Strawberries, Watermelon, and Asparagus

(This is from like a month ago.... I write but I'm too lazy to post.)

So today I went to the open air market at Bastille to buy some fruits and vegetables. It’s normally quite fun, if not slightly hectic and panic inducing. There are a lot of people and   a lot of vendors all hollering out discounts. Seeing that it’s spring (or whatever the French call spring here) there were some new things at the market. Along with the allergies and insects springs along brings with it asparagus and off season watermelon from Costa Rica. These will eventually be my downfall. 

I saw one vendor selling whole watermelons for five euros and, like a panther stalking prey, I sprung. In retrospect, watermelons at this time of the year is too good to be true. However, I still went ahead and bought one, but in the process of carrying the watermelon over the counter from the vender to myself I knocked over a “panier” (read: basket) of strawberries. Luckily, the weird mix of clumsy and grace my parents gave me allowed me to catch the strawberries. With my leg. Mashing them into my pants. Staining them. The rest of the basket was saved, but the amount of awkwardness that comes with having a watermelon in hand and a basket of freshly thigh-smushed strawberries in the other was too much. I made a weird dying noise and shouted out “merde!” (literally: shit!)

I think the vendor took pity on me and reassured me that it was okay “Ce n’est pas grave! Ce n’est pas grave!” (Literarily: It’s not serious! It’s not serious!) I apologized, wished him a good day, and got away from there as fast as possible. I would have ran, but there were too many people for that to be possible, plus running is not a thing here. 

I spent about an fifteen minutes looking for asparagus at the place. I’m not sure it’s it’s just a French thing, but I could only find thick white stalks of asparagus. I’m a bougie person that likes my asparagus pencil-thin and green. Like models on St. Patrick’s day. Asparagus is my favorite vegetable, but thick stalks are tough and woody and white asparagus is too bitter. I wonder if the French are trying to undermine me though asparagus. Anyways, after wandering around the market I finally found a vendor which sold green asparagus. No awkward interactions besides me not being sure how to say apsaagus in French. 

I am currently sitting the café across the street writing this. I needed to de-stress. I’ll going into my non-existent spring break plans later.