Tuesday morning is Market Day in Pont-Aven.  As usual, the day starts out clear and sunny, but soon the drizzle begins.  My sister-in-law and brother-in-law, my husband and I drive the rental Fiat into town.

But the streets of Post-Aven are bustling, every spare inch has a small car in it, there seem to be find NO parking spaces in all of Pont-Aven.  Finally we find a spot, squeeze the car in somehow.  Jane grabs our market basket and we go to market, like regular French people.

Brittany, in the northwest corner of France is not like any other French province.  Despite the drizzly cool weather, Brittany's rocky shores and sandy beaches are popular for summer beach holidays, beautiful little French children romping naked on the sand. 

In English, we call this region Brittany, in French Bretagne, in the Breton language, Breizh.  It was at one time called Lesser, or Little Britain, one of the six Celtic nations.  In the Neolithic era, it was a center of megalithic culture and is still dotted with standing stones.  (We'll talk more about this in a later installment.)  Later, it was the territory of several Celtic tribes.

This Celtic influence can still be felt today.  Road signs are still bilingual, French and Breton.  The Breton music has an Irish feel -- sometimes even bagpipes are heard.

  We stroll the open market, delighting in the abundance of fruit and vegetables, chickens on the rotisserie, Breton cider (we didn't really take to that beverage), and displays of traditional Breton striped shirts -- which everyone wears, not just the tourists.  But while there are vacationers here, they are mostly French.

Please join us for a stroll around the market. . .

(Translation:  "From our farm, raised on grains and liberty!")

 (I think this loaf might be large enough to feed a family.)

At least five French women, their shopping baskets looped over their arms, wait at a truck where the vendor is selling meats.

 "I don't know about you," my sister-in-law says, "but when I see five French women in line on market day, I say, GET IN THAT LINE."

I laugh.  Of course we get in line.  We wait, listening to the women placing their very specific orders, gazing at the displays of fresh veal, ham, sausages, and some meats we can't even identify. When our turn comes, we collaborate with our college French to buy sliced veal to cook for dinner.

We enjoy free samples of kouign amann, a buttery cake typical of the region.