The last couple of weekends have been filled with some travel adventures, feeling extremely lucky to be heading off two weekends in a row, I certainly wanted to make the most of it with some flea market exploring.
My first weekend was a jaunt to Germany, where I was staying with my cousin Daisy in sleepy Elsenfield in Bavaria, where she has spent the last year as part of her University course. With the shared love of vintage wares I wasn’t surprised to find that she had an unrivalled knowledge of the local flea markets or Floh Markts as they are known over there.
Our Flo Markt tour began with Elsenfield’s little gem. Early every Saturday morning, set below the flyover of the autobahn to Frankfurt and against the backdrop of an imposing factory it is full of characters, and with my cousin Daisy’s masterful hold of the German language we were able to negotiate some real bargains.
Following a quick pit stop it was then off on the autobahn to Frankfurt where I was lucky enough to coincide with the bi monthly flea market set on the River Main, in Sachsenhausen’s Shaumainki Street. Set along the river, this one is huge! Full of vintage delights, and some very clued up dealers, but we were still able to bag ourselves some bargains, and we certainly worked up an appetite in time to tuck into a Bratwurst.
Following a successful Floh Markt adventure the next weekend excitingly involved a trip to Krakow with 3 old school friends, and I was delighted to hear it was a city who too loved a good flea market and it certainly didn’t disappoint. After a jam packed weekend of exploring Krakow, venturing out to Auschwitz for an extremely moving and emotional experience, and sampling the local vodkas, it was time for the vintage fix. This came in the form of Plac Targowy’s Flea Market on Sunday morning. My eyes lit up on arrival and trying to pace myself, whilst keeping firmly in mind the size of my carry on suitcase before turning into a crazed lady with a supermarket sweep mentality was proving a task in itself. With a zero grasp of the Polish language I wasn’t sure how the bargaining would work, but with lots of pointing and writing out numbers on our hands we seemed to get somewhere, also helped by the infamous English speaking stall holder who all stall holders seemed to run off and get when in doubt, and what a character he turned out to be. Apparently also fluent in Swahili he was out to impress with his Swahili phrases, sadly myself not able to boast such a talent who knows what pearls of wisdom he was sending our way. It turns out he had also taken quite a liking to my good friend Hannah and apparently in North Africa she would “be worthy of 400 camels” if I was to trade her in, now there’s a thought… only joking Han.
So after all this activity it was time for breakfast and of course it had to be a Polish sausage, served with a giant pickled gherkin and warm fresh bread roll, it was truly delicious. It was made even better with the perfect spot to soak up the atmosphere, in the heart of the flea market on a pair of eclectic chairs, kindly given up to us by two elderly Polish gentlemen, a final memory of the friendliness and comradeship of this wonderful city.
If you wanted a little peak here are a few of my Polish finds…