Toulouse (too loose) Ends

This will be an evolving blog as we come down to our last week in Toulouse. I begin to look back at the hundreds of photographs we have taken and the myriad of experiences that have occurred. This is probably the last of my French blogs and it is merely a series of “random” thoughts about the last two months in this lovely southern French city. The thoughts come as I look back at the things we have enjoyed, but that have not previously fit neatly into a journal entry.

Our goal in coming here was to see if we could live our lives as the everyday French do in this town. While it may surprise some, we didn’t come to be tourists, we came to be French. Sadly, in terms of the language, we have not been overly successful We understand a great deal more and have picked up the rhythms of French, but have not been very quick to respond. However, we have no hesitation at going into a store, or restaurant, knowing we will manage. We have established good relationships with a fellow I call "Monsieur Fromage" at the marché. Also with a number of very nice waiters. Financially, this has also been an important part of staying within our budget. This last Friday night we discovered a new creperie which turned out of the excellent. Upon arriving, we soon realized that we were the only non-French in the place. That has been the way it has been most of the time. While we did some traveling to more touristy areas, it was mainly in the name of visiting friends or friends of friends.

We went to Paris to reunite with Geneviéve;

and who could forget the view from her 32nd floor apartment


we ventured to Montpellier to meet with Natacha’s sister:


and in our last train trip, now more than a week ago, we went to hours west to the town of Pau, to have lunch with Françoise Willmot, the mother of our landlord, Ariane Zambiras. It was not a particularily lovely day, but the company was divine.


We had a wonderful lunch, strolled about the town and then Françoise had us to her home. This was the place both she and Ariane grew up. It was an amazing series of rooms from what was once a a 17th century hotel. Every inch of the place was covered with family treasures and we were especially taken with the wonderful paintings done by Françoise’s father. He was truly a talented man.

For those who know us well, they will not be surprised that we developed attachments to a number of local watering holes. There was hardly a day that we didn’t spend an hour sitting and watching the world pass by at the Capitole, sitting in a front row chair of the Café Albert.

It finally got to the point that our arrival automatically signaled the appearance of a half-liter of white wine!

We enjoyed the deluge at a place called Papagayo,

where the waiter was very taken with Polley (Surprise, Surprise!).


We became friends with the owner of the place called Evangelina.


It was a very hip place; hardly the sort of place we would ordinarily be drawn to, but the owner was quite charming, spoke very good English from his time in Canada and Miami. It was a very fancy place that was near by, which was convenient on those rainy evenings when walking didn't seem very attractive. He had gutted an old building and then very dramatically designed the whole interior.

It was a nice place for a drink, although the food was somewhat disappointing.

Laundry day was always a time I looked forward. We would take a suitcase and a pillowcase full of dirty clothes to the "Laverie" about half a mile away. We chose this particular laundromat because of its proximity the Cafe des Facultés.

We would dump the clothes in and when we returned to the cafe our half a litre of Colombard was sitting on our table. Delightful help and a very interesting university crowd at lunch

And on many of the really pleasant evenings, we watched French life float by us at Le Wallace on the beautiful Place Sainte Georges.


It was there, I think that we came to appreciate real sense of a formal occasion. People, regardless of age, greet each person, individually. The shake of a hand, the kiss on both cheeks always occurs, regardless of the number around the table. A new person arrives, conversation stops and greetings commence. There seems to be a real appreciation of time here. People take two hours for lunch; sit for an unlimited amount of time after work or school. When you go to dinner in France, you plan to stay for the whole evening. As we had little to do, we were able to adapt to and value this style of life. It may be more common here in the south than in Paris, but regardless, it is still very much a part of life.

Of course, on Dimanche (Sunday) Toulouse closes up everywhere. Supermarkets, department stores, everything, but those places in the very heart of the tourist district, is closed. Including all our favorite drinking spots. So we are forced to spend an hour or so at Le Cactus.

In French, of course, this become Le Cactuuuu. I think we just enjoy saying the name in French, but the place also has live music on Sunday evenings. And, because it is the only place open, it also draws an interesting crowd. At watching people is our favorite form of entertainment.

Life in Toulouse, not just for us, but for most everyone, revolves around La Place Capitole. It is the Pioneer Court House Square of Toulouse. I grabbed this photo opportunity on day, because the Capitole is always never empty.

