Paris, episode 5. In which we make an Olympic return to the city of lights.

After that first walk through Paris together, Mari and I knew we would return.  At least we hoped we'd have another opportunity to visit Paris and definitely hoped that it would last long enough to pack a change of clothes.  Such an opportunity unexpectedly presented itself as I planned our mad-capped Olympics adventure for London2012.  In a previous post (May 2, 2015, Olympics) I attempted to translate into words my exasperated disappointment when I received tickets to only two events after my initial ticket request from CoSport.  Even after we eventually accumulated tickets to additional events, it became clear that there would be a large gap in our planned (painstakingly precisely planned!) two-week itinerary.  With event tickets only available during the second week of the Olympics, what was a slightly (slightly is what I tell the authorities) obsessive list-maker slash travel-planner to do?  Not what I expected, either, because I took our initial two-week London itinerary and turned it into a three-week UK-Ireland-Paris itinerary.  Not one to dwell on disappointment or half-empty glasses of water, I looked upon this once-in-a-lifetime trip across the pond to fulfill a childhood dream as an opportunity to explore even more dreams.

More on our UK-Ireland tour and week at London2012

(including fleamarketing!) in upcoming posts, I promise.

I know.  I know how incredible it was to have this "problem" to solve.  Nothing is ever taken for granted, trust me.  That's exactly why I embraced the opportunity to visit more of the United Kingdom (and Ireland!) and embraced even harder the chance to revisit Paris which, if you recall, is a mere two-and-a-half hour Chunnel ride away.  Also, if you recall, Les Puces de Saint Ouen is a weekend fleamarket, so we made it a peremptory point to be in Paris on our first full weekend.  

We're nothing if not very serious about fleamarket travels.

Our second visit to Paris together may have begun with a partially-submerged train again, but instead of a wearying wend through ancient avenues with a small backpack and borrowed souvenir map, Mari and I found ourselves wheeling ginormous (American abroad alert!) luggage laden with a three-week supply of (mostly wrinkled) creature comforts.  Of those three weeks, however, there would be three weekend nights in Paris and weekend means fleamarket.

During this first weekend trip to Paris, Mari and I (of course) visited the Eiffel Tower again, took an evening sightseeing cruise along the Seine, visited Versailles (a revisit for Mari), and (best for last?) experienced Les Puces for the first time.

I was hanging about halfway out our hotel window to capture this shot of my favorite Paris landmark, but what a view!  I'm going to go out on another limb and highly recommend the Fraser Suites Claridge, too, for its unbelievably scenic central location and thoroughly accommodating service. July 2012 was the first of two weekend stays for us at this beautifully restored and maintained hotel; its luscious location, abundant amenities, and solicitous staff all first-rate reasons for repeat visits.  The full kitchen with dining area (and nearby grocery) were helpful in controlling our budget, but this was definitely a splurge.

Visit the site for temptingly beautiful photos and to sign up for special offers.

paris-claridge.frasershospitality.com/en

Before I get too far ahead of myself (or is it too far behind if this is a flashback?) or too wrapped up in details (I know, I like details), let me share with you our first Paris flea photo.

Yes, really.

I may be un peu (okay, maybe a lot more than un peu) sentimental, but this photo really captures for me the essence, not only of the antiques market at Les Puces, but fleamarket essence itself.  It's not shiny and new.  It's not pristinely sorted and organized.  It is, however, overflowing with the past. It is casually cluttered with well-worn and well-loved second and thirdhand goods of all tempting types and from all groovy and non-groovy eras.  Just makes me want to dive in (or at least belly flop)!

The far north end of Les Puces de Saint Ouen, which houses the meanderingly browsable network of antiques merchants, is a fleamarketer's and antiques lover's dream.  It is impossible to completely cover this shopping mecca in one visit (or one blog post), so I will return with you next time when Mari and I will share with you our first purchases at the Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen.

Paris, episode 4. In which we walk no more.

