Yesterday morning, Charlotte and I walked down to the Farmers Market in Markskirche Square.
How could I resist? Few things capture the feel for a community like a Farmers Market.
And there's something especially romantic about the idea of a European market.
The market sets up in the shadow of the elegant St. Mark's Church (a church which, as I write this log, is ringing its bells to call its congregation to Sunday worship), in a huge piazza surrounded by sidewalk cafes.
Naturally, there are lots of fresh fruits and vegetables on display, but there are also wonderfully stinky cheeses and sausages for sale.
It was great fun hearing the different voices, most in German but many in English, buying, selling and bartering.
But it was all a bit overwhelming for Charlotte -- who, surprisingly, was more interested in sniffing the tires on the farmers' trucks then she was stalking dropped food.
And, naturally, she was the subject of much attention.
Though, as the day was already beginning to heat up, she much preferred to just spread her belly over the cool cobblestones.
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