It is constantly being transformed. Last night it had a large screen television displaying the Heiniken Rugby Finals from Wales. Toulouse playing Munster, Ireland. Sadly we lost. On Tuesday and Saturday there is marché, nearly eveyday there is a flea market, and then other days it becomes a center for various activities.

On day it was filled with plants and there was an elaborate garden show



Another time it was set up for mini-soccer games for kids


And it is always a lovely spot to be in the evening

The city does a great job promoting it as a gathering place.

One view from our seats at the Cafe Albert that I never tired of was that of Sainte Sernin, the church at the end of Rue de Taur.


I hate to tell you how many pictures I have of it, because regardless of how many times I saw it, it struck me as new again


One day Polley and I were sitting at Cafe Albert during the noon hour, when a bunch of guys came by, leading a fellow in a wild wig, shorts, garters and hose, with high heels. It turns out that he was about to be married. A custom is to drag the groom-to-be through the streets begging the general public to feel sorry for him and contribute to his honeymoon. Of course, I had to contribute.



I also will think about the ever changing view from our apartment balcony. It was not always crowded, but always interesting. We would look out on the Place D'Europe and see skateboarders, frisbee players and, our favorite, numerous unicyclists, this fellow being among the the best


The carnival came to town for a month and set up camp on the Place.

The weather, unfortunately, failed to cooperate, and today they are packing up and moving on. It had to be a very disappointing month.

Other memorable moments, will be our nearly daily visit to the Marché, an outdoor market that now seems to be operating in one form or another every day of the week.

Beyond the grande marché, there are numerous neighborhood outdoor markets and there is a wonderful indoor market at Carme that became a favorite of ours, largely for the wonderous selection of olives.

A Perfect Example Of Why We Love To Travel “ Le Deluge de Toulouse”

Last nite, about 9:30, we left the apartment to go have a glass of wine [well OK, half a litre, but who’s counting] at Papagayo, a restaurant about a half mile from where we live.

It was looking a bit threatening, but it had been like that all day, so we didn’t even take the umbrella [The kiss of death, as we should have known]. When we got there, we decided to sit outside under the awning and watch the people go by. The waiter brought us our wine, and we sat chatting and watching the sun set on some pretty dramatic clouds, and eavesdropping on 3 people sitting behind us in the restaurant, whom we thought were speaking English – You don’t hear much English spoken in Toulouse, so it caught our attention. We had been there, maybe 45 minutes when the waiter came out to us and said “`A deux minutes, ??????????????” – we couldn’t understand the last word, so he ran into the restaurant, to the people we thought were British, and spoke to one of them. The man turned around to us and said “ Apocalypse”! Which was exactly what the waiter had said to us. It’s the same word in French, but pronounced differently, so we didn’t recognize it. Sure enough, 2 minutes later, the heavens opened.

We haven’t seen a thunderstorm like that since we were in Wisconsin Lightening and thunder following each other so immediately that we knew the storm was directly over us, pouring rain – the street was a river in minutes – and hail as big as marbles.



For, maybe, 10 minutes we continued sitting outside, under the awning, but eventually the wind picked up and the awning was leaking, so we fled inside the café and [yes, you guessed it] ordered another glass of wine, because it was obvious that we weren’t going anywhere, anytime soon!

We sat down at a table for two not far from the three people whom we had thought were speaking English. We struck up a conversation and found that the older couple was British, and lived in the Lake District, and the other man
[the one whom the waiter had asked about “Apocalypse”] is a university professor who teaches English here in Toulouse. And here comes the “woo, woo” part: Until 2 years ago, he was an internationally known opera singer. At that time he was diagnosed with cancer, and went through a year of treatment. He is now doing well, but the problem is that once you get off the opera circuit, it’s very difficult to get back on again, so now he is teaching English in Toulouse. It turns out that he sang with the Toulouse Opera Company 6 years ago and fell in love with the town; so much so that 4 years ago he purchased a home here. He told us that Toulouse is the #1 opera company in France, after Paris. How about that opera connection just popping up out of nowhere?

