Toulouse, great weekend out of nowhere
In early October, I went to visit a good friend of mine in Germany, and on my way to Germany, I met a guy with whom I spoke during the flight. He told me that he is a student in Toulouse and that if I were interested in visiting the city that he would be happy to welcome me. Knowing me, I immediately took up the offer and searched on-line for a way to get to Toulouse. I know it is a little crazy that I meet someone on a plane, have no idea what he is all about and decide to spend a weekend at his 
apartment, but hey, I am young and adventurous…throwing caution to the wind. That kind of makes it sound as if I am preparing you for an awful account of a trip where everything that could go wrong did in fact go wrong, but it was quite the contrary. I could not have hoped for a better weekend than the one I just experienced. I am writing this account on my seven hour journey by night train from Toulouse to Paris (which I must say are very interesting…me typing on my computer, the girl in front of me with her face mask on and thinking that she is actually going to get a good night’s rest, another guy to my left who is having a conversation I do not understand, and then a real yo-yo in back on me who is singing/talking to himself like a crazy man which is likely the result of having drunk too much before having gotten on the train…not that I can blame him!), balancing my computer on my knees, looking forward to what I have to recount.
When embarking upon an adventure such as this, it is true that you never know what is going to happen, and one way to alleviate any sense of fear or anxiety is just to roll with any possible disruption. A national strike for the SNCF, which is the one train company in France, started on Wednesday night right before I planned to leave for the South. I was a little nervous because the lady of my host family told me that many trains are cancelled and that you never know which are going to be running and which have already been deleted from the program. I took myself to the train station the night before leaving and was pleasantly surprised to find that I would be able to make all my trains, with a little longer layover in Bordeaux…fantastic. I was not at all upset to have to spend an extra hour and a half in a gorgeous city.
With a backpack that weighed more than it should have (I obviously brought my computer and then some books for studying during the down time this weekend, which I actually used surprisingly), I left Angers and made it to Bordeaux, a city I was looking forward to discovering my daytime since the only other time I had been there was at dusk and during the night with my mom just last week. The downtown is lovely, but its quay is even lovelier. I spent about half my time just wandering up and down the quay, staring off into the distance dominated by fall toned trees and buildings aged by the centuries that have passed in front of them. I followed this little old man in a red beret for about 20 minutes, why, I am not really sure, but I was just fascinated by his gait and his serenity. I have
to admit that old people really do intrigue me, maybe because they have lived so much longer than I have and are yet in the same place and at the same time as me – same space and time but what a different perspective. After wandering around for three hours and stopping at two bakeries (what else do I do when I am alone and “discovering” a city?) my back was killing me from the tiresome weight of the backpack. I have never felt so physically destroyed by that backpack…now I know what not to pack if I am planning on doing any sort of walking.
I reached Toulouse early in the evening and waited for my friend to come get me at the train station. I was hoping that I would in fact remember what he looked like, but no problem, we left together, went to the grocery store where we planned out a few meals (he likes to cook almost as much as I do and was not too bad at the whole cooking thing either) then hopped a metro and arrived at his place. He lives with another student, a girl studying psychology at the same school as him. She was great…hippy, relaxed and happy to have a guest in the house. Perfect! I love the space of students, meaning students can get away with just about anything and make it work. They had no matching dishes, cracked mugs, mismatched silverware, of course wine glasses, and no place to actually put any of it, so it all just kind of dried and remained in that same place until it was used again. But, all that being said, it worked, you know. You can eat and drink from the
se things and what’s more, you do not waste time putting things away when you know you are just going to be using them again in several hours. Okay, maybe I am a little more organized than that and probably could never actually live like that, but to become a part of it and to see it in action, I thought it was great. Students just manage and do not think about how the rest of the world does it.
We had fun cooking together in his miniscule kitchen over a stove that really was just four hot plates, but worked for all that we needed it to. We ate a lot of pasta…not surprising, right, I mean I think that is the most classic student dish ever, but we spiced it up a little and made it our own. I made pumpkin pancakes for him and his roommate, neither of whom has ever had pancakes much less those à la Kelsey and Libby’s mashed pumpkin flown in from the US! What a treat and what fun it was to once again cook with someone and enjoy our meals together. For me, one of the friendliest things one can do is to make a meal with another person and share in it together, the preparation and of course the consumption.
Toulouse is known for being a city of students and as the Pink City, and what a city it was! Both were quite immediately evident as I started to walk around the city my first full day. The student aspect was unmistakable as I saw hoards of students walking around center town, gabbing, eating and studying…probably more had the weather been nicer. I also noticed this quality because of the types of stores I saw; this reminded me of Madison, WI in fact. Funky little stores, artsy-craftsy little alcoves, second-hand/vintage hideaways, and then of course the trendy stores that are a part of the essential fashion landscape of almost any town. As for the pink element, this was something quite visually palpable as at least half of the buildings in the downtown area had been made with pink-colored brick, especially vibrant as the sun is setting.
