The Container

Around the corner from Julien and Angèle's house is little boutique that sells an assortment of items, everything from small household goods, to clothing and children's toys.  It all comes in shipping containers - piles and piles of it - from the States.  At least the containers come from the States.  What's inside is probably originally made in China.

But the prices are good, so we don't complain.

The music blares loudly this afternoon because a new container arrived.

Angèle says we should go check it out.  These are little things we find fun in, just enough out of the ordinary to be exciting.

We put hats and shoes on the boys.  She holds Germain's hand and I swing Theo up onto my hip.  We walk through the sandy alley, past the gas station, a school, a couple other boutiques.

We're standing next to the street, buses and car rapides behind us, and the boutique seems alive with people all eager to see what's come in the latest shipment.

The music hurts my ears, but no one else seems to mind.

We start rummaging through great piles of clothes, of accessories, of children's toys.  She holds up a necklace.  "This will go with the outfit Lamine just made, don't you think?"  I nod and hold up a pair of earrings in response.  "What do you think of these?"  She likes them.

We browse through the scarves, the belts (one of her weaknesses), and the hand bags while Germain eyes the pile of toys.

There is no bargaining, no pressure, and the prices are extremely affordable - earrings for 60 cents, scarves for under a dollar.

Eventually, we make our choices, pay the shopkeepers with a pile of coins, and head back down the alley, happily discussing our finds.

We'll be back again.