Every Saturday in Rennes, rain or shine, vendors emerge to vie for spots at the Marché des Lices. Yseult says that this is where she consistently goes to buy groceries for the week ahead. This place, however, is not at all an ordinary farmer's market. It is rather a sensory, linguistic, and emotionally charged experience that also happens to sell more flowers, food, and Breton specialities than one could imagine. The marché expands from Saint Anne in all directions down the crooked streets, the nostalgic bellow of bagpipes echoing off the cobblestones. On this overcast and windy morning, the Celtic spirit of Brittany is tangible.
The Rennais are an interesting kind. One minute, they are exercising their quintessential french aloofness, avoiding all eye contact and continuing on their mission of finding the right bunch of herbs. Yet at the next instant, they are engaging you in random conversation and strolling along as though they have known you for years.
Perhaps one of the best aspects of this market though is that anything you ask to taste, you will be given. The vendors coax you with an exuberant
"Vas-y! Vas-y!"
"Kouign amann?"
This is Brittany though, and a Breton market would not be complete without "les fruits de mer."
There is also an open room off the side of the Place des Lices where musicians come and play pieces together on their flutes and violins, filling up the room quickly with those who are happy to just sit and listen.
Afterwards, we head back to unpack everything that was bought after our expedition, as well as make galettes de blé noir with ham and gruyère. Yseult teaches me to fold them a certain way, and it's a delight simply to watch her cook them. She also prepares after lunch what she calls "a real french coffee"...a strong espresso.
Alors, je suis trop contente ici.
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