As I just mentioned, my first day in the city was not at all greeted by a band of sunshine and warm temperatures. I thankfully brought warm clothes and my umbrella. I know I have complained about my umbrella before, but I have something more to add…more of a reflection regarding the way I think and less about the u
mbrella itself. So, I had this umbrella which I brought because I knew there was a good chance of rain. Great…well-prepared, check. However, instead of taking that umbrella with me, which would have been the most logical thing since it cannot help me if it stays in my backpack; I left it at my friend’s apartment, thinking that it would not rain. Well, I was wrong, so wrong that in fact it rained almost the whole day, allowing me to practice my philosophy about just accepting whatever comes your way, whatever it may be. I mean, rain and no umbrella is really not a crisis, nor did it ruin my day. I discovered most of the town, taking time to see the quay (yes, I know, I am in love with the riverside) and several of the superb gardens Toulouse has to offer.
I slept on a mattress that served as their couch, and with my picnic blanket that I brought from Angers, I shivered throughout the night until I got the bright idea of sleeping with my nice winter jacket all wrapped around me. This did eliminate a little of the cold, but I cannot say that I slept like a baby. Again, though, this is a great part about being a student. I was there for a weekend to practice my French and to learn how other students lived, not to sleep well on a fluffy bed with nice pillows.
I met a bunch of his friends, all of whom were very nice and funny and added greatly to my memories of the weekend. One of his friends is a sociology major who is working on a project concerning the immigration of students, and his first of two interviews is due this Thursday. Upon finding out that I am American
and studying in France, he asked if I wouldn’t mind participating in the project and undergoing an hour-long interview where he would ask me open-ended questions relating to the subject. I was extremely happy to help him, knowing what it is like to have to interview people and the time it takes to transcribe everything that had been said. Plus, what an experience it was for me to participate in an interview that was conducted completely in French and which turned quickly from one hour to two hours. No, I will remember it for a long time. I mea
n, I have never felt as good about my French language skills as in that moment. It seemed like we were both surprised at how well it went and all that had been said regarding my reasons for being in France, the integration process of a foreign student in France and the biggest changes that have occurred with my daily habits. It is nice to know that I am now capable to talk as much in French as I am in English.
Sunday, I decided that I needed to get out of the city. In fact, cities have little to offer on Sundays. Everything is closed and fewer people are out walking around; so, I bought some tickets to go to the Pyrénées Mountains to go hiking. Unfortunately, I only brought my Converse tennis shoes. This would come back to haunt me, or more specifically, my feet, after a l
ong walk in the mountains. It was the most absolutely perfect day for a hike: blues skies, no wind, crisp temperature. My friend and I descended from the train, ready for a day of adventure, me more than him, I think. It started with the Office of Tourism being closed just for this day, then we asked a bunch of locals how to get into the mountains, all of whom told us different ways of going about it, and finally, with the kind directions of one of the cutest old women I have ever met, we were off.
Exiting the town by road, I was not sure where we would actually find a trail to lead us into the mountains. After turning around a bend in the road, I saw a bridge that led to the other side of a small lake and to a house that was clearly abandoned but which still emanated a certain irresistible charm. Unfortunately, or luckily, depending on how you look at it, the bridge was barricaded by barbed wire and a locked gate, and the same held true for the other side where the gate was also locked. Well, that didn’t stop me, and in fact, put a little excitement into my step. I mean, everything was obviously abandoned; there was no reason why we shouldn’t scale the two gates and step around the barbed wire. From the scaling of the gate of the private property, we found a lovely path into the mountains, which sadly, did not lead to a summit, but instead just wound around breathtaking countryside. We did pass about six herds of cows and were almost run over by one cow who was a little surprised to see us walking in her path. I have never been that scared for my life!
I absolutely love hiking and in fact find few other things, other stimulants, that bring me
this much joy and energy. I love the feeling of bending your body slightly forward as you walk up the incline, and I love the fact that when you stop to look over your shoulder, you see something majestic, a view and a perspective never attained from the bottom. The Pyrénées are lovely, though smaller than the Alps. We went hiking on those that were not yet covered by snow - the smaller mountains or more like hills really. To finish off the grand adventure, we followed a series of signs leading to a small farm that produced goat’s cheese from the milk of their 70 goats. Oh, the goat’s cheese of the mountains…magnificent. It was worth the steep climb to the top where the lone farm stood isolated from the small town below. You just never know what you are going to experience, so with a little prudence, a sense of adventure and willingness to take a chance, and a desire to make some memories, those unknown experiences can really turn into something wonderful. That is what I learned from this weekend.
