03 January 2006

Place publique ou espace privé ?

[English version follows.]
Si j'habitais encore en Californie au lieu d'habiter en France, et si là-bas je ne travaillais pas, est-ce que je prendrais le temps d'aller faire des photos d'étalages de charcuterie ou de fruits et légumes dans des supermarchés comme les "Safeway" ou "Andronico's" ? C'est peu probable. En fait, quand j'habitais là-bas, je ne l'ai jamais fait. Mais pourquoi est-ce comme ça ?

Chez Doudouille au marché de Saint-Aignan

Je crois que c'est parce que dès qu'on entre dans un supermarché on n'est pas vraiment dans un endroit public. Le supermarché appartient à quelqu'un -- il y a un propriétaire. Quand on passe la porte, on est chez lui -- et ça change tout. Dans un marché en France, par contre, vous êtes en plein air, vous êtes sur la place publique. La rue appartient à tout le monde. Vous pouvez photographier ce que vous voulez, surtout si vous avez la gentillesse de demander la permission.

Bouchées aux noix de St-Jacques (scallop-fill puff-pastry shells)

Les étalages des marchands de produits alimentaires dans les marchés en plein air aussi ont des propriétaires. Mais ces gens- là sont présents et visibles -- ils sont là devant vous. Vous les connaissez. Vous pouvez leur demander si les photos les gênent. Ils disent toujours "non, allez-y" -- c'est mon expérience. Le patron du supermarché, lui, on ne le connaît pas, on ne le voit pas. On ne sort pas son appareil photo chez un particulier sans lui demander son autorisation -- mais dans un supermarché on ne sait pas à qui s'adresser.

Rillons, rillettes, terrines, tartes aux champignons (saindoux is lard)

Bon, tout ça pour dire que j'aime faire des photos au marché de Saint- Aignan le samedi matin. Je n'en fais pas souvent -- je n'ai pas le temps, parce que j'ai mes emplettes à faire. En fait, la première fois que j'ai sorti mon appareil numérique devant un étal au marché, la personne qui s'en occupait m'a demandé si j'etais venu faire du tourisme ce jour-là. Elle me connaissait comme client et n'avait pas pensé que je pouvais aussi me comporter en touriste. On a bien ri ce jour-là.

Saucisses fumées, saucisses de Strasbourg,
saucisses de Francfort, choucroute


Les étalages les plus intéressants du marché sont ceux des charcutiers. Chez le boucher, il y a de la viande crue, coupée en morceaux. Et sur les étalages de fruits et légumes il y a beaucoup de belles primeurs, de couleur agréable et d'une extrême fraîcheur. Mais chez le charcutier il y a une gamme de produits qu'on ne trouve pas ailleurs : pâtés et terrines, rillettes et rillons, lard fumé et bacon, saucissons et saucisses, boudins noirs et boudins blancs, morceaux de porc frais ou demi-sel ou fumé, jambon blancs ou braisés ou crus, bouchées à la reine ou tourtes lorraines, choucroute, salades et pizzas -- tout est beau, bien présenté et appétissant.

Boudin noir, porc frais, boudins blancs, jambons, lard maigre fumé

Mon charcutier -- ma charcutière, en fait -- s'appelle Doudouille. Joli nom, non ? Mme Doudouille, comme nous l'appelons entre nous, tient son éventaire le samedi matin au marché de Saint-Aignan. Son mari, M. Doudouille donc, est de service au marché d'Amboise le vendredi matin. Les produits qu'ils vendent sont toujours appétissants et de la plus grande qualité. Nous sommes vraiment gâtés de les avoir si près de chez nous et nous allons presque toutes les semaines acheter quelque chose de bon à manger chez eux.

Alors, quant aux photos, est-ce que ce serait simplement parce que les étalages sont plus beaux en France ?

Terrines, rillettes, saucissons à l'ail, fromage de tête, etc.

Public Place or Private Splace?

If I still lived in California instead of France, and if I weren't working, would I take the time to go photograph delicatessen and produce displays in supermarkets like Safeway or Andronico's? Probably not. In fact, when I did live there, I never took pictures like that. Wonder why?


Saucissons secs et jambon

I guess it's because as soon as you walk into a supermarket you are really no longer in a public place. The supermarket belongs to a person -- it has an owner. When you go through the doors, you are in his place, and that changes everything. At a market in France, on the other hand, you are outdoors, you're in a truly public space. The street belongs to everybody. You can take pictures of anything you want, especially if you make the effort to ask if it's OK.


Bacon, terrines, pâtés, pizzas, quiches, boudins

The merchant's displays of food products in the outdoor markets have owners too of course. But the owners are there, right in front of you. You know them. You can ask them whether they mind if you take some pictures. They always say "no, I don't mind" -- at least that's been my experience. The owner of the supermarket is a person you don't know, you don't see. You can't just take out your camera and start shooting pictures when you are in somebody's place of business without asking for permission -- but in a supermarket you don't know who to ask.


OK, so that's just a long way of saying that I enjoy taking pictures in the market in Saint-Aignan on Saturday morning. I don't take pictures very often -- I don't have time because I'm too busy shopping. In fact, the first time I pulled out my camera in front of one of the market displays, the merchant running the stand asked me if I was playing the part of a tourist that day. She knew me as a customer and hadn't thought I could also be a tourist. We laughed about that.