Now, while we’re having this conversation [and, incidentally, discovering that we are all huge Monty Python fans,] it’s continuing to rain buckets, and because the front of the restaurant is still wide open, the water is being driven across the restaurant floor all the way to where we are sitting, about 25 feet from the front. The waiter kept sweeping it out, but it just kept coming in again. At some point we said to him, “Le deluge, eh?” A French, as well as English word that we know, not from studying French, but from history! King Louis 15’s motto was, “Apres moi, le deluge” and he wasn’t kidding.


To make a long story interminable, the violent part of the storm only lasted about 30 minutes or so, and by 9:30 we were saying our goodbyes, hoping to run into each other again, and heading back to our apartment.


Today, [Friday] the Toulouse newspaper was full of the story, using words like “Apocalypse” and “Deluge” What an amazing evening!

Ed and Polley

PS – On Friday night, as we were on our way home from the Capitole, it started to rain , so we again stopped at the Papagayo, to get under the awning. The Papagayo faces west and the sun was just starting to set.


It was a very dramatic sky, so Ed photographed the entire process.


Pretty soon, the waiter came out to tell us that the people to whom he was serving dinner inside the restaurant wondered aloud why Ed was taking “the same picture over and over” “Because,” the waiter told them, “It’s not the same picture.” Then he sang, “Dee dee dee dee, Dee dee dee dee” – The theme from “The Twilight Zone” !

Quel Désastre!

For all of you who have been anxiously awaiting the next installment of our Paris trip, please let me apologize. I have sworn that I was not doing any hard work on this trip, and suddenly a blog recounting the events of our last day in Paris looked like very hard work. It also may have been that is was such a frustrating day, that I had a difficult time bringing myself to the idea of reliving it. So, I will make this short, but I do ask you to envision a disaster that went on for nearly 5 hours.

At the end of our evening with Geneviéve, she insisted that we meet the next day at Luxembourg Gardens on the left bank in Paris. As we understood it, we were to meet at 10 a.m. at the Metro station, Sainte Michel, which is at the end of Boulevard Sainte Michel. From there we would walk to the Gardens. Polley and I left at 9:30, arriving at the Metro station a few minutes early (surprise, surprise!). The place was jammed with Parisians and even more tourists. It was a bright, lovely morning and all of Paris was outside! We waited . . . and no Geneviéve. We waited some more . . . no Geneviéve. I walked the mile or more to the Gardens . . into the Gardens . . . all around the Gardens. Then I walked back to Metro Sainte Michel. Polley had waited there . . . no Geneviéve. Finally, at 11:30 a.m., we decided we must go back to the Hotel and see if we had any message. Another part of this disaster was that the minutes on our French cell phone had expired, so we had no direct communication.

Upon arriving back at the hotel, there was no message. This seemed very strange. It was now noon. As our minds began to search for an explanation, we decided that what we thought was “dix heures (10 a.m.),” must have been “douze heures (12 p.m.),” so she had not called because we were not really that late – yet. So back in the Metro and back to Sainte Michel. Another hour goes by, more walking, more searching – nothing. By 1:30, we are at the end of options, so back on the Metro and back to the Hotel. We walk into the lobby of the Hotel and the manager says that she called 5 minutes after we left the last time. We use the Hotel phone to call her on her “portable.” She has been looking for us since 10 that morning as well. She is still waiting. She instructs us to meet her at the main entrance of the Luxembourg Gardens. We get back on the Metro, taking it this time to Luxembourg Gardens Metro station.

When we got off at Luxembourg, we walked several blocks to the main gates of the Gardens. . . nothing, no Geneviéve. I then thought I would walk up to the plaza that fronts the Gardens, another several blocks . . . nothing! I then headed back to Polley . . . nothing! Back to the plaza . . . nothing! Back to Polley . . . nothing! Finally, in desperation, I begged, in French, with a kid to let me borrow his “portable” so I could call Geneviéve and find out where she was. 15 minutes later, at about 2:30 in the afternoon (5 hours after the adventure began), we found each other. Geneviéve had been doing the same thing we had been doing. Walking between Sainte Michel and the Gardens. How we had missed each other, we will never know. And the fact that she had stuck with, was amazing. Frustrated, embarrassed, and tired, we sat and had lunch and eventually laughed about it over a bottle of wine and a couple of Croque Madames! The only saving grace, was that it was a glorious day and all of France was outside.

Following lunch, we did take time to stroll about the Gardens.

