La Grande Braderie

Twice a year, Chambery hosts a 'Grande Braderie'. This is essentially a giant car boot sale, without the cars. Shops and local traders set up stands selling end-of-the-line bargains and trinkets, and families set up deckchairs and tables piled high with second-hand junk. And it really is a sight to behold: roads cordoned off, car parks overflowing, more people in the streets than for Carnaval or even (quelle honte) the Strike to End all Strikes...and all on a Sunday, when the town is normally deserted. All just to buy other people's crap.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not averse to trawling through this crap in search of hidden treasures. It's just that no one seems to draw the line. Second-hand underwear really is taking it too far, 50 cents a piece or not. There's a fantastic array of artefacts, ranging from Polly Pocket to wagon wheels (and I don't mean the chocolate ones!), from escargot forks to skis to wigs. I pick up a fondue/raclette kit and proudly carry it around, indiscriminately bashing into small children and old ladies as I leap from stall to stall.

It's a great idea, especially since it's free for anyone to have a stall, and it's really sociable. I get the impression that some items appear year after year, but it doesn't really matter; Chambery is alive on a Sunday. My last Sunday.

Somewhat tragically, a near fatal overdose of Churros, chocolate and chips sees me bed-bound for an impromptu nap, my head spinning with nostalgia prompted by the goods on show.


Lessons Learned
This day carried a rather more serious lesson than many. While in the death throes of over-indulgence, I mustered the strength to speak to a lovely friend who is busy saving the world in Africa. She was also feeling ill, but kindly listened to my complaints before revealing hers: suspected malaria. There's me, feeling sick from pure gluttony on a shopping trip; the epitome of Western greed and decadence, whilst she's suffering from a serious illness whilst trying to provide desperately poor people with some form of nutrition. That left a far worse feeling than any sugar-coated lump of deep-fried badness and certainly made me think.