Wherever you turn in Europe, tradition greets you. In the US, we think something that has lasted 60, 70, 80 years is a treasure. Here, traditions have a longer life.It is no secret that I love old things. Give me a cardboard box in a dim corner, partially obscured by a ratty guitar case and hideous throw pillows, and I see a potential gold mine. I love to dig through decades of random domestic detritus and rise triumphant with a carved jett acorn clinging to its powdery elastic cord, the final three beads of a once treasured bracelet. It's crazy, I know, but it's fun. The fact that I have no idea what I am going to do with that little acorn does not diminish the joy of it's discovery. Just one more difference between David and me...
So, tradition meets treasure in the Lille Braderie. Braderie come from the French " to get rid of," and this market has been a fixture in the French border city of Lille since the middle ages. Tradition has it that the servants and slaves of Lille were allowed one day from dawn to dusk to sell their owner's cast-offs. What started as a daylight second-hand sale has ballooned into what some say is the largest Flea Market in Europe--lasing virtually 48 hours straight--from early Saturday morning until well past midnight on Monday. The center of Lille is closed to traffic and there are thousands of stalls ranging from fine antiques to Indian scarfs, from cheese the size of tractor tires to college kids selling old posters and "paraphenalia." 
It is impossible to see everything, as the sale winds up and down the major roads, but spills over into the side streets and back alleys. In some spots it is so crowded that movement actually stops and people are locked in the epitome of European "clumping" tendancies. We were trapped in a solid block of humanity for 15 minutes, while an optimistic but misguided gentleman tried to carry an 19th century gate-leg table over his head against the flow of several thousand serious shoppers. We finally escaped by crawling under tables and squeezing between cargo vans and wrought iron fences.
We saw some beautiful furniture as well as fabulous junk. I came home with three enamel canisters, three bakelite easter egg molds, a WW2 surplus messenger bag for Benjamin, a French writing award pin, a really cool silver something that will be great on a necklace, a WW2 Belgian liberation pin, and several other things that I can't quite remember, but are really fantastic. But my favorite find was the Braderie itself. I have discovered tradition-- and I already know what I'll be doing on the first weekend of September 2009.
David and I stopped back by on our way home from Amsterdam to see the finished product. The viewing balcony was closing down so I climbed up on a railing at the end of the Grand Place to take these pictures. It took me a while to get down...people kept handing me their cameras!
There is nothing like crusing a canal at twilight to bring out the romance of a place, and Amsterdam really glows at dusk. The water takes on an almost natural blue tint, contrary to its daily greenish brown, and the house boat inhabitants come out onto their decks to drink, laugh, and ignore the tourists. The houses feel more real, the churches benefit from the misty glow, and the counter-culture are all busy doing their counter-culture thing. 