I usually spend much of our travels not with fleamarketing tote in hand, but with trusty video camera strapped to my right hand.  Sometimes I forget it's there and that makes for some interesting "raw" footage when I'm downloading and editing back home.  Our walking tour of Paris was the first iMovie project I completed (and certainly not the last!) and was also the first I shared with students.  I had one particular class that 2006-2007 school year that was absolutely fascinated that I was traveling abroad during Spring Break, especially that I was spending "just" a day in Paris.  The boys wanted proof when I returned and the girls demanded pictures.  About two weeks of editing and tinkering (and a little bit of fussin' and cussin' at the computer) later I was able to meet the demands of that smallish (about 15) lunch-hour class, which had become one of my most favorites after 17 years of teaching, with my 20 minutes of Paris iMovie fame.

Even when Mari and I are fleamarketing, as you are (visually) well aware, I still have one hand strapped to a camera most of the time.  Unfortunately, there was no time for fleamarketing on this first Paris adventure, but there was plenty of browsing, especially during that stretch of the Champs-Elysees beginning at the Arc de Triomphe.

With limited time, Mari and I knew we weren't in Paris that day to shop, but souvenirs still somehow found us along the way of our pedestrian antics.  We don't typically buy souvenirs that mark our travel territory by proclaiming our love for cities or miniaturized memento monuments (with or without simulated swirling snowflakes), but instead try to return home with items unique to our traveled location. Typically, I like to buy a piece of art which will eventually find a place on the "travel gallery" wall in our home's entryway.  While a Monet or Matisse would have made a very lovely addition to the travel wall, I wasn't going to risk a life sentence (or two!) in a French prison for the sake of sentimental home decor.

Mon Dieu!

Instead, Mari and I were excited to find local vendors, craftspeople, and artists selling a wide array of souvenirs (and books!) along the Right Bank of the Seine as we completed the final mile of our walking tour.  I was also thrilled to find this colorful 9" x 12" print for all of 3 euro (I purchased a twin souvenir for my map-lender colleague, completing a deux-for-cinq euro bargain in the process).  Although not a Louvre masterpiece, our (now) matted and framed albeit inexpensive souvenir displays proudly, a colorful reminder of an equally vivid day.

Upon exiting the Louvre, we made our way along the Seine this last mile to the final stop on our 10-hour tour, La Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris, previously pictured (episode 1) by way of a vacationing Kentucky couple.  At right is a final parting shot as the sun set serenely on our (very long) day.


An unfavorable alignment of church services, interior repairs, and limited time kept us from venturing much further into the cathedral than barely beyond the foyer, but the comforting reassurances of the cathedral's six plus centuries more than mollified any anticlimax I may have felt.

I also knew we'd be back some day.

For the present, I had discovered another city that doesn't sleep although this travel documentarian was ready for a two-and-a-half hour Chunnel-lulled nap.  After digitally immortalizing a few final views of our beloved Notre Dame, Mari and I straggled to a nearby metro stop and back to the Eurostar station at Gare du Nord.  Still, we couldn't help but capture this exquisitely detailed lamp post above the street entrance to the metro.

I rather like this final photo I took at the station while we waited, crispy (tuna and tomato stuffed) baguette lying in wait for train sustenance.  Like I said, no time for fine dining during a 10-hour tour of Paris, but our taste buds (and shopping buds!) would eventually have their day.

Our first weekend...

weekend = fleamarketing!

...in Paris next time.

Paris, episode 3. In which we become weary with wonder.

There are certain things we take for granted as Americans and as tourists.  We're adults here, right?  We all have adult needs?  After an early morning Chunnel ride from London and after a leisurely stroll to the Arc de Triomphe from the Eiffel Tower, there were certain needs that were making themselves more and more needful as our Parisian afternoon unfolded.

We both really needed to use the restroom.

Although armed with some spending Euros for the day, we hadn't really planned on perfecting the pocket change necessary for payment at public restrooms (which were not as readily available as your guidebook will have you believe).  Even hotel lobbies with their presumably spotlessly scrubbed facilities along the way of our meanderings were not open to tourists.

Once Mari and I figured out how to safely get across the mammoth gap between the Arc and the Avenue Champs-Elysees, we ran for our lives (snapping this photo to mark our tourist territory) and began our southeastern trek across the one and a half miles of richly dappled shopper's paradise that would take us to the Place De La Concorde and the entrance to the Jardin des Tuileries and (eventually) the Louvre.

