THE world is full of famous markets. Whether you search through stalls at London's Portobello Road, seek out finds at those in Paris and Lisbon, or comb for collectibles at Honolulu's Aloha Bowl, all have distinctive personalities.

But sometimes, smaller regional ones are often actually more fun and worth seeing out. They tend to focus on the area where they're held and offer surprising discoveries.

When we first began visiting Alsace 18 years ago, these "marches" were a gold mine of discovery. Many of the picturesque villages had one super-sized annual one and they were full of treasures.

Most are held on Sundays, with an occasional Saturday event. Starting way back on our first trip, our weekend schedule was planned with a strategy worthy of a military engagement. It was choreographed to include at least three a Sunday, sometimes more.

Although a very appetising breakfast was included with our accommodation at Mount Ste. Odile, we bypassed it to be off at the crack of dawn to be early arrivals . . . and still do.

Airline luggage restrictions were more generous then, and we hauled home some quite incredible antiques. With the special scale we stored in the chateau's attic from year to year, everything was weighed to be sure the three suitcases allowed each of us were within reasonable limits. Although they often edged up toward 80 pounds, such things were tolerated then if you had platinum frequent flier status.

When they got really excessive, like a dazzling set of gilded communion-rail gates from the church vintage 1700s, we happily paid excess charges or shipped them home by air.

Because so many battles raged across this landscape over centuries, it was a great source of military collectibles. And it always stunned us the things people were willing to part with.

When encountering a particularly impressive piece of trench art, we'd ask, "Did a member of your family create this fighting in the trenches?" When the answer was, "My grandfather or Great Uncle", we'd question, "Don't you want to save it?"

We have unusual opportunities to collect this sort of thing to someday donate to a museum. Trench warfare was so horrendous, but unfortunately forgotten, and even the Smithsonian gives it little mention.

Yet we always felt guilty removing items from a family. But when answers so often came back like one young woman's, who replied, "No, I want a new VCR", we changed our attitude and happily purchased her two matching, beautifully embossed expended brass shells with Verdun and the battle date carefully inscribed.

Would shopping possibilities still be as interesting? The favourite Marches we've narrowed our list to have been carefully researched over the years by screening tourist office literature and the local weekly paper, DNA, which publishes a list of local activities every Thursday.

First stop was always Romanswiller, which had every imaginable kind of antique. It had originally started in a large rivers-edge park, then moved into the village where stalls covered every street.

This year it had moved back to the park, was mostly an oversized garage sale, and we came away empty-handed. Barely an antique in sight.

Dinsheim was next and had some finds, but far more limited than previously. On to Huttenheim and it too sprawls through a large lakeside park, stretching out over a rough grassy meadow. It had evolved into a blend of antiques and garage sale. Crowds were enormous, a surprising percentage of Muslim women traditionally veiled.

Here there were many finds, a lot tempting but too oversized to get home. But the piece de resistance was easily packable. We'd just visited Fort de Mutzig, a fascinating underground fortification built by Kaiser Wilhelm in 1889 when Germany occupied this region.

An impressive silver anniversary piece, obviously with some military association to the fort, was inscribed 1889-1914. Irresistible, about eight inches tall, it's silver fluted pedestals were topped by gilded German eagles, wings spread in flight.

It appeared to have been presented as a very special memento. Perhaps to the Officers Dining Room or a specific officer. The flat surface between the pedestals likely contained a fancy carafe of some sort of liqueur, probably to toast the Kaiser.

Solid silver, the first price quoted was just over $200. While we finished paying for some interesting pieces of trench art, I tried not to act too interested.

The dealer's stall had quality antiques, no other customers in sight. "I'd go 125 Euros", was his next offer. Purse still open after paying for the trench-carved military shells, I held out a 100 Euro note ($136) . . . he hesitated, surveyed the lack of customers and took it.

The younger generation who inherited their family's antiques have sold many of them, so these markets aren't quite what they used to be. It's taken more time and patience to find the real jewels.

Except for the town of Orbey, which allows only antiques sold at their annual August "Marches Brocante" (antique market). This year it was bigger and more varied than ever. One could easily furnish a museum with the gems offered here. It also seemed half of France was there.

We bring along a luggage cart, attaching a cardboard box to fill with purchases. And it takes a lot of self control to limit buying things that are packable.

Stall after stall beckon with temptations. It's impossible to resist two exceptional, very unique kerosene lamps dating to 1850-70. Each are 2-1/2 feet tall, complete with unusual glass globes.

One has a tall alabaster pedestal, exactly the same colour as a pair of lamps flanking our fireplace. The other is bronze, both in perfect condition and remarkable buys at $150 total. They'd cost at least six times that at home, except they're simply not available. Happily we had enough bubble wrap top to pack them carefully in my carry-on and Jim carried the globes in his. Everything made it home perfectly.

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