Conversations in Provence inevitably turn to local markets (and food and wine, of course). Did you see the plump figs at the small stand at the far end of the bassin? Who is your favorite cheese man? Which Tuesday market do you favor? Where can I get a good head of lettuce? Which market has the best espadrilles? Where do you park at L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue?This summer, markets still dominated many of my exchanges, but a question surfaced that I had never been asked: have you ever been to the market in Pertuis?

 

Now, for me, there were only four reasons to (occasionally) venture into Pertuis: 1) to go to the Zone Industrial where one finds, for example, the SFR store and the Hyper-U; 2) to pick up someone from the bus station; 3) to eat Vietnamese food; or 4) to play squash. I had never thought about going to the market in Pertuis.

There is a growing concern, among some of the local folks with whom I spoke, that the authenticity of many of the markets in the Luberon is declining. The Lourmarin market, long a favorite market of people in the area, appears to be the impetus for much of this worry. A surprisingly large number of local folks were quite vociferous in their opinion that my favorite market has gone to the dogs…uh, I mean tourists!

Bearing in mind that I am a tourist—and that I might be guilty of making room between my fresh dorade fish and saucissons de sanglier for a large sac of tres cher monogrammed lavender sachets that no self-respecting French person would ever buy in such a large quantity—some people might have treaded lightly in expressing their feelings.

Still, many people made it clear that they were most put off by the disproportionate number of tourists to locals and the large number of vendors who cater directly to tourists, clearly a symbiotic relationship fueled by the immense popularity of this particular market. Do locals really buy gadgets like those portable fans that, after sufficient priming, spew a fine mist of water? Probably not, but there was a big crowd around this particular vendor on one hot June morning this summer (including, dare I admit, my friend Mary and me).Other complaints are more pragmatic in nature. The seemingly endless parade of tourists week after week, especially June through September, raises prices. The same strawberries are significantly moins cher in markets less favored by tourists and their fat wallets, I’m told.

And the parking….oh, the parking. After mid-morning, finding a parking spot is as hard as finding a perfectly ripe espoisse in the near-by Super-U. (Parking remains free in Lourmarin, I hasten to add, in contrast to other popular markets like Gordes, Saint-Remy, and Aix-en-Provence, where it is highly improbable that you’ll find a place to park that doesn’t involve a fee.)

Navigating your way through the Lourmarin after mid-morning is, admittedly, challenging. Elbowing one’s way past the crowds that surround the cart of cute puppies (likely tranquilized) staged to tug at your heartstrings while you reach in your pocket to make a donation and waiting in long lines in the blazing sun while listening to customers speaking every language but your own is just not appealing to a community for whom going to market is as much a social experience as it is a grocery trip.

French friends—and English and American ones, alike—told me that the task of going to the market to pick up some fresh vegetables, sausages, olives, a rotisserie chicken, cheese, and an artisanal pain de campagne for Friday night’s dinner is so daunting that they often opt for the Super-U.The conversations eventually circled back around to, “where does one find an authentic market?” And the answer I heard from several unrelated sources was, “Pertuis.”

Pertuis, known as the Porte du Luberon, is situated in what was once a very strategic location, between the important southern strongholds of Marseille and Aix-en-Provence and points north. It continued to be the door to the Luberon until recently when roads were built to circumvent Pertuis. It is the largest community in the Luberon, with a population just under 20,000, and is referred to as the capital of the Pays d’Aigues, (the southeastern corner of the Luberon). A tourist destination, it is not.Most tour books do not even mention Pertuis. So I suppose the Office de Tourisme should be grateful that The Michelin Guide to Provence devotes a column inch of text to Pertuis, mentioning the 13th-century clock tower, the 16th-century Église Saint-Nicolas, first built in the 12th century, and the remains of a medieval castle. I would add that there are some lovely buildings in the town center left over from its prosperous 17th century days (but Pertuis is a far cry from the “opulent town” with a “similar feeling to Aix-en-Provence,” that a well-known website describes it as).

My curiosity was piqued. What would I find in the Pertuis market?Glen Kendall, head of the Provence branch of Calcutta Rescue and part-time resident of nearby Grambois, told me that the market in Pertuis is what he imagines a town market in France should be.

“Every Friday it takes over the entire center of the town,” Kendall said and elaborated, “On offer is everything from vine-ripened vegetables to rotisserie chicken, sausages from the Alsace, 100 different kinds of cheese, garlic presses, sun glasses, farm-fresh eggs, mountains of very fresh fish and shell fish, thimbles, sexy ladies underwear, and about anything else customers might need for their daily lives.”

“It’s a very practical market,” someone who works in a winery in Ansouis told me. “More practical than pretty.”Still at the winery, I asked if the Pertuis market was like the market in Apt, a market I have often described as “practical,” to which she said “no” and explained that she felt the Apt market also catered to tourists.

