Issue No. 16

I nibbled on a flaky golden croissant for
breakfast on the terrace of the hotel where
I watched a couple of local fishermen down
“keep me awake for a week” espressos.
Across the Basin, the clock on the wall of
the restaurant read the same time as it did
when I arrived, the same time as it does
every day. I felt like it was saying, don’t
worry about rushing, take your time, there’s
nowhere you need to be except here,
enjoying yourself. The word idyllic sprang
to mind.
I had heard that Isle-sur-la-Sorgue has lots
of antique shops and flea markets. I’d seen
some lovely photos of the town. But
nothing prepared me for the sight when I
walked a few yards along the road from the
hotel and turned into Avenue des Quatre
Otages. Filling the pavement and spilling
into the road were stalls piled with things I
wanted to take home from furniture to
antiques heaven
paintings, ornaments, knick knacks, china,
textiles and this and that. Every alley, every
side road, every entrance seems to lead to
another antiques warehouse or shop or a
whole cluster of shops in antiques villages.
Shady squares and ancient buildings - full
of stuff! It’s like the Antiques Road Show
come to life right in front you times a
hundred – or rather times 300 as that’s the
number of permanent dealers here.
And as if that’s not enough, every Sunday
there’s an outdoor antiques market and
there are international antiques shows
every Easter and in August when around
200 more sellers arrive so you can fill your
boots. It's a popular event and a stall holder
told me that each year, a foreign Prince
arrives with his several wives to shop. He
gives each of them a huge shipping
container to fill with antiques and ship back
home. That's what I call retail therapy!