We had stopped briefly at a busy boulangerie/patisserie for a cheesy, gooey, toasty croque-monsieur to tide us over until later that evening (no time on a 10-hour walking tour of one of the majestically oldest and exquisitely busiest cities in the world to experience fine dining) so we weren't looking to sit and dine (maybe just to sit and unwind).  As we walked the first block or two onto the famous shopping avenue, Mari and I were both struck (silly) simultaneously with the unexpected juxtaposition of trendy designer names like Swarovski, Montblanc (have I mentioned my pen collection?), and Hugo Boss with perhaps the most famous, least-designer (most-comforting) brand name that has ever crossed our gaze.

McDonald's gave us the break we deserved that day!

During our brief, but much needed respite under the Golden Arches, we also learned to ask for a cup of ice at the McCafe to complement the unfathomably warm soft drinks dispensed to customers at the fast-food counters.  I'll save my treatise on why Americans have come to rely on a higher ice-to-beverage ratio than any other world tourists for another balmy day, but just know that the glistening icy jewels were a welcome little luxury that afternoon.

As you make your way down the Avenue Champs-Elysees, you'll have plenty of opportunity to people watch and window shop, reminiscent of a walk down 5th Avenue or the Magnificent Mile, only it's not New York or Chicago or any other city you know because it's freakin' (pardon my French) Paris! Stores and designers both familiar and foreign, restaurants and pastry shops both chain and unique, buildings and sites both modern and historic line your paved promenade so be sure to linger as you stroll your way down the famed avenue and eventually through to the Champs-Elysees Park where you will exit at the Place De La Concorde, the largest public square in Paris.

It is impossible to miss at the square's center the giant hieroglyphics-decorated obelisk, a gift from Egypt that originally marked the entrance to Egypt's Luxor Temple.  From this now French landmark you have approximately a one mile stroll through the Tuileries gardens to reach The Louvre, the penultimate stop on our Best-of-Paris-in-10-Hours-Walking-and-No-Stopping-Tour.

Upon entering the striking Tuileries with its gravel-lined paths crunching beneath your (tired!) feet, you'll be greeted with layers upon layers of geometrically landscaped greenery, still slumbering peacefully during our pre-spring stroll. The enormous palace gardens became public after the French Revolution and even on an early not-quite-spring day, the paths and benches and carefully crafted quiet corners were being enjoyed by the public and tourists alike.

Vive la révolution!

I was fortunate on my first Paris visit to be with an "expert" although Mari would never claim that her prior visit nor her high school French qualified her in any way as an expert, but she was MY expert and my personal tour guide through the streets of Paris, souvenir photo map in one hand and supportive and adventurous (albeit a bit clammy) hand in the other.  That very (very very very) long walking tour is forever memorable to me for Mari's confident lead and for her contagious overwhelming joy at revisiting a favorite memory and a favorite city.

While my wife had enjoyed a planned and educational afternoon at the Louvre as a teenager 22 years prior to this return visit with her 40-year-old husband, it had been obvious to us while planning our day trip and especially now, after a very (very) long day, that we would be unable to spend more than two hours immersing ourselves in the breathtaking breadth of French art history displayed throughout the Louvre.

That meant Mona Lisa for me and crown jewels for Mari with a few tchotchke inbetween like Winged Victory and Venus de Milo.

Seriously, the moment you share with the Mona Lisa (you will have to find a way to be "alone" with Mona in the small gallery with about a hundred other tourists slash art lovers) will eternally linger with you.  Finding my way to her through the thronged room that was her private home and gazing (not with my usual collector's gaze, unfortunately) at the framed and isolated masterpiece was like looking through a window into the past.  She was colorful and alive in a way that only an artist's vivid imagination could convey.  The only other time I experienced a work of art in this same way was looking up at the glorious ceiling of the otherwise dusky Sistine Chapel--another trip for another blog day.

Still a bit over a mile before our first Paris visit's final stop (and miles to go before I sleep) next time.

Paris, episode 2. In which I'm blindsided by beauty.

This was my first ever (live) view of the Eiffel Tower. It was March 15, 2007, not quite yet spring, and there was a morning chill still hanging in the French blue sky.  After emerging above ground at the Champ de Mars (Eiffel Tower) metro station, you open your eyes wide to see an elegant old city radiating towards the majestic (still unseen) Arc de Triomphe across the Seine--choice of bridges to be crossed later, but first we needed our moment.

