Chevalière

Avallon sounds like the kind of place that should be in a sci-fi movie, but in reality it's a small town east of us, and home to our most accessible reasonably sized market. At first we wander around in the Place Charles de Gaulle, passing stalls selling French pop CDs, humorous underwear, and a variety of very obviously knock-off goods. It takes us a while to realise the food market is inside an old round building off the square, and once inside we're hit by the riot of veg, cheese, bread and roasting chickens.

The extravaganza continues on the other side of the building outside, but after mulling over options we decide to head for an excellent fish stall, walking away with some sea bream and cooked prawns. We augment the bounty with a couple of types of tomato, green beans, a melon, and a couple of cheeses (La Pierre qui Vire and Fourme d'Ambert, which it turns out is one of the oldest types of cheese in France, and particular to Burgundy).

Markets in France are a distinctly different affair to the UK. Not necessarily in terms of quality, or indeed sometimes price, but just because back home they're seen through the farmers market prism as something a bit hipster, or distinctly middle class. Here they're just the norm. The squadrons of people parking up and wandering in purposefully, basket in hand, all ages, all sexes, is just great to see. There's no pretension, and no inference, it's just how so many people shop here. I'm not suggesting it's some sort of grocery utopia, supermarkets still probably account for more sales, but it feels right that all these small towns have retained their weekly (at least) chance to shop (to the extent the town signs as you enter mention when the markets are).

* * *

It's six years since we were last in Burgundy, staying almost in the heart of the Morvan that time. The area was at the centre of the French resistance effort in the second world war, and after reading on the subject on that last stay, I wanted to visit the Musée de la Résistance, back in the Morvan at St Brisson.

As it was shut for lunch there was time for a walk alongside one of the manmade 60s lakes in the park. The walk itself was pleasant, though again devoid of wildlife that would pepper such a walk back home. But for once wildlife wasn't the key aim, rather there is a small chapel a third of the way round. In here 12 maquis, as the resistance was known here, a name going back to Napoleonic times, sheltered for most of a winter. 12 men with virtually no food, no heating, and a phonograph.

It seemed odd to pad around the room, the single stone room, that housed people simply trying to stay alive, with nearby shoreline limiting fishermen to three fish per visit.

The museum itself was small, but intriguing, and more than an hour was spent perusing testimonies, reading remarkable Nazi and Vichy proclamations and pondering whole villages in the Morvan being martyred in retribution for maquis activity.

Yeah. I know how to have a relaxed and uplifting holiday....

* * *

An evening trip to the supermarket was called for, whereupon I stumbled across a horse show. Dozens, maybe a hundred, tied up in the 'allée arbre', some with foals by their side. Those showing are identically dressed, all in white save for the shock of a red tie. I wander for a short while in the evening sun taking it all in, then a later Google session shows it as being the 103rd annual Auxerois horse show. Wonderful stuff, 100 females on show today, around 30 stallions tomorrow. I love these random discoveries.