Braderie – denied
So it’s time for the ropey holiday snaps. I spent a week in the super-cute French seaside town of Collioure. I’ve seen it described as the French St Ives, and it is, but sunnier. A historic fishing village overlooking three pretty beaches, its a maze of alleyways between the maison du pecheur, tall local houses painted in cute colours.
While we were there we saw posters all over the town for the Collioure Braderie. I believe Braderie roughly translates as a clearout, and in Lille the Braderie is this crazy boot-sale bonanza. There were also posters advertising a vide grenier illustrated with pictures of vintage French crappola. Whoop!
Most days this was the view for the balcony, but on vide grenier day it rained. Torrentially. All day. I looked out sadly and imagined all those vintage French linens wet through, all those antique prams washed down to the sea.
The drainpipes in Collioure look like this, and boy were they busy:
So, in short (too late), no braderie for me. The next day the sun came out again, and looking from the balcony I was momentarily excited to see…
Le junk? No, just someone moving house. Maybe next year…