Actually, this is my moment.

Mari has had her moment with the Eiffel Tower almost exactly 22 years to the day, but after walking along the Seine a few minutes, this is the view that first met my gaze just past a large, long, ancient row of apartment buildings.  Not technically awake for spring, the barely budding branches beautifully frame my view.

No matter how many times you've seen it on TV or in film, the Eiffel Tower still takes your breath away. No other non-cliché way to describe it.

I stopped, stunned, and gawked like a tourist until I remembered that yes, I was a tourist (with very limited time, remember?) and started looking and looking and snapping and snapping away on my new-for-the-trip and first ever digital camera. Needles to say, lots of photos of the Eiffel Tower.  The thing is, no matter how many times you visit Paris you will always take another photo of the Eiffel Tower.  This was my first and certainly not the last.

I wanted to show you Mari's first photo (March 1985) side-by-side with the photo from her second (with me!) trip, but we are deep in the midst of some remodeling and the scrapbook cabinet (yes, really) has been blocked by several layers of furniture.  Of course, she's being silly and recreating the pose from her earlier trip, but who can blame her for being silly in Paris for the silly man holding the camera?

After some time marveling at the elegant beauty of one of the world's most recognizable landmarks and Paris' most famous site, we set out on foot to sight a few more before our evening train back to London.  Heading towards the Arc de Triomphe, we made our way to the Pont de l'Alma.  This festive little chocolate shop just happened to be on the way and I was drawn in by the sunny spring display (and the colorfully wrapped chocolates, of course).

Crossing the bridge, we stopped to photograph the Flame of Liberty Memorial, a full-size replica of the flame atop the Statue of Liberty.  It was comforting to see a reminder of home and a symbol of the bond between the US and France.

In the distance (already) is the Eiffel Tower we had just left behind as we ambled our way north along the Avenue Marceau towards the Arc de Triomphe.

Mari and I had planned (of course we had a plan!) a walking route that would take us to as many legendary landmarks and illustrious institutions as we could squeeze into our ten hours.  We were navigating via a colorfully labeled tourist map with famous sites pictured throughout, a borrowed travel souvenir from a good friend and colleague who had visited Paris a few times in the past and had nearly memorized the map herself.  She was thrilled to have the map make yet another transatlantic journey to a cherished city and, I'm sure, just as thrilled upon its safe return.

This is our first (of eventually many) view of the Arc de Triomphe, probably my favorite Paris monument.  It's impossible to describe, even with a photo, the vast greatness of this veterans' memorial, home of France's Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  It stands at the center of an enormous and enormously busy turnaround, a dozen streets intersecting intricately around its base.  On that particular Ides of March, it was a breathtaking breather for two American tourists who had just completed their first mile-and-a-half point-and-shoot gawking-and-walking tour, yet it was just the beginning of our day.

Next time, how a familiar institution showed us that we deserved a (bathroom) break that day.

Paris, episode 1. In which a spring stroll is on the horizon.

Up until I turned forty I had never visited Paris nor did I speak more than a few words of French.  Mari, on the other hand, had studied French in high school and spent the Spring Break of her senior year visiting Paris and other locations throughout France on a student tour.

I trained to Albany on an overnight school trip

(my first overnight away from home) in the spring of my senior year.

C'est la vie!

I had always romanticized France (particularly Paris) largely based on the exotic beauty of the language and sentimental sightings of the Eiffel Tower in movies and on television.  French was the language of love; French food was rich and luxurious, but I had never felt a burning desire to travel to France, particularly since I understood very few words of its lovers' verse.  As my fortieth birthday in 2006 loomed large in 2005

I began crafting a plan (one of my many multi-layered lists) for a special trip to celebrate.  My travel true love as far as a dream trip, however, was not Paris.  Stonehenge had always been number one on my list of life adventures for so many reasons:  mystery, mysticism, spirituality, nature, beauty... England!  I've always been an Anglophile as much as Mari had been a Francophile.  For me, it all started in the very early hours of July 29, 1981.

