one of the most beautiful towns on the French Riviera
Villages near to Menton: Gorbio
A so well caught slice of life. I remember the same van in my grand-mother's village far far inside Britanny, all the inhabitants got out of their houses when they heard the hoot. Now, there is no one still living in these villages...Do these ladies speak French or Provençal?
Alice, they speak French but many also speak what is called Gorbarine. I presume a sort of dialect. A new village club has recently been formed to protect this language.
I have never in this lifetime seen the butcher shop pull up and park. I have never seen a butcher shop of wheels. This is almost like a revelation from God.It is also another look at life in your city. Not everyone runs around in skimpy clothes looking exactly like they stepped out of Vogue magazine. These two look like your run-of-the-mill* ladies anywhere in the world.*run-of-the-mill: Mills producing cloth had an 'average' cloth sold for a variety of uses. Thus it was the run-of-the-mill or average cloth. Cheapest too.Happy 74th Birthday today to me.
When I lived in Moree (northern NSW, not northern France!) there was a fish mongers van that used to come weekly and park in a spot in the main street. Hope things are improving with your iMac!
One thing I really miss about childhood is the necessity to go from store to store to get groceries or to make other purchases. Granted, supermarkets and malls are indeed convenient, but we've lost the art of conversation and the feeling of community because of it. I was delighted on my first trip to Paris and Italy as an adult to get the same ambience back again. It seems as though the only people who have a remnant of what I had in the past are adolescents who congregate in malls, but it's not quite the same thing!
Hi Jilly! Amazing post! Have seen it for fish, but never for meat... ;))Pardon the ignorance; at the Fête de la Branda do people eat «brandade de morue»?... ;)Blogtrotter
GMG, no the Fete de la Branda is a festival to celebrate 'branda' which is the eau de vie, the marc, ie the strong stuff distilled from the pips and stalks of the grape vines. Blows your head off!
Jill,Fantastic Post !So"deep France". So memories!So"South village French! Las ! Ladies"en voie d'extincsion" TOUT y est!
6pm!!A bit late to start a Boeuf Bourguignon!!!I 've seen a very nice french movie with this kind of truck:"Le fils de l"epicier"
I love this idea of everything being fresh and providing time for socializing.As for my photo puzzle, my hubby pointed out that the original image was too small (doy) so I've uploaded the photo differently. You can click to enlarge and maybe that will help!
..steak and frites with salade de tomate for us tomorrow night!!!
Only 1 hours a week? I hope the butcher has a shop somewhere else in town.Love the photo of the two ladies shopping by the van.
I like the steak and frites idea but Jilly, I know you would pass on this whole meat wagon, oui?These two ladies are so wonderful though. I would love to hear their conversations.
Wonderful ordinary daily life shot Jilly.
That is very interesting! We don't have those butcher cars around here.
I really miss the home delivery system that used to connect neighbourhoods before the days of the huge chain supermarkets. I remember the horse and cart that the baker used to ride on and the greengrocer's van too. I'vve never seen a butcher's van but what a fabulous idea.I couldn't help but notice the lady on the left's swollen legs. Poor thing.
What a great photo! That is a really neat service.
Very interesting to see a butcher van. It is lovely to see the meat placed in chillers. I feel safe to buy meat from him. :)
When I was a little girl growing up just outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, we had a "meat man" and an "egg man," both of whom came around on a given day in their little vans. Both would clang a bell, and out my grandmother and I would come. I was fascinated with these mobile stores.
nice shot! It reminds me so much my childwood...Votre photo me donne le sentiment poignant d'une époque qui se termine, celle des blouses bleues des grands-mères.
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