Farmers Market in the Pyrennes

After we escaped Toulouse, we drove south towards Spain, still having quite a bit of mountain range to drive through. We were getting hungry after our adventures. We drove through picturesque town after town. Old stone buildings with brightly colored flowers and window boxes and shutters that matched. Random churches or ruins perched atop nearby hills. The mountains were huge above us, with the clouds lower than the peaks, still waking up. Towns all seemed to be setting up for the Sunday market, so when we finally found one that looked busy we stopped. It was incredible. Stalls of fresh fruit, cheeses, honey, jams jamons, olives, clothes, knives and other assorted goods. We bought a kg of fresh apricots for 1.50 euro, some tea and mustard, pain au chocolat and bread and then were led by our nose to a man cooking rotiserrie chickens. Below the chickens were cut potatoes sitting in the chicken fat from the rotiserrie. Was this guy serious? Yes! Done! We bought an entire chicken and a box of potatoes cooked in chicken drippings. Thomas bought a knife from a man who was sharpening knives in the back of his van. We then took are goodies and hit the road. About 5 minutes down the road we tore into the potatoes box; the smell of roasted chicken had engulfed the entire car and we couldn't resist! Further down the road we ripped into the chicken and resulted into a potato chicken sandwich with the loaf of bread we bought. The potatoes may be one of the best parts of this trip. And salvaged our last meal in France.