Ma vie en rose à la ville rose
I started my two-week holiday by going to Toulouse, "la ville rose" (the pink city). Based on that description alone I figured I would like it... and I was more than right.
Tuesday morning started bright and early since I had purchased the cheapest train tickets possible aka the ones that left at the crack at dawn. I had to take THREE trains to get to Toulouse, but it was worth it. Niort to Poitiers, Poitiers to Bordeaux, and finally Bordeaux to Toulouse. I spent half the day traveling, but again, totally worth it.
Once I arrived in Toulouse, it was just a matter of figuring out their metro system and finding my hostel. Although I did miss the turn onto the street the first time, I eventually figured it out. The woman at reception was friendly and helpful as she showed me around the small but inviting hostel. I stayed in a room with two others.
I didn't have much time that night to do anything, so with Sally and Sarah's advice in mind, I headed to Bapz, which is only the cutest little tea room in the entire world. It's as if a restaurant sifted through my dreams, took a peek at my blogs, and designed a tea room just for me. Decorated with old hats, parasols, vintage dresses, and other cute things, Bapz immediately became my new favorite spot for tea in France.
The next day I wandered aimlessly, each stop a whim. My favorite was the Church of the Jacobins and its cloister, burial spot for St. Thomas Aquinas. The day was mostly gray with the occasional drizzle, but while I was sitting in front of his tomb, the sun emerged from the clouds, allowing the colored light from the stained glass windows to dance upon the walls. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Seeing the cloister was fairly solemn for me. Although the main part of the church is free, the cloister costs extra, and as I toured the rooms, I realized why. The frescoes are almost completely faded and unprotected. A church wouldn't have the resources to keep a careless public from touching the walls, so by charging a nominal fee, they're able to limit the visitors. At least, that's my interpretation. I was almost completely alone, and it was just a very contemplative moment for me. What would it be like to have been a nun hundreds of years ago, away from the outside world?
I splurged on brunch at Bapz. Totally worth it. Also, Sally and I will direct and star in a short film some day called Brunch at Bapz.
Later in the day, with the sun shining a bit more, I grabbed a spot on a bench overlooking the river, taking some time to write a poem. A man, probably in his late 20s or early 30s, came up to me and asked if he could sit down. I was listening to my music, so I don't know exactly what he said, but I knew that was the gist of it, so I gestured in agreement. After several minutes, he started talking to me, and that's when we realized that he spoke Spanish. Not French. Not English. I know maybe 20 words in Spanish, and based on our conversation, I would guess he knows maybe 100 words of French and about the same of English. And yet we managed to talk for about 30 minutes, and I think I understood what he was saying. It's amazing, between hand gestures and cognates, how much we could understand about each other. He was originally from Morocco, but he had been living in Madrid for several years. He had just moved to France a few months prior. He did the odd construction job here or there, as he could find work. He didn't say it outright, but I had the impression that he was definitely in France illegally. Although I enjoyed talking to him, I really wanted to return to the "me time" I'd been enjoying, so I made my excuses and left after about half an hour.
I headed back to the hostel where I chilled in the common room for a bit, reading The Picture of Dorian Gray on my kindle. I was there when a new guest checked in, Neil, the Kiwi from Australia. We ended up chatting, and he asked me what I was doing that evening. I mentioned that the art museum was open late on Wednesdays, and if he wanted, he could come with me. We toured the Musée des Beaux Arts together, which, frankly, was only okay, and I'm glad I got in free. Then we found a place for dinner that had cassoulet, since it's a regional specialty.
We ended up spending the entire next day together. Lots of wandering. I even let him buy me lunch (just kebabs, but still, it was out of character for me!). Then we hit up the Musée de la Résistance et de la Déportation. It was really really good. A bit shocking and disturbing, even, but a good museum on WWII should be shocking and disturbing. I felt extremely thankful for my privileged life afterward. I introduced Neil to Bapz for a snack, then we picked up some groceries for dinner, and then headed back to the hostel to cook. We made a huge salad with camembert, ham, bell peppers, mushrooms, avocado, and chickpeas. It was so good. I still can't believe we ate the whole thing. We talked late into the night and then said our good-byes, because my train left before 7am the next morning.