Like millions (billions?) the world over I too had fallen in love with Diana, Princess of Wales.  The Royal Wedding was everywhere on media that had not yet begun to be social, but was the biggest social event in world and television history.  Even as an about-to-be high school sophomore, I knew this was a big deal although I had yet to learn its significance.  Having never witnessed anything as grand or regal or beautiful, I was determined to learn more so I set out to become an Anglophile and eventually here I was, finally, 25 years later ready to set off on a Spring Break adventure and tic item after British item off my list.

So what does this have to do with fleamarketing Paris?

You may be wondering how all this love for all things British connects with a visit to Paris and I have a simple, one-word (mashup) answer:  Chunnel.  The (English) Channel Tunnel connects London with Paris in a feverishly fast and friendly two and a half hours.  I got my trip to London for my 40th birthday and Mari got a return trip to Paris in the bargain.  That first visit to Paris together lasted all of ten hours.  Chunnel in the morning, Chunnel in the evening.  One of the best (and exhaustingly longest) days of my life!

We exchanged cameras with a couple from the exotic land of Kentucky for this photo at the rear (buttress end) of Notre Dame.

Aller irlandais!

No, not exactly THAT Notre Dame, but an entertainingly romantic

(I promise!) aside on Going Irish in Paris will be forthcoming.

We meandered our way on foot through Paris for ten hours on the Thursday of our 2007 Spring Break to have this final photo taken at a most special place.

About five years later, there was a longer, weekend visit.

About two years after that, another weekend visit.

I'm excited (embarrassed?) to tell you that both those weekend visits were planned specifically around fleamarketing at Les Puces de Saint Ouen at Clignancourt (in my head I always call it "Klingon Court" although I have yet to unearth there any French Star Trek collectibles).  Mari had learned about this famed French antiques slash flea market, which proclaims itself the world's largest, from her high school French teacher.  Even though fleamarketing was not on the itinerary of her initial Paris tour, Mari had long wanted to return and rummage Les Puces and this attentive husband slash travel guru made note long ago.

The "Paris Perfect" apartment rentals site has a great section on shopping in Paris and a well-detailed page on Les Puces.  Often a google search has led me (way) astray, but sometimes you just never really know where you will find the best travel information.

parisperfect.com/paris-flea-markets.php

The markets are open Saturday through Monday and you would be tres sensé to visit this site, consult a guidebook, or at least a map of the markets before heading out.  Here's our souvenir photo of the map (antiques vendors in French blue!) at one of the antiques market entrances off the Avenue Michelet.

Vache sacrée!  Intimidating?  Maybe.  Exhilarating?  Definitely!  Seeing this colorful laminated map as we walked through one of the gates into the antiques section of Les Puces for the first time was a sign of validation that our very carefully planned and perfectly timed weekend was worth the miles and the jet lag.

But wait!

Faire attendre!

I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

Next time a leisurely stroll (of the ten-hour variety) through Paris in the spring.

Chicago-Indiana-Michigan, episode 10. In which Mari collects and Lou craves.

Mari's the original collector in our family, with inherited bargaining and collector's eye skills from her mom who is an expert shopper-gatherer-reseller and purveyor of all things rooster (starting to rub off on me and the former empty space in my kitchen).  I think my spirit of collecting adventure has rubbed off on Mari, though, and she's amassed quite a few collections herself over the years and over the miles, but ask her about her absolute favorite and I always know how she'll respond.  There's a long story (don't you realize by now, dear reader, there's always a long story when it comes to collectibles?) about how-when-why-where my wife began collecting hand-crafted celluloid pins by Lea Stein.  We'll save that for another day when I return to one of our first and favorite antique-slash-fleamarkets.
  

Inside the hallways at Randolph Street, Mari met another kindred spirit jewelry collector with a glitteringly wide array of vintage pins, earrings, and necklaces.  It was among the vivid display of pins that Mari discovered a few authentic (lots of copycats out there) pins by a favorite designer.  Pictured here is Mari's find for the day.  Prior to Randolph Street, Mari had only collected the Lea Stein cat pins (don't worry--will be featured in our upcoming adventure), but she's always had a special place in her heart for lady bugs.

