The auction lot. The Red Barn. The Jockey Lot. Salins. Gambetta. The one on US1. Panjiayuan. That street leading from one temple to another in Bangkok. And Luyuan. These are some of the lovely flea markets I’ve had the pleasure of perusing over the years. I don’t think I’m going to find the missing Renior or a priceless coin. I like to look.
I can’t remember if I ever bought anything at the ones when I was a kid. Any coins my sister and I had were always spent at the snack booth.
The Jockey Lot is like an immersion course in southern culture.
At Salins, we wandered, but the only thing I remember buying those Sundays were the roast chickens on the way home. Mmmm, 20 roasting chickens with the juices dripping all over the potatoes along the bottom of the rack. Nirvana.
At US1, I bought one of those blue glass insulators that used to connect power lines. I put it on my window sill in Lexington and smiled when the sun shined through it.
I will visit Panjiayuan again at some point. Where else am I going to buy my giant Happy Buddha? Maybe along that street near Wat Pho.
And at Luyuan in Shenyang, I have purchased very few things, a lucky pig and a slingshot among them. I go to wander, to look, to see, to wonder, to laugh. We go and are stared at, talked about, asked questions of, wondered about, laughed at. Come to think of it, I think they did that at the Jockey Lot too.
Enjoy the pictures from the ipod – a little grainy in the enlarged version, but enlightening just the same.