I have written a number of times about the markets in Ésperaza. They are my favourite. The link here includes some photos of when we visited in early January this year with our Australian friends Michael and Jeanie. They too enjoyed it very much. But, I doubt they would have enjoyed it as much today, because there were hundreds of people there and it was easy to get lost, and hard to get around. There was certainly no hope of getting a seat at a table for a coffee this morning.

But, I still loved it.

 Everything looked so colourful today; a vast contrast to the winter appearance.

And luckily, Mick wore one of his red shirts so I could spot him easily.

Wisely, we had decided to rendez-vous with our friends at a prominent spot, in front of the bar, and go our separate ways. I found my favourite non-dairy cheese in exactly the same location being sold by the same woman and her son. I have been to dozens of markets in France this year, and I can only find it here and in nearby Prades.

Mick and I recognised many of the stalls and venders as they were in exactly the same place as when we were there last time, but there were many many more as well.

Including this donkey trying to hide under the shade of a tree. I am still unsure what he was there for, but I don’t think it was for riding.

There were also more buskers and singing groups, of varying musical capabilities, each adding to the feel of the market.

Mick and I had never seen this clever van before for example.

Despite there being more than a thousand people in Ésperaza centre ville this morning, would you believe that as Mick and I walked past the patisserie window we spotted our French tutor, Monsieur R and his wife, sitting at the table in the front window.  We knew they came to these markets on most Sundays and that it was possible for us to catch up with them, but it was pretty amazing considering the crowds. We squeezed into the shop to say a quick hello and explain that we could not stay as we had to meet our friends, and to let them know when we were leaving and when Mick and I would be returning to Fenouillet etc. As Mick and I headed out of the shop after saying ‘à bientôt‘ to find Derek and Helen, I commented to Mick that Monsieur R had only corrected me four times and his wife once. Obviously, my French still has a long way to go.

Our friend whose home we house sat in Fenouillet, had told us the previous day that we absolutely had to go this quaint restaurant, located on an off-the-beat track before we finished our stay in Caudiès. Our week-long program is pretty packed, so it had to be today.

The restaurant is called Poulet Bicyclette and  was only 10 minute drive from the markets in the direction back to Caudiès.

We were told it was very popular and that we possibly couldn’t get in, but I had been able to make a reservation. That’s the hire car we are using with the view down towards Quillan. It certainly didn’t look busy.

But as we followed a steep pebbled path upwards through the trees we saw other parking spaces, and some cars. The signs though had indicated these were the handicap parking spaces. People seemed to ignore that, and to remind us this was France, cars were parked higgeldy-piggely anywhere they could, almost blocking the driveway. Who cares??

Our table was overlooking a beautiful pond filled with wonderfully vibrant-coloured fish. And, to our surprise and unpreparedness, the clouds had rolled in and the temperature had dropped significantly. We were a little chilly.

We each chose the plat du jour – plate of the day, which was slow-cooked veal shoulder with olives. And we agreed it was exactly what the ‘doctor had ordered’. No wine was consumed with lunch today, which surprised our waitress, but the boys did brave one beer each.

We then headed home for a rest, and to pass a quiet afternoon (a day of rest), as we have a meal booked tomorrow at our friend’s home in Fenouillet, and she has invited our other mutual friends so Derek and Helen can meet them as well.

Located at the edge of the carpark of the Chambres d’Hôtes where we are staying is a fenced off area for the owner’s pet sheep. On our return, Mick and Helen and Derek decided to take a closer look.

I was unsure what they were talking about. I was in need of the bathroom and Mick had the key. But, the ever-inquisitive Mick decided to check out the fencing material and got a big surprise.

The fence was electric and he almost landed on his bottom. Phew!

I remember the Russian owner saying last night (or early this morning) that he wanted to come back to explain to us why living in Russia had greater freedom than living in France or Australia. Now that sounds interesting. So we will have to wait and see how many people they are feeding tonight and if we are still awake!!