This morning I left the apartment to get some more snacks (I have more than made up for my under eating in the south east coast). It looked cloudy outside so I put on a jumper and a jacket, kept my umbrella with me and then walked out the door. To my surprise, by the time that I got to the Place du Marche, it was sunny. There was a little market taking place, with a few fruit and vegetable sellers, a baker and some little trucks selling cheese, meat and Asian street food. I passed through, only enjoying the ambiance, because I know that I’m moving on again in a couple days time.
I continued walking, and the sun faded in and out of the streets as the clouds passed over it. The shadows moving from sharp to soft, like a wave rising and falling through the town. I took the food I needed quickly and returned back through the street which passes the city hall. The city hall in each French town is called the hôtel de ville or mairie and it’s usually one of the more beautiful buildings in the town. The one in Montélimar is quite pretty, with a fountain out the front of cream coloured, stately looking buildings. On top of the doors, the French flag waves about in today’s strong breeze. As I began to enter the streets of the old town, I accidentally look to my right. There I see a beautiful café. A glass box, with perfect little wooden tables and chairs accented by little jars of white flowers. Inside, I see the clean lines of a glass cabinet full of pastries and cakes. I look up, Yannick Begel Patisserie. How did I miss this in the last 8 days?
The day is too beautiful, I decide to drop off my shopping bag at the apartment and go straight back. I was not disappointed, the lady behind the counter was very kind and there were an array of beautiful looking cakes and pastries. The croissants looked like little baskets, plump and round, seemingly weaved together with a spectrum of golden brown strands. Natural, chocolate, rose praline all nestled into little hampers… I didn’t know which one to choose. I finally decided to go classic and choose a croissant with a long coffee, but then my eyes unwillingly strayed to the glass cabinet.
There stood neat lines of pretty cakes. I have not been in the mood to eat a cake for a long time, but when I saw how beautiful they were – I just couldn’t resist. Lemon, pecan, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry… to name only a few. My mouth watered, and I knew that whatever choice I made – I would have to come back and try more anyway. I chose pecan and then was told to settle myself at a table and wait for the arrival of the food.
I decided to sit by the window on a high chair, so I could look out at the people walking past and my back could be to the store. I wanted to truly be transported out of the shop, and into my own world, and I succeeded. I got out a book which I’ve started reading, the Art of Losing by Alice Zeniter, which is about the Algerian War. I sat, dipped my croissant in my coffee (sorry to anyone who’s offended) and ate while reading. I couldn’t take my eyes off the pages… there was so much history that I had never known about. After I finished everything, which was thoroughly delicious, I took a little time to watch people pass the window. The sun reflected off the glass and glowed, lighting up my face. So many different people, each with a different look, a different style, living different lives… but all existing at this moment in France. One little boy caught me day dreaming, and waved as he walked by holding his mother’s hand. I waved back.
I started to realise why I have fallen in love with France. Because this country, on the outside, carries its stereotype well. It’s a stereotype that appears to be as deep and varied as its landscape. It appears to be full of history, French history, as if it’s giving itself away completely. But really, you come here and realise that there is yet more. More layers, more density, over its shiny crisp shell… much like the croissant I enjoyed. And similarly so, I always enjoy the deepest layers the most. I looked out the window one last time before I left… I am only scratching the surface of a country that I now call home.
Leave a Reply