We eagerly anticipate a return end-of-the-month visit to Randolph Street because it was a uniquely enjoyable experience teaming with friendly resellers, knowledgeable collectors, and fun casual shoppers (hey, that's us!) alike.  The collectibles both precious and practical as well as kitschy and cool.  All kidding (and complaining) aside, do be careful about traveling with collectibles by air.  Look your items over carefully and consider how non-collectors may view them.  Too large?  heavy?  pointy?  (Too club-like in appearance?!)  It's not just a matter of protecting your investment or your collectible, but about traveling safely and stress-free.

I may be finished (momentarily) strolling down collectible-memory lane in one of my favorite parts of the country, but Mari and I weren't quite ready to head home from Chicago-Indiana-Michigan just yet.  Like our trip home from Nashville after our amazing 127sale adventure, we planned a bit of a detour again:  an overnight foodie visit to Kansas City, Missouri.

Long story short (I will TRY, promise).  Mari had traveled to Kansas City annually every June to participate in the College Board's annual "reading" and grading of Advanced Placement Psychology exams.  During her five annual visits, Mari got to know Kansas City pretty well, particularly the restaurants she and her colleagues enthusiastically enjoyed after daily immersion in teen-interpreted psychological theory.  Two restaurants in particular made their way onto Mari's "must" list every summer and were often the subject of her nightly calls home.  Lidia's (Bastianich) Kansas City and Jack Stack Barbecue, both conveniently located at either end of the Freight House on West 22nd, were within walking distance (long walk to work off the calories) of the staff hotel and are well worth a visit, even a layover visit.

lidias-kc.com

jackstackbbq.com

For years Mari repeatedly raved ravenously over Lidia's Pasta Trio (unlimited, fresh, served tableside)

yes, yes, and yes, please

and Jack Stack's brisket burnt ends.  Despite my multiple annual requests for a smokily savory sample of Tupperware-transported burnt ends, my taste buds remained repeatedly unfulfilled. How could I fly over Kansas City from Chicago without making a (BBQ) pit stop?  So stop we did.

An overnight layover, including dinner reservations at Lidia's and (no reservations necessary) lunch at Jack Stack before catching a late afternoon Texas-bound flight (a careful reshuffling of collectibles providing a stress-free, second-checked-bag-fee-free return trip), was only a few keyboard shortcuts from Lou's Travel Services away.

I can now join Mari's ravenous raves without prejudice.

During her June fortnights in Kansas City, Mari also discovered an annual weekend (second weekend in June) antique festival which she highly recommends at the Crown Center.  While Mari kept mostly to easily transportable collectibles of the shiny and glittery variety, she did surprise me with a camera for my collection one year and would always long for the beautifully unique antique furniture on display.

Visit the site for event details, photos, and a calendar of all upcoming events.

crowncenter.com/Event-List/antique-festival

You never need look very far when it comes to collecting.  Being in the right place (a garage sale down the street or a TSA-tussled, list-planned, multi-city itinerary away) at the right time (planned or unplanned) is all it takes to bring you closer to that collectible you never knew you needed that has been waiting for your discovery (or re-discovery) all this time.  Fasten your seat belts and grab lots of bubble wrap for a lengthy trip across the pond next time for some favorite old cities, photogenically fabulous landmarks, tempting tasty treats, and fascinating fleamarket stories.

Because there's always a story.

Chicago-Indiana-Michigan, episode 9. In which I tussle with TSA (again).

Like many visitors to Chicago, I fall easily into many of the same tourist traps.  Chicago is full of them, but you will never feel trapped, I assure you.  I have photographs from the observation floor of the tower formerly known as Sears, cloudy day and sunny day.  I have photographed the television-famed Buckingham Fountain with and without friends and family, with and without snow.  I have meandered the halls of the Art Institute, stopping every time to gawk near and far at my favorite pointilated painting (Seurat's A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte).  I have enjoyed countless Chicago dogs with electric green relish, tomato, and sport peppers (and I'm not even a sports fan).  I have enjoyed many a deep dish cheesy pie (the original Gino's East on Superior still my favorite).  Cubs (complete with Harry Caray stretch), White Sox (original Comiskey Park), Shedd Aquarium, Museum of Science & Industry, the "bean" at Millennium Park... nearly everything in my Top 10 Chicago tourist guide (even before I discovered Eyewitness Top 10 travel guides)!  I've enjoyed being trapped by Chicago many times and I look forward to many more.  I also look forward to a return fleamarketing journey to the Randolph Street Market which was every bit as fleamarketable and overwhelming as I had originally hoped.

