To market, to market

The morning of Mimi's wedding was free, so my friends and I decided to drive to the nearby town of Arles to see the Roman ruins, an idea that delighted the Asterix fan in me. There was a Dutch connection there, too—Vincent Van Gogh had lived there towards the end of his life, producing some of his most brilliant and intense work while living in Arles.

Entering Arles, we ran into awful traffic, and had to endure the electronic nagging of our GPS device as we kept deviating from its frenetically recalculated routes. I had set the voice controls to American English and hearing it slaughter the pronunciation of French street names was both maddening and hilarious. 

When we finally found parking, however, we discovered the reason for all the rerouted traffic... a Saturday farmer's market!

Marlon and I were instantly catapulted to heaven. We love markets, and it's rare to see such beautiful and abundant produce as we did that Saturday morning. Among the bounty were melons bigger than my head...

Fragrant, blushing garlic...

Luscious fruits and berries...

A number of varieties of perfectly plump tomatoes...

including some varieties that were completely new to us.

I love my life, my new city and its markets, but for the first time I actually felt like packing up and moving to France. I was positively green with envy. So much good food! And it's like this every Saturday?

The array of dry goods was also pretty spectacular. Lavender sachets being sold at souvenir shops for €8-10 were available for €2 apiece. All eight of us raided that stall like there was no tomorrow. Compare before...

... and after. What is pakyaw?

Marlon took home several small glass bottles of spice mixtures, including some labeled for specific uses like with omelettes, fish, and steak.

He was thrilled to find a stall specializing entirely in salts, and bought some black and pink Himalayan salts to add to our already-full spice rack at home.

We were getting hungry just strolling through the market, so we decided to split up and buy our lunch there. There were so many choices.

I was momentarily entranced by these teeny tiny baby clams...

... but I eventually settled on paella. Yes, Arles is that close to Spain.

The eight of us gathered around an old gazebo and carousel in the sun and sat down to an immensely satisfying lunch. Afterwards, it was time to walk off the calories by exploring Arles' old town. 

So many beautiful details, full of history and character.

Modern architecture can move and impress me, but I will always have a special place in my heart for old places and things.

Interspersed among the narrow streets and quintessentially French buildings of Arles are ancient Roman ruins, like the amphitheater...

... and the coliseum, built in 90 AD. It's still used today for events like horse shows and bullfights. A Roman coliseum, built in France, used for Spanish traditions. Just... wow.

We managed to squeeze in a quick visit to the Espace Van Gogh before leaving Arles. Formerly the main hospital of Arles, it was where Vincent Van Gogh was committed after infamously cutting off his ear.

At this small garden, immortalized by Van Gogh on canvas, our day as tourists ended, and our day as singers began. After all, we had a wedding to catch that afternoon!