Part flea market, part farmers market, stalls line the river that encircles this town in Provence known for antiques.

L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is entirely surrounded by a canal, like a watery hug.

We learned about L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue from ma mère. She’s always been good at research and finding fun excursions as well as amazing places to stay on vacation. I still recall that she and her fellow librarians in Annapolis were among the first ones to realize the potential of what was then an upstart search engine named Google.

Dave and Shirley wait for Wally and Duke to stop goofing off inside an antique store.

A toast to a wonderful little Provençal town! Wally and Duke get fancy with their cafés crèmes.

While we were staying in Aix-en-Provence (those Provençals sure love their hyphens), the Shirl, as we affectionately refer to my mom — sometimes even to her face! — informed us of the Sunday market in a nearby medieval town named L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. Most of the small towns in Provence have their charms, but what makes this one so downright adorable is the fact that it’s encircled by a river — hence its name, which references an island on the River Sorgue. The Sunday market stretches along the water’s edge halfway around the town.

Pretty much everywhere you look in Provence is stinkin’ cute, like this small square.

Round and Round in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue

We got up early on Sunday morning to catch a train to L’Isle. (I’m not sure if that’s what locals call it, but L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is just too much of a mouthful to say every time. For the record, the town is pronounced, “Leel sur la Sorg.”)

There were once many watermills in town — now all that remain are the algae-covered wheels.

Bridges crisscross the canals, and now and then you’ll pass large wooden wheels in the water, covered with beards of green algae. They’re now fenced off and just there for show, the mills they were once connected to long gone. Et bien sûr, with the canal surrounding the town, it has earned the predictable nickname “the Venice of Provence.” We were there back in 2017, but more recent photos reveal that they’ve run with this, and the river is now filled with gondolas. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Aw, heck, who am I kidding? Duke and I would have totally caught a ride in one.

Wally had a delightful day exploring the L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue Sunday Market.

Duke takes a break on one of the back porches that line the River Sorgue.

About 300 stalls are said to set up each Sunday, selling everything from secondhand goods to saucisson.

Right as we entered the town, we passed a table with various representations of the Provençal mascot, the cicada. (Learn why this lovely part of France chose a bug as its symbol.) We admired an iron trivet shaped like a cicada. Not sure we wanted to lug it around all day, we uttered that famous phrase of many a traveler: “We’ll get it on the way back.”

But then I remembered having been burned before: You never know where the day will take you, or if the vendor will sell out or pack it up early. So I forked over the requisite francs (actually, by this time it was probably euros, but that doesn’t have as nice a ring to it). The trivet still sits in the windowsill above our kitchen sink.

The charming vendor who had the Shirl blushing

The Shirl’s Suitor

One section of the market opens up into a square filled with various stands selling food items. A diminutive man, who wasn’t even as tall as my 5’2” mother, with a prominent nose and a beaming smile, called out to us as we passed by. He zeroed in on the Shirl, and started flirting with her something fierce. He shamelessly ogled her, showering her with compliments, wrapping his arm around her back, unphased by the presence of my father. He was so full of energy and was so amusingly slick, we all just laughed at his antics.

He was selling various tapenades and other spreads, and offered to have us try some free samples before realizing he had run out of bread.

So he told us, “Un moment,“ and darted off to a nearby stall, where he snatched a baguette. It looked like he stole it, which cracked us up — though I’m sure he has an agreement with nearby vendors.

He sliced the bread up, slathered on some of his colorful spreads and batted his eyes at the “belle madame.” He was so utterly charming and over the top, we felt obliged to purchase quite a few jars of his wares.

One of many charming vistas in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue

At one point, the Shirl stopped to admire a scarf. It was blue, of course. We joke that my mom likes lots of colors: blue and white and…blue.

She put the scarf down and moved on through the crowd. We waited till she was out of sight, and then Duke snatched the scarf and bought it for her as a Christmas present. He’s sneaky that way.

Vintage toys line the back wall of one shop.

Gone Antiquing

L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is also known for its antique shops. The town’s reputation as an antiquing hub draws crowds from all over Europe, and prices tend to be high. Peter Mayle, he of A Year in Provence fame, famously groused, “The only thing you can’t get in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is a bargain.”

Despite being steeped in the fancy heirlooms of the past, L’Isle has a playfulness to it. Most of the stores don’t take themselves too seriously. You’ll find a statue of a giraffe statue peeking its head up amongst birdcages or a smiling clown looking to have his finger pulled.

No antique snobs here! The town has a whimsical feel.

We hit a bunch of shops after wandering through the market. One was situated right on the river’s edge. It seemed to balance precariously over the water, like the slightest push would cause it to totter into the Sorgue. We peered out the back door and chuckled over an amusing vignette: In the middle of the river, two chairs sat partially submerged at a table.

That’s one way to cool off and take a break.

Inside the two-level store chock-a-block with antique bric-a-brac, we rummaged through a bin of hand-painted numbered tiles until we found two 5s, which we passed off to my parents, who purchased them to use as their house number.

I mean, how cute is this glass? Wouldn’t you steal it, too? — I mean, how cute is this glass? Wouldn’t *you* steal it, too?

Many of the buildings in L’Isle are painted bright colors like this sunshine-yellow bistro.

The wait was too long at this restaurant, so we headed to another establishment, where we had delicious salads for lunch.

The L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue train station, which meant that another fun excursion had come to an end

We grabbed lunch at a café and sat on a small balcony over the river. The glass my beer came in was so cute, complete with a cicada, it somehow found its way in my bag. Karma ended up catching up with me, though. Because we hadn’t been back in our vacation rental for five minutes before the bag bumped into a wrought iron gazebo-like structure by the kitchen, and I heard the glass shatter. C’est la vie! –Wally