I'm not sure what TSA has against me.

First it's the unopened bottle of peanut butter sauce from the Times Square Hershey's Store and now I'm trying to transport weapons apparently.

Still shopping the outdoor market, Mari and I came across a Chicago-friendly vendor with a wide variety of household and collectible items including some great vintage patio furniture. Four of these wooden pins stood on a display shelf among some books and other decorative items, but these made a beeline straight to my gaze.  Had to have them.  I picked up the tallest (he spoke to me first) right away and you know how I feel about touching.  Remembering our decorating rule of odd numbers, we selected the "best" three or the three that coordinated best with each other and made our offer.  I think these were the first items purchased that Sunday morning (even before the redundant Super8).

I also think we had a pretty darn good bargain until we found our way back at O'Hare a few days later trying to travel "light" with only one already-checked bag (full of freebie books and other ALA vendor giveaways) when I was stopped at Security and questioned by an over-zealous security agent about the vintage wooden weapons I was attempting to carry aboard. Five more-stressful-than-they-should-have-been minutes and another checked bag fee later, I was traveling significantly lighter, my rollerboard bag containing questionable fleamarketed decorative goods now ensconced safely in the plane's underbelly.

Back at Randolph Street (and now on a tall shelf in our living room) the trio of richly patinaed wooden pins found a new home with a couple of wandering collectors just as we were beginning our singularly splendid fresh fleamarket experience.  Making our way indoors after about two hours perusing the tented vendors in the school parking lot, Mari and I were thrilled to find a slightly cooler venue in the school hallways and auditorium along with an interesting variety of vintage and antique collectibles.  As you may have surmised over the past few months, I collect a few odd things.

I collect a few odd things.

Before I continue my treatise on how collecting helps us make connections across cultures and even across time and space, allow me to present one of the newest old members of my Peanuts collection.  Yes, Peanuts.  Among the varied carols I hear (with sincerest thanks to one of my favorite poets, Walt Whitman, and one of my favorite poems) are those of collectors, especially collectors of all things Snoopy.  There's also quite an extended Snoopy collection, formerly housed in my classroom now squeezed into my library office.  It started long ago with my yellow Snoopy dog house lunchbox which has survived since third and fourth grade to find a home among our current kitchen kitsch.  When colleagues or students have (often) asked why I have so much "Snoopy stuff" I sigh my exasperated (because isn't it just obvious?!) sigh and respond my simple yet elegant refrain.

Snoopy makes me happy!

When I think of Snoopy I invariably imagine him taking off into one of his emphatically joyful dance trances. The 1970s pictured pin I found inside the school auditorium at Randolph Street was only a dollar and its ribbed 3-D dance interpretation perfectly encapsulates my feelings about Snoopy and my feelings about collecting.  Did I mention it was all of one dollar?!  I've attempted to photograph the pin in the various free-spirited stages of Snoopy's joy, but it's not quite the same without the 3-D effect.

Snoopy's happy dance notwithstanding, the collectibles inside the auditorium and particularly those displayed at tables up on stage were characteristically of the preciou$ variety.  Fun to browse, but not quite ready for a bubble-wrapped migration (with obligatory TSA detour) to Texas.

Mari shares a favorite find fleamarketed indoors at Randolph Street next time and we make a (BBQ) pit stop on the way home to Texas.

Chicago-Indiana-Michigan, episode 8. In which we finally arrive in the Windy City.

There were three separate and completely different points that aligned leading to a recent extended visit to Chicago.  The first was that episode of Market Warriors on PBS (NYC Markets, episode 3) in which the experts fleamarketed the Randolph Street Antique Market in search of bargains to later sell at auction.  It looked temptingly amazing and was immediately added to our travel list without any prodding from my copilot.  Second was my upcoming attendance at the American Library Association Annual Conference at McCormick Place at the end of June 2013 (the market regularly occurs the final Saturday and Sunday of each month).