The most interesting displays at the market are the charcutier's, or pork butcher's. At the other butcher's, there are nice cuts of raw meat. On the produce stands the fruits and vegetables are beautiful, colorful, and perfectly fresh-looking. But at the charcutier's there is a range of products like nowhere else: pâtés and terrines, braised pork ribs and potted meats, smoked pork belly and Canadian-style bacon, sausages and salamis, black pudding and white sausages, fresh pork and salted and smoked, boiled hams and braised and cured, pastries filled with sauced meats or seafoods, Lorraine-style tourtes, sauerkraut, salads, pizzas -- all beautiful, displayed just so, and appetizing.

Morceaux de porc demi-sel

My charcutier -- charcutière, in fact -- is called Doudouille. It's a funny name. "Madame Doudouille," as Walt and I call her when nobody's listening, is on duty at the market stall on Saturday mornings in Saint-Aignan. Her husband -- "Monsieur Doudouille" of course -- makes his appearances at the Amboise market on Fridays. The products they make and sell always look delicous and are obviously of good quality. We are really lucky to have them so close to where we live and we go buy something good from them nearly every week.


So, about those photos -- could it be that the food displays in France are just nicer to look at?

13 comments:

  1. Oh, the translation is pretty funny in places! I think you're right about the supermarket belonging to somebody (I'm not sure about "one is in somebody," but I suppose going to a great market can be a type of fantastic voyage).

    However, when I first visited the Bay Area in 1979, I found myself taking pictures of fountains in shopping malls in Los Gatos and the Pruneyard. I hadn't seen anything like it in the Midwest or East coast. I took pictures of what were very ordinary things because they didn't look that way to me at all.

    Your pictures are so charming, and I sure hope that everything you see doesn't start to look too ordinary to you. I want you to keep posting and giving us a view of your life. It's so eye-opening. Thanks again for doing it.

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  2. Hi Ginny,

    Well, I've been coming to France on a regular basis since 1970 -- that's 36 years, can you believe it -- and I haven't gotten blasé yet. But I can tell now that things are starting to look normal to me, if not ordinary. Maybe I need to make the trip back to California in 2006 to see things from a different perspective.

    Ken

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  3. Wow, you got much better results from Babelfish than I ever do. I just use it as a dictionary now.

    I read recently (don't recall where) that the reason it's good manners to greet the proprietor of a French shop upon entering is because the shop is regarded as a private space, like a home--unlike the more public spaces of the US. I'm not sure which explanation is correct, but I think Ginny is right. The place where you live seems normal after a while, and new places are well, new.

    I think your artist's eye keeps your view fresh wherever you are. You have some nice photos of the US, as I recall.
    Chris

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  4. Oh, yes, please come to California for a visit! I know I won't make it to France this year, but there's always hope for 2007.

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  5. Kia Ora(Hello) & Happy New Year from a blogger down under in New Zealand. I love your "meaty blog" !!!

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  6. Hello Kelvin,

    Nice to hear from you. NZ is a place I'd love to visit one day. I have friends in Christchurch.

    Ken

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  7. Chris,

    Entering a shop in France is very different from shopping at a stall in a market, that's for sure. When you enter a shop, you say "bonjour" to the people inside -- the owners, employees, and other customers. That's the way things are done in Saint-Aignan. At the market, you say "bonjour" when it's your turn to be served.

    But when you enter a supermarket, nobody greets you. And you might think in some ways that you are in a public place but, when it comes right down to it, you know you are not. I guess a supermarket is more anonymous, but not as friendly or public as a market stall or a small shop. The supermarket has its own rules. The cashiers greet you with a "bonjour" and a "bonne journée" but nobody else acknowledges your presence. At the same time, you have to be on good behavior while you are on the premises. I guess I should take my camera to Intermarché or SuperU one day and start taking pictures, just to see what happens.

    I may get myself deported. Can I stay in your guest room for a few days while I find a place to live in California?

    Ken

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  8. I once accompanied my Maman to a LeClerc supermarket in Cavaillon. I was thinking it was too bad that the old ways were gone, etc, and then got to laugh at myself when uniformed employees greeted us (I presume we "bonjour"ed them too) and helped make our selections in each aisle. The butcher knew my Maman by name. It may have helped that I was accompanying an 88-year-old woman. I don't get such service at LeClerc when I go with Tony. Never tried to take photos either.

    You're welcome to use our guest room any time, bien sûr.

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  9. Chris, I remember now that I did take some pictures of the seafood section at the Leclerc in a place called La Ville aux Dames, near Vouvray and Tours, in 2001. The people working the seafood counter thought it was hilarious that we would want to take pictures there. So it was a good experience.

    By the way, when was that trip to the Leclerc in Cavaillon with your Maman? You must have been a very young girl in those days...

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  10. When I actually was a "young girl" (1963) accompanying Maman on her cours, my French family lived in Lyon. I remember standing outside at the butcher because I hated the overwhelming odor of raw meat.

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  11. Some butcher shops definitely smell better than others. When our friends were here in December, we stopped in to buy a steak at the butcher shop pictured recently on my blog -- the one with the red trim. Our friends commented on how fresh and good the place smelled. I remember there were times that I couldn't stand the odor at the butcher counter of one of the supermarkets where we shopped in San Francisco.

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  12. Bonne Annee! I was going to remind you about taking photos at the fish counter in the supermarket in 2001, but you remembered it, too! Very interesting observations and translations!

    Best,
    Ch

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  13. I re-did the translation. Now it's my own version. I hope it's better.

    Ken

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