apartment, but hey, I am young and adventurous…throwing caution to the wind. That kind of makes it sound as if I am preparing you for an awful account of a trip where everything that could go wrong did in fact go wrong, but it was quite the contrary. I could not have hoped for a better weekend than the one I just experienced. I am writing this account on my seven hour journey by night train from Toulouse to Paris (which I must say are very interesting…me typing on my computer, the girl in front of me with her face mask on and thinking that she is actually going to get a good night’s rest, another guy to my left who is having a conversation I do not understand, and then a real yo-yo in back on me who is singing/talking to himself like a crazy man which is likely the result of having drunk too much before having gotten on the train…not that I can blame him!), balancing my computer on my knees, looking forward to what I have to recount.When embarking upon an adventure such as this, it is true that you never know what is going to happen, and one way to alleviate any sense of fear or anxiety is just to roll with any possible disruption. A national strike for the SNCF, which is the one train company in France, started on Wednesday night right before I planned to leave for the South. I was a little nervous because the lady of my host family told me that many trains are cancelled and that you never know which are going to be running and which have already been deleted from the program. I took myself to the train station the night before leaving and was pleasantly surprised to find that I would be able to make all my trains, with a little longer layover in Bordeaux…fantastic. I was not at all upset to have to spend an extra hour and a half in a gorgeous city.
With a backpack that weighed more than it should have (I obviously brought my computer and then some books for studying during the down time this weekend, which I actually used surprisingly), I left Angers and made it to Bordeaux, a city I was looking forward to discovering my daytime since the only other time I had been there was at dusk and during the night with my mom just last week. The downtown is lovely, but its quay is even lovelier. I spent about half my time just wandering up and down the quay, staring off into the distance dominated by fall toned trees and buildings aged by the centuries that have passed in front of them. I followed this little old man in a red beret for about 20 minutes, why, I am not really sure, but I was just fascinated by his gait and his serenity. I have
to admit that old people really do intrigue me, maybe because they have lived so much longer than I have and are yet in the same place and at the same time as me – same space and time but what a different perspective. After wandering around for three hours and stopping at two bakeries (what else do I do when I am alone and “discovering” a city?) my back was killing me from the tiresome weight of the backpack. I have never felt so physically destroyed by that backpack…now I know what not to pack if I am planning on doing any sort of walking.I reached Toulouse early in the evening and waited for my friend to come get me at the train station. I was hoping that I would in fact remember what he looked like, but no problem, we left together, went to the grocery store where we planned out a few meals (he likes to cook almost as much as I do and was not too bad at the whole cooking thing either) then hopped a metro and arrived at his place. He lives with another student, a girl studying psychology at the same school as him. She was great…hippy, relaxed and happy to have a guest in the house. Perfect! I love the space of students, meaning students can get away with just about anything and make it work. They had no matching dishes, cracked mugs, mismatched silverware, of course wine glasses, and no place to actually put any of it, so it all just kind of dried and remained in that same place until it was used again. But, all that being said, it worked, you know. You can eat and drink from the
se things and what’s more, you do not waste time putting things away when you know you are just going to be using them again in several hours. Okay, maybe I am a little more organized than that and probably could never actually live like that, but to become a part of it and to see it in action, I thought it was great. Students just manage and do not think about how the rest of the world does it.We had fun cooking together in his miniscule kitchen over a stove that really was just four hot plates, but worked for all that we needed it to. We ate a lot of pasta…not surprising, right, I mean I think that is the most classic student dish ever, but we spiced it up a little and made it our own. I made pumpkin pancakes for him and his roommate, neither of whom has ever had pancakes much less those à la Kelsey and Libby’s mashed pumpkin flown in from the US! What a treat and what fun it was to once again cook with someone and enjoy our meals together. For me, one of the friendliest things one can do is to make a meal with another person and share in it together, the preparation and of course the consumption.
Toulouse is known for being a city of students and as the Pink City, and what a city it was! Both were quite immediately evident as I started to walk around the city my first full day. The student aspect was unmistakable as I saw hoards of students walking around center town, gabbing, eating and studying…probably more had the weather been nicer. I also noticed this quality because of the types of stores I saw; this reminded me of Madison, WI in fact. Funky little stores, artsy-craftsy little alcoves, second-hand/vintage hideaways, and then of course the trendy stores that are a part of the essential fashion landscape of almost any town. As for the pink element, this was something quite visually palpable as at least half of the buildings in the downtown area had been made with pink-colored brick, especially vibrant as the sun is setting.
As I just mentioned, my first day in the city was not at all greeted by a band of sunshine and warm temperatures. I thankfully brought warm clothes and my umbrella. I know I have complained about my umbrella before, but I have something more to add…more of a reflection regarding the way I think and less about the u
mbrella itself. So, I had this umbrella which I brought because I knew there was a good chance of rain. Great…well-prepared, check. However, instead of taking that umbrella with me, which would have been the most logical thing since it cannot help me if it stays in my backpack; I left it at my friend’s apartment, thinking that it would not rain. Well, I was wrong, so wrong that in fact it rained almost the whole day, allowing me to practice my philosophy about just accepting whatever comes your way, whatever it may be. I mean, rain and no umbrella is really not a crisis, nor did it ruin my day. I discovered most of the town, taking time to