As I said, it was a beautiful day. We just strolled about, first passing the Palais du Luxembourg


As you can see, the flowers were brightly in bloom




I particularly liked this one, as when one stepped back, the girl's hair and suitcase perfectly matched


Geneviéve, who also is a wonderful photographer, was our guide as we wandered the grounds. She is also a real card, as you can judge from her serious moment here with The Thinker


Most of what we did was to visit the array of sculpture the Gardens offer




Some quite recognizable: The Statue of Liberty, dedicated to the victims of 9/11


Others of various periods and subjects




This one is of an actor, if you couldn't tell:


The one thing that was quite amazing was that primarily at the Gardens, you are not allowed on the lawn. Chairs are set up in the walkways and people sit and look out at the lawns and flowers, and sculptures. Occasionally there is a fountain or two. However, there is one area, called the Pelouse, where we people can sit on the ground and, as you can see there was barely an inch of ground to spare:



It was truly a wonderful late afternoon. All the misunderstandings, and missed opportunities were forgiven and forgotten, as you can see from this picture of Polley and Geneviéve


As always with Geneviéve, she insisted on driving us back to the hotel and we all insisted that this was not goodbye, but simply à bientôt!

Ah, Paris!

We have traveled to and returned from from Paris! We left last Wednesday, 30 avril, and took the TGV fast-train to Paris. It takes about 5 ½ hours as it goes from Toulouse, non-stop, to Bordeaux and then directly to Gare de Montparnasse, Paris. We arrived mid-afternoon Wednesday, and the weather was cool. Sadly, we were leaving what looked to be a very nice day in Toulouse. However, the weather has certainly changed and spring/summer are on the way.

We took a cab to the Hotel de Blois in the Montparnasse area, just off the Avenue du Maine. This was a Jeff Gauthier recommendation and it was an area we had not stayed in before as we could not get into our regular place, L’Hotel des Allies. Paris was very busy and many hotels were full.

The Hotel de Blois is a small, family-owned, one-star hotel on the Rue de Plantes. It is run by very nice people, but our room was very small. The room had obviously just been redone and the bathroom had brand new sink, toilet and shower stuffed into a a former small closet (perhaps a reconditioned phone booth). I have never seen a smaller complete bath. When you sat on the toilet, you rested your chin on the sink. It was perfect for one who might be hung-over! I could only flush the toilet by reaching between my legs! Is this too much information? It seemed to me that the hotel must assign certain rooms based on the girth of their guests. Polley and I were just barely a suitable size. They were probably holding out until the last for midgets!

While we were in Paris, our having spent a month in Toulouse seemed to lessen the impact of our visit to the big city. On Thursday, the sun came out and we did venture over to the Les Halles area and wandered around St. Eustache, with the wonderful Giant Head sculpture.



We walked by the Pompidieu Centre, which seemed just a bit faded from our first visit to it in 1978 only a year after its opening. It no longer seems very outrageous. Then, we started down the Rue de Rivoli, passing by the famed L'Opera.


We had then planed to do some serious window shopping, which the French call léche-vitrines: window licking! However, we soon discovered that as it was the 1st of May, it was a holiday in France. And if there is anything the French are serious about beyond food, drink and conversation, it is taking their holidays. Nearly everything was closed. As the weather was not great, we wandered about some and then returned to our hotel and went out for some lunch, but did very little else beyond walking about the neighborhood.

The next day we would get in some window licking by visiting the famed LaFayette Galleries. This is a huge shopping mall for those with beaucoup bucks!



Based on the prices, I could see where one’s mouth would drop open as they looked at the price tags. There were some wild displays, not just there, but in a great many French stores. In Paris, store windows are a real art!




However, what I think was confirmed on this trip is what we have been coming to suspect during this winter and spring. We really travel for people. It is really about meeting new people and revisiting old friends. We enjoyed just sitting in a little café called Felice’s and watching life unfold in the neighborhood we were staying in. There were very few tourists, virtually no English spoken (except for our hotel) and just the stores and business necessary for day-to-day living. We got to be regulars in a very short time. Waiters knew what we ordered and began to more comfortably converse with us.

