Of Churches and Lunch

France has lots of churches.  Like the rest of Europe.  And a lot of them are old.  Really old.  And in places that may have once been bustling, but are now on the top of lonely hilltops.  Or desolate forest glades.  Some of these are ruins.  Some are kept alive.  Presumably by the Church (with a capital C).  But it might be the government.  Not sure.  For old times sake? 

The thing is, though, that no one seems to actually GO to church.  They barely go to the churches in the lively cities, much less the ones in neglected ruin-towns.  We were here on Good Friday, but no one took off, and it seemed like every other day.  Ditto Easter, though we did hear some bells ring.  The signs on the doors of the various churches around here say that Sunday morning services rotate among the three or four village churches from Sunday to Sunday.  But all of these are good sized churches that are being kept going.  In the US, The Church is closing churches for this reason.  That doesn't seem to be going on here.  Supply and demand doesn't seem to make a difference.

In Italy, at least, we saw people praying in the churches.  Among the tourists, there's always be someone taking a few moments for themselves.  Not here.  Strictly tourist attractions as far as I can tell.

This morning (Sunday morning), we went to the grandaddy of all the outdoor markets in Provence at Isle sur la Sorgue.  Blocks and blocks of produce, clothing, nic nacs, soap, lavender, sausages, and the thing that makes this one special -- antiques.  It was pouring rain when we left the house at 10:00, but cleared by the time we got there at 11:00.  Spent a good hour wandering the stalls, thankful that we have no room in our luggage for anything of substance.  (That's me talking -- I'm not sure if Susan is thankful or not).  The place was thronged.  I can only imagine how busy it would be if it hadn't been pouring rain just an hour before.  Or in the height of tourist season.

Roundabouts 12:00 we started to feel a little hungry, so scouted out some lunch opportunities.  Which were plentiful.  Plentiful.  But they had to be.  Because Sunday lunch in Isle sur la Sorgue, as in any other bustling place in the south of France, is like a game of musical chairs.  You can't wait too long, or you won't have a place to sit.  Because everyone eats at the same time.  At noon, you can have a table, but some have already been reserved.  By 12:30, the pickings are slim, and you might be eating off the pizza truck.  Since lunch is a two+ hour affair, there are no second chances.  (Though, at the place we ended up, there did seem to be a small throng of people looking hungrily in our direction.  I didn't think anything of it until I realized they were waiting for our tables!.  Which I hadn't seen for so long I didn't know what to make of it.)  We settled in at about 12:15, just in time to snag an outdoor seat, under an umbrella, that wasn't behind a market vendor's truck or on an awkward tilt.  Perfect. 

Lunch was good.  Very good.  Three-course "menu" for 15 euros.  (The last time I was in France, there were Prix Fixe menus everywhere -- I haven't seen that phrase at all this time.)  Mussels gratinee to start, duck-leg confit for the main dish and isle flottant for dessert (floating islands of meringue in a vanilla flavored sauce).  With a shared 0.5 liter picher of rose.  No one was in a rush.  Not us.  Not the kitchen.  The waiter seemed a little flustered, but I'm not sure why, because the attitude of the French waiters seems to be "you'll get your food when you get your food", and "I'll take your order when I'm good and ready -- you're going to be here for a few hours anyway, what's your rush?"  And unless we're starving, we're generally fine with that.  The other night, we waited a half hour for our menu.  We think it was punishment for not ordering apertifs. 

It would be nice if they thought to bring the little basket of baguette out when you sat down, rather than waiting for the first course.  Take the edge off a little?  No one seems to have thought of that.  Maybe it's illegal.  Did you know that the government fixes the price of baguettes?

By the time we'd finished our first course, we noticed that the streets had emptied.  EVERYONE was eating lunch.  Shopping's done.  Lunch begins.  This happens regularly here, even on weekdays.  Businesses close at least from 12-2.  Some from 12-3, and the grocery store from 12-4.  Plan accordingly.  Do not get between the French and their lunch.  Interestingly, though, more and more stores are open "non-stop".  We noticed many such signs in Aix en Provence.  And the Hyper-U is open non-stop.  I wonder what those negotiations with their labor force looked like?  I'll enjoy the convenience of non-stop shopping, but if the idea catches on, something larger will be lost.

No one's in church on Sunday, but everyone's eating lunch.  I can't complain with that set of priorities. There was a lot of family together-time.  And friends enjoying each other's company.  Good wholesome activities.  Maybe if they served lunch at church? 

That lunch you see at the top?  Not today's -- I didn't take a single picture today.  But it was yesterday's lunch, so it fits the topic.  Beef brain salad.  It was worth trying.  And inexpensive.  Like any cold cut really.  Susan's choice was much better -- shrimp sprinkled with grapefruit juice and cilantro.  That was worth reverse-engineering.