CP’s occasional summer travel series takes a trip to a bargain-hunter’s dream world.

The idea of a flea market sends some of us into spasms of joy. Traversing the piles of someone else’s carefully (or not) discarded objects is like an archaeological dig -- all of the stuff tells a story. To flea market fans, there is no trash, only treasure. And for those fans, there is not enough hyperbole to describe the treasure that is Zern’s Farmer’s Market. This more-than-just-a-flea-market near Reading calls itself "the world’s largest Dutch treat," and, since 1922, it hasn’t disappointed yet.

Zern's is a flea market, a farmer's market, an auction house and a candy store. The market has over 400 vendors, selling everything from pretzels to knives, moisturizer to antiques -- heck, even puppies. The best plan of action is to arrive early, shop, eat a little something, shop some more, stop for a snack, take one last look and then buy something for dinner that night.

To take home to cook later, you can get fresh crab cakes, kielbasa and Pennsylvania Dutch goodies like chow-chow, a corn relish. There are several package deals on meat that allow you to stock your freezer for months. There are fresh, locally grown fruits and vegetables, too, if you like that sort of thing.

For nourishment during the shopping day, Zern's offers fare like deep-fried vegetables you eat with a toothpick, turkey legs large and dense enough to render a man unconscious, slabs of scrapple thicker than a phone book and huge, sweet bear claws. There are chocolate-covered pretzels, 20 varieties of licorice and, two words: funnel cake. Get it while it's hot.

As for the shopping, piles of jewelry cover tables dozens of feet long. Pick through and you can find a massive gold medallion a dealer from Caesar's Palace wore to work, or a mother-of-pearl key chain that reads, cryptically, "In Case of Accident, Pray." Along with Avon products and the newest nail polishes and lipsticks from L'Oreal and Maybelline, there are also faintly dusty collections of "designer" fragrances from yesteryear. What did Love's Baby Soft smell like, again? Remember at Zern's.

An army-navy surplus store has piles of stiff blue Wrangler jeans in an array of sizes for about $8. A 10-foot-high wall of military and biker patches and stickers are both patriotic and bloody -- for example, a screaming red, white and blue eagle descending from above. Another booth has motorcycle-helmet stickers ranging from the directly vulgar ("Will Brake For Blow Jobs") to the more traditional ("If You Can Read This, The Bitch Fell Off").

Zern's is one of the area's largest employers. Zern's President Bobbie Gail says, "Zern's is one of the last places where a person can truly be an entreprenuer, and [have] all the responsibility that goes with running your own business." And for just $27-$32 per rental space in the massive market, it's not that hard to start. Gail also maintains their comprehensive website, and is the second member of her family to run the market after they bought it from the Zern's clan in the 1940s.

It's the people at Zern's that make it special, not just all the wonderful stuff, Gail says. To be called a "Zernie" is something that's earned over time.

Zernies with little willpower should probably stay away from the auction house. There is something hypnotic about the frenetic voice of auctioneer William Rick that urges even the biggest tightwad to get in on the bidding (and that kneeling, 5-foot-tall giraffe lamp or that box of Atari cartridges look so tempting on the auction block). Rick and his auction have been running continuously for 44 years. Before his auction days, Rick was a carpenter at the Boyertown Company. Zern's also has live music to help pass the time in an old-timey way. One performer is Banjo Jimmy, who has been playing for 56 of his 64 years.

The indoor market space has two long hallways crossed at the center, which seems easy enough to manage on paper. But the constant hum of activity has the tendency to make less experienced Zerners feel all turned around. The outdoor sheds, which are unheated in winter (think shoppers in coats and being able to see your breath while browsing) and sweltering in summer, are an even more confusing labyrinth.

Outside, there are herbs, plants, flowers and more vendors with fried zucchini florets. If it starts to rain, you can duck right back inside. (All this rain has been really good for the plants and produce, though.)

The restrooms are very busy, and while the ladies' room is stocked with enough hair spray and lotions to freshen up a high-school prom, I've never seen an attendant in place. Sneaking out without tipping feels like another stolen bargain.

The 40-mile drive from Philly is easy enough -- just don't be too unnerved when you drive by the nuclear power plant. The cooling towers look scarier than they are.

The one bummer? Zern's is only open two days a week, on Fridays and Saturdays. Gail doesn't want that to discourage you, though, and she also doesn't want to try and sum up the Zern's experience in a neat sound bite. "The best way of getting the story on Zern's," she says, "is coming up here and finding out for yourself."