Mostly, however, this visit was about reuniting with our dear friend, Genevieve Galman. We met Genevieve and her husband, Jacques, at a restaurant in fall, 2001. We kept in contact via e-mail and revisited them in spring, 2002. They took us into their home for dinner and then took us out for a most memorable day at Monet’s home, Giverny. They gave us our beloved Pierrier Jouet champagne glasses; it became a very significant friendship. In 2005, Jacque passed away and we had not been back to Paris or to visit Genevieve since. This visit was not only to renew the friendship, but also to see how she was doing since losing a very important part of her life. The answer, all things considered, is very well. On Thursday evening, we met her at a famous Paris rendevous, Le Chartiers. This is a restaurant right on the edge of the Montmartre that has been in continuous operation since 1896. It has retained the menu and the style of the last 19th century. In the ambience of the Victorian period, male waiters in long aprons bustle about.




When we arrived there was a line out to the street waiting to get in (they take no reservations). In among all those people we found Genevieve. The line of people moved quickly and in a half hour we were seated, quickly renewing our connections to Genevieve.


While the restaurant is a bit touristy and the food is not anything special (I thought of it as the French version of the Spaghetti Factory). It was not the best place to try and carry on a conversation, especially since Genevieve has NO English. She, however, is very expressive and we managed to discuss family, and politics with seemly little difficulty.


Any evening with Genevieve has to include a drive around Paris at night.


Genevieve loves to drive fast with American music blaring out of all speakers. She could easily make a living as a cab driver it she choose! Eventually the tour came to an end and she poured us into our hotel. Actually, Polley and I had to go over to Felices’ for a last glass of wine as we unwound from an evening of working very hard to understand and speak à française!

The next day the weather was even more beautiful and we headed to back to the Rue de Rivoli. From there we went to an special exhibition of the Chinese “Eternal Soldiers (Les Soldats de l’Éternité). These are the life-size terre-cotta sculptures that were created to pay respect to the warriors of the 9th century. An exhibition of copies of these has traveled the world, but these were the actual originals. It was most impressive. Unfortunately no photographs were allowed. But we had a marvelous time at the exhibit. Beyond that, we mostly strolled about. Paris was very busy. It used to be that June 1 was a date that you counted on for the tourist crowd to arrive. Now, I think, the city is packed all the time. There were not many Americans, but there seems to be hundreds of couples, families, etc. from Eastern Europe. Sidewalks, cafes, crosswalks were almost impossible to navigate. We longed for our quiet neighborhood and made our way back, as were having dinner at Genevieve’s home that evening.

We, of course, needed to rest up for another evening of operating totally in French, but when we arrived at 8 p.m., we were delighted(and a little relieved) to find that Genevieve had invited a gentleman friend to join us. This is a man she has met since Jacques passed away. His name is Christian. He is a charming man, a former doctor, who not speaks English, but also has Italian, Spanish and a fair amount of Arabic. He is retired, but donates a great deal of his time to Mercy Corps; he is very active as one would have to be to keep up with Genevieve. And, of course, to the relief of everyone, there was an interpreter and we could all sit back and relax and enjoy a fabulous evening. And we did!



It was a French meal. We had to start with appetizers and champagne. Then, we sat down to an avocado mousse with salmon caviar on top. This was followed by hot foie gras on toast with warmed apples. Then it was a salad, then the cheese course and then dessert.



This, of course, was accompanied by the rest of the champagne and two delicious bottles of Bordeaux wine. Christian is a wine expert as well as a most delightful man. He seems a perfect partner for Genevieve and it is clear that she enjoys his company. Jacques would be a very tough act to follow, but she seems to have found a man up to the task!


As the evening was coming to an end, it is always mandatory to take your glass of brandy or pastis and walk over to Genevieve's window and enjoy the Paris skyline from the 32nd floor of her building.


Genevieve always insists on delivery guests home personally. She will not allow anyone to take the metro at night. So, after midnight, Christian delivered us back to our hotel. Again, keyed up by an unforgettable evening, Polley and I returned to Felices’ for wine (just what we needed) and conversation that allowed us to sort of debrief our sensual overload. It was a glorious Paris night and we sat outside at the café until after 1:30 in the morning, before staggering across the street to our hotel. As I say, it is the people that we love and our hosts by the time our heads had hit the pillow, had moved to the top of our list!

We had one more day in Paris, but that was an adventure on its own, so I will save it for the next entry: Lost in Luxembourg, for next time.!