Third, and what put the final flavorful flourish on that star-crossed alignment, was an episode of another beloved-to-me PBS series, Cook's Country.  When I saw Christopher Kimball digging heartily into a creamy slice of chocolate eclair cake whose recipe had been dissected and perfected as only chefs from America's Test Kitchen can (to the extreme), I knew I had to have me a slice (or two).  When I learned that Portillo's of Chicago was noted for its own version of this dessert, that's when my list making for the upcoming week in the Windy City (no one really calls it that, but it is poetically accurate) reached its sugary peak.

Here I am at one of my (now) favorite restaurants.  We've been to one other chain location (with free on-site parking), but our favorite is still our first--on Ontario across from the Hard Rock (with no on-site parking).  My phone photo of the chocolate eclair cake doesn't do it justice (neither do the styrofoam plate or plasticware it's served with at the casual dining establishment), but be assured that it fulfilled its creamy chocolatey destiny.  Mari is pointing (inexplicably to me at least) to the fudge sundae she enjoyed while I lavishly satisfied my tortuously-teased-with, long-awaited-anticipation taste buds.

So good!

Great appetizing website, too.  portillos.com

Always game for a new fleamarketing experience, Mari and I were thrilled that my ALA conference coincided with the final weekend of the month.  The more-than-just-antiques market is held regularly on the last weekend of each month throughout the year with a few exceptions during the holiday season.

The official site has a calendar of upcoming sale dates.
You will also find lots of useful visitor info and enticing photos and videos.

randolphstreetmarket.com

Having carved out some time in my convention schedule when I wouldn't be having "a moment" over a cherished author or missing an awards ceremony, I did look forward longingly to the moment when I could begin a new fleamarket adventure.  I've reflected previously on the awesomeness that comes with a new-to-you fleamarket and that overwhelming excitement was no different when it came to Randolph Street.  First, I must note that Randolph Street Market even provides a free hourly trolley between the market and Water Tower Place (be sure to check the site for specifics).  We were more than happy to be greeted by the clang-clang-clang as we stepped aboard that fine sunny Sunday to venture out as first-timers.

Much like New York's GreenFlea and the Brooklyn Flea at Fort Greene, the Randolph Street Market is located on the spacious grounds of a public school, with shopping indoors as well.  As we began our first and only (so far) visit, we were thrilled with the variety of goods displayed by the outdoor vendors.  We found ourselves immediately immersed in vintage clothing, furniture, and you-name-it (my favorite thing to collect, as you know).  Still waiting for the perfect moment to snap up a great (bargain) piece of vintage furniture, but once again we were just too far from home for that perfect moment to propitiously present itself.

Among my favorite outdoor vendors on this particular Midwest-humid Sunday were a pair of female friends who had gathered a wide mix of collections including vintage clothing, books, and cameras.  Yup.  Cameras. Expectantly and excitedly I stepped up to the temporary tiered display for a close browse.  I don't touch when I browse.  I like to get as close as I comfortably can, squatting if I must (getting tougher as I round the other side of the hill), but never touch.  To me, touching is almost a contract and I'm not ready for negotiation until I lock looks with the collectible that's been giving me the eye.  I'm getting to the point in my collecting, unfortunately, where I sometimes don't remember if I've already collected something.  Know the feeling?  (I'm told by a cynical friend with questionable humor that this feeling is called old age.)  I did clearly recognize several small cameras that I knew were currently waiting for me at home in a lighted display where my collected cameras are kept along with a vintage typewriter and my newish collection of typewriter-ribbon tins (more on those when I flash back to my first sighting & purchase at the South Florida Fairgrounds in a future adventure).

Not having my attention captured by the neat rows of cameras on the top two shelves, I focused my browse on a third shelf which held a stack of 8mm film reels (hopefully not once-cherished family memories) and several old movie cameras.  There were three old movie cameras in my lighted display, too, and I added a new-old fourth to the collection that day, thankful that the friendly vendors had held onto the original storage case with instruction booklet should I ever decide to go completely retro during one of our travel adventures.

Footnote.  After unpacking my goodies at home a few days later, I placed the new-old 8mm camera on the glass shelf right next to the identical Kodak Brownie II I had previously purchased at an already forgotten (okay, it is age) market.  

A second footnote involving my tussle with TSA next time.