because I can (kind of) pretend I'm still in Europe.
As a uni student, I used to go to the veggie market in Wellington, but I didn't really understand the magic of markets until I headed overseas.

When I went to St Gaudens (in South-West France) as an English language assistant, I stumbled upon the markets one Thursday morning.  Actually, they spread through the whole town centre, so it would've been hard not to find them.
It became a part of weekly routine for me - like it is for so many French people.  Plus, if you're trying to learn French, you have to talk a lot more at the market than you do at a supermarket.
And, when you can get your fruit and veg at a market like what you see below, why would you want to go inside a supermarket and fight with everyone and their trolleys?  (Plus, there never seemed to be enough checkouts open).

Thursday market in the main square of St-Gaudens, France.

Thursday market in St-Gaudens, France.

I lived so close to the town centre there that I didn't need a bike to get to the markets there.  But if I had, this was my trusty steed.

French vélo.

In La Carolina, my town in the South of Spain, I adopted the same attitude.  Except, I think I took fewer market-related pictures.
Actually, looking through, it seems I took no market-related photos during my whole time in Spain.
Maybe I just market-photoed myself out in France, or perhaps  I was busy with other things.

Dos cervezas, por favor...

Y ponme una tapilla, camarero.

Paella in a pub - the Spanish Sunday roast.

Caseta at feria.

A sweet, sweet paella.

And, since I found them... a few more market pics from various areas of Southern France.

Covered market in Toulouse.

Flea market outside the St Sernin Basilisque in Toulouse.

Markets in the streets of Marseille.

Near the flower market in Nice.