“The whole community is there,” Kendall later went on to report. “You rub elbows with ladies with headscarves covered to their ankles, wives of the international scientists at the big fusion project nearby, business people, teenagers plugged into their phones, tourists speaking different languages, farmers and their wives, the local police, politicians running for office, OAPs* and French housewives carefully selecting every single melon for its ripeness.”

Now champing at the bit to see the Pertuis market and to understand, first-hand, why the locals with whom I had spoken saw it as more “real” than neighboring markets, good friend and photographer Pamela O’Neill and I drove 18 kilometers (about 12 miles) to Pertuis. It wasn’t a terribly practical decision, considering we were based in Lourmarin—where market day is also Friday—but, heck, I felt like some Vietnamese food anyway!The market is easy to find. It runs along Cours de la République, on either side of Pertuis’ main drag, Avenue Victor Hugo. It extends several blocks toward the center of town, turning right on a small street (perhaps Rue Voltaire).

A conviviality among the vendors at the Pertuis’ market was immediately apparent. Loud banter could be heard as we began our stroll throughout the market. When I exceeded the capacity of my French skills while purchasing a cantaloupe, one vendor shouted to a neighboring vendor to come over “avec ton anglais.” When Pam took a photo of a man behind his cheese counter, the three neighboring vendors laughed and reminded him to smile (before they found themselves posing for the camera). Everyone was helpful in giving directions (and, in fact, we were asked for directions!).

Kendall had also described the vendors as very friendly. “If [a customer] asks, ‘how do you cook this?’ there are at least 4 different answers, all passionately expressed, sometimes all at the same time – ‘…my mother always…,’ ‘...non, non, non it is necessary to ….,’, ‘…the only way to prepare that is to…’ all in a wonderful Provençal accent.”We found a couple of exceptions to this affable ambience that Kendall had noted (and that we had initially experienced). In one case, a strongly worded reprimand was directed at a man who, I gathered, was the husband of the woman shouting (in what sounded like a North African patois). The (presumed) husband had agreed to let me take his photo with his spices, but before I could get the camera to my eye, she had made it patently clear that he would not be the subject of anyone’s photos. He acquiesced and I scurried away as she continued her rant and other vendors continued chuckling. Pam was the target of another vendor who shouted at her for taking photos near her paella stand; Pam tried to explain (without success) that a photo in a blog might be good for business.

We wondered if vendors were not as accustomed to visitors to the market with cameras in tote; typically, they are very pleased to be part of a photo.

Aside exploring the market for what might be called cultural anthropology reasons, I came to buy a suitcase, something that I couldn’t imagine finding in any of the other markets I frequent. And, yet, there, in the heart of the Pertuis market, was a vendor selling suitcases of every size and shape…and for a good price. I found one that was just what I wanted.

There were no monogrammed sachets filled with lavender to be found in this market. But, no one comes to the Pertuis market to buy such frivolous things. It is, indeed, an immensely practical market (although, surprisingly, there were fewer vendors with prepared foods, produce stands, potted herbs, and the like for a market this size and many vendors hawking things like polyester children’s clothes)

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To me, it’s a different market. Socioeconomically, Pertuis consists of a population and a nominal tourist market that is quite different from the wealthier Lourmarin and its surrounding area with a much more developed and affluent tourist trade. The markets reflect these demographics. The Pertuis market caters to its population that, generally, does not have the expendable income to devote to silk scarves and silver jewelry (or to carts of cute puppies).

It is not swarming with tourists—and thus not as crowded as markets like Lourmarin—because, frankly, there are few vendors selling the kinds of wares that most tourists want (and I don’t imagine those vendors will increase in numbers in Pertuis because, well, the tourists aren’t there).The Pertuis market feels much less crowded that Lourmarin’s market which, considering that Pertuis is ten-fold the population of Lourmarin, is remarkable. Being a much larger community, the Pertuis market has much more space to spread out, too. There is no need to extend your elbows to navigate through crowds here—comfortably strolling along works just fine, as one does in the Lourmarin market from October through May. (Parking, like most markets in the summer, is definitely a challenge in Pertuis.)

Is the Lourmarin market a victim of its own success?

 

We headed in the direction of Baie D’ HaLong, a small restaurant specializing in Vietnamese and Chinese cuisine, to discuss the concerns about Lourmarin’s market and to hash out the authenticity issue. One of my family’s favorite restaurants for Asian food and long a reason to go to Pertuis, I knew we’d have an excellent meal.

After the meal, we accepted the offer of some warm sake served in small cups. As I recalled from earlier visits, there was quite a surprise at the bottom of the cup.

The Pertuis market was a surprise for me. I now have five reasons to visit Pertuis. I can’t say I would opt for the Pertuis market over other Friday markets like Lourmarin, Bonnieux, Carpentras, or Eygalieres,but if I were in the area, I would definitely stop by.

Pertuis Market    Photo by Pamela O’Neill