When the Saints go marching in they have nothing Toulouse.

     There is inevitably a moment on every trip I take, it seems, when the world serendipitously has me cross paths with some shimmer of home. By home I mean Louisiana, but it's surprising how many times New Iberia has become the center of the world while I'm away.

     Sunday is market day in France. Most things are closed, but everyone makes their groceries for the week with fresh veggies, fruit, would you like you chicken with eyeballs and feathers intact or just a piece-type of meat, and gorgeous French bread. It's a great experience because locals have their favorite vendor, and the vendors throw air kisses toward old friends and call customers by name. The colors and smells are intoxicating as well.

A postcard of the original Marche des Carmes. From this site.

Veggie stall outside. There is both an indoor and outdoor component to the market today. Most Frenchies will tell you  that you should only buy veggies and fruit at a market; the supermarket stuff is pretty rough looking.

Cheese stall!

     I guess every good blogger needs some pictures of food eventually, but I couldn't bring myself to whip out a camera and take artsy photos of veggies. It's just way too touristy. Plus, I didn't have any form of camera that morning. 

    Oh that I had, though. My friend and fellow assistant, Joanna, and I went to an Anglican mass Sunday morning and made a few British and Scottish friends along the way. We also decided to check out the market. The second we surfaced from the metro the sweet sweet sounds of Louisiana wafted through the air. Jazz!! Jacques-Imo and When the Saints Go Marching In blasted out of a tuba painted like a lime green serpent, a big trombone, drums, and what I think was a clarinet. The American teacher from T.L. happened to be there swaying along as well. Spontaneous swing dancing started around the periphery that had formed near the band. Kiddos tried their best at dancing and giggled and smiled when once they failed and fell. 

     While I was standing there listening, singing, and dancing along, tears welled up in my eyes and that stinging sensation you feel when you fight back tears sat in my throat. It was a moment of lagniappe to the max. I didn't want to cry lest someone think it was because I didn't like the music. Or that I was some crazy American having a moment. 

     I have missed home more than usual since everything has gone so contrary to plan. However, my roots are so firmly grounded in my heritage and family in Louisiana that I almost have more room to grow because of them. Home is home, and it is always waiting. Even in the most unexpected places. The Carmes market in Toulouse on a random Sunday, for example.   

      It turns out the jazz group, Les Roger's, is headed to New Orleans sometime in February. If you're in the area, Sehrt family, you should definitely seek them out. Here's a description in French, and my translation below, if you're interested. 

"Les Roger's est une équipe de musiciens toulousains passionnés par les musiques de la Nouvelle-Orléans. Après plusieurs voyages en Louisiane et à New York, ils décident de créer cet ensemble afin de revenir aux racines du jazz. De Louis Armstrong et Sydney Bechet, jusqu'aux musiques du fameux "Mardi Gras" de la tradition des Black Indians, les Roger's jouent avec générosité et énergie ces standards connus ou inconnus du public. Musiques de fêtes mais aussi musiques de processions funéraires, leur répertoire ne manque pas de lyrisme porteur d'espoir.     

The Roger's is a group of Toulousan musicians who love New Orleans-style music. After numerous trips to Louisiana and New York, they decided to create this ensemble to return to those jazz roots. From Louis Armstrong to Sydney Bechet, to the famous Mardi Gras music tradition of the Black Indians (we say Mardi Gras Indians), les Roger's play known and unknown jazz classics with generosity (for free at Sunday markets for example) and energy for the public. From party music and jazz funeral music as well, their repertoire is both lyrical and full of hope."