Is Paris expensive? That depends. Not if you shop at the Sunday market in Saint Denis. Today we rode the number 13 metro about forty minutes and arrived at this largely immigrant banlieu, a few stops past the periphery of the city. I bought four dining-room chair cushions for 8 Euros total, about $10. Ella blew half her allowance on a fancy hand fan for 1 Euro (about $1.20). Bin upon bin of underwear and lingerie could be had for 1 Euro apiece. Part North African bazaar, part flea market, part fishmonger/cheesemonger/greengrocer/butcher, the Saint-Denis market is so large and bustling that we thought we’d seen it all when we’d only pushed our way, New York-subway-crowd-style, through the spillover and not even entered the main stalls. Once inside, even the gourmet choices were not super-expensive: e.g. marinated swordfish and salmon kebobs for 18 Euros a kilo, or about $9 a pound. The hundreds of hooves, feet, tongues, brains, heads, livers, and intestines of pigs, cows, and lambs could be had quite a lot less (though you’d have to pay me to buy them). On the other hand, a couple days ago Ella and I rollerbladed to the the tony and touristy seventh arondissement, sat at a cafe, and spent 10 Euros, or about $12, on two nonalcoholic drinks. For that I could have bought a dozen racy panties, a pair of shoes, or a week’s worth of farm animal appendages at the Saint Denis market.

Who is Saint Denis? According to legend, about two thousand years ago, he was decaptitated near Montmartre and carried his head in his hand five kilometers until he collapsed in the town and cathedral that are now named for him. Because of the way he died, he is the patron saint of headaches, and I said a little prayer to him for all my friends who are suffering from migraines because of the blue moon. He is also the patron saint of France, and his name is the French version of Dionysus. I’ll drink to that. With the money I saved, I can treat myself to the good stuff.