Apricots

Yesterday morning we went to the market. It was raining. But I had it on my mind to get some super ripe apricots as the market was closing to make some compote. Compote is delicious apricot goo - boiled down apricots with added sugar to put on ice cream or yogurt or toast or in cereal or with anything and everything. But it just wasn't that easy...

We caught a ride into Annecy and I spotted my target - boxes of nearly rotten apricots on a fruit stand. I asked the vendor if I could have some. He ignored me, and helped some other customers. He came back, mumbling in French with some strong crazy accent and weird intonations. I explained that I wanted some apricots for compote, and how much would that be? He said oh, it depends, it depends, and schitzophrenically started moving apricots around the stand into different boxes for a few minutes. Then he went off to the other end of the stand and helped someone else.

I offered up the bag I brought, and asked again for some apricots. He stood there and looked at me. I asked if I should serve myself. He said NO, only he serves, and he insisted that I use a box. Everything else he said was inscrutable. I explained that I couldn't carry a box around, and he scowled some more and scurried around the stand. Finally he took my bag and started shoveling apricots into it. He placed one in my hand. I stared confusedly at him, and turned confusedly to the surrounding customers. "He's crazy!" I told him I didn't need that many, but he kept going back and forth to the different boxes, shoveling in more and more apricots. I followed as he raced over to the cashier and he asked me for 7 euro (about $11). I said I did not want that many. He stared at me, yelled something I didn't understand. He proceeded to dump out all the apricots and shoed me away. Stunned and confused, I was happy to just walk away.

So we continued down the market, and I doubled back in a few for another try. I quietly asked the other vendor standing by for some apricots, about 1 kilogram. He starts quietly filling up my bag, and said it would be about 2 euros. But... the crazy guy comes back! He rips the bag away from the vendor, starts shoveling in more apricots, all the while exclaiming "you're back!" among other indeterminable exclamations. He asks me for 5 euro, but I say I don't want that much. "This is how it goes," he says. "I'm crazy, but this is how I work." (I actually understood those few words, for a change.) Whatever - I just want my apricots at this point. I hand him a 5 euro note. He hands me a huge bag of apricots, a melon, and two peaches, and sent me away. A bit of rain, a little racism, a huge language barrier, and a bunch of rotten apricots. I called it a day.