I hope to go back to Toulouse one day. The people were so friendly, the city was beautiful, the food was delicious, and there were many museums I didn't have a chance to visit!
Tuesday morning started bright and early since I had purchased the cheapest train tickets possible aka the ones that left at the crack at dawn. I had to take THREE trains to get to Toulouse, but it was worth it. Niort to Poitiers, Poitiers to Bordeaux, and finally Bordeaux to Toulouse. I spent half the day traveling, but again, totally worth it.
Once I arrived in Toulouse, it was just a matter of figuring out their metro system and finding my hostel. Although I did miss the turn onto the street the first time, I eventually figured it out. The woman at reception was friendly and helpful as she showed me around the small but inviting hostel. I stayed in a room with two others.
I didn't have much time that night to do anything, so with Sally and Sarah's advice in mind, I headed to Bapz, which is only the cutest little tea room in the entire world. It's as if a restaurant sifted through my dreams, took a peek at my blogs, and designed a tea room just for me. Decorated with old hats, parasols, vintage dresses, and other cute things, Bapz immediately became my new favorite spot for tea in France.
The next day I wandered aimlessly, each stop a whim. My favorite was the Church of the Jacobins and its cloister, burial spot for St. Thomas Aquinas. The day was mostly gray with the occasional drizzle, but while I was sitting in front of his tomb, the sun emerged from the clouds, allowing the colored light from the stained glass windows to dance upon the walls. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Seeing the cloister was fairly solemn for me. Although the main part of the church is free, the cloister costs extra, and as I toured the rooms, I realized why. The frescoes are almost completely faded and unprotected. A church wouldn't have the resources to keep a careless public from touching the walls, so by charging a nominal fee, they're able to limit the visitors. At least, that's my interpretation. I was almost completely alone, and it was just a very contemplative moment for me. What would it be like to have been a nun hundreds of years ago, away from the outside world?
I splurged on brunch at Bapz. Totally worth it. Also, Sally and I will direct and star in a short film some day called Brunch at Bapz.
Later in the day, with the sun shining a bit more, I grabbed a spot on a bench overlooking the river, taking some time to write a poem. A man, probably in his late 20s or early 30s, came up to me and asked if he could sit down. I was listening to my music, so I don't know exactly what he said, but I knew that was the gist of it, so I gestured in agreement. After several minutes, he started talking to me, and that's when we realized that he spoke Spanish. Not French. Not English. I know maybe 20 words in Spanish, and based on our conversation, I would guess he knows maybe 100 words of French and about the same of English. And yet we managed to talk for about 30 minutes, and I think I understood what he was saying. It's amazing, between hand gestures and cognates, how much we could understand about each other. He was originally from Morocco, but he had been living in Madrid for several years. He had just moved to France a few months prior. He did the odd construction job here or there, as he could find work. He didn't say it outright, but I had the impression that he was definitely in France illegally. Although I enjoyed talking to him, I really wanted to return to the "me time" I'd been enjoying, so I made my excuses and left after about half an hour.
I headed back to the hostel where I chilled in the common room for a bit, reading The Picture of Dorian Gray on my kindle. I was there when a new guest checked in, Neil, the Kiwi from Australia. We ended up chatting, and he asked me what I was doing that evening. I mentioned that the art museum was open late on Wednesdays, and if he wanted, he could come with me. We toured the Musée des Beaux Arts together, which, frankly, was only okay, and I'm glad I got in free. Then we found a place for dinner that had cassoulet, since it's a regional specialty.
We ended up spending the entire next day together. Lots of wandering. I even let him buy me lunch (just kebabs, but still, it was out of character for me!). Then we hit up the Musée de la Résistance et de la Déportation. It was really really good. A bit shocking and disturbing, even, but a good museum on WWII should be shocking and disturbing. I felt extremely thankful for my privileged life afterward. I introduced Neil to Bapz for a snack, then we picked up some groceries for dinner, and then headed back to the hostel to cook. We made a huge salad with camembert, ham, bell peppers, mushrooms, avocado, and chickpeas. It was so good. I still can't believe we ate the whole thing. We talked late into the night and then said our good-byes, because my train left before 7am the next morning.
I hope to go back to Toulouse one day. The people were so friendly, the city was beautiful, the food was delicious, and there were many museums I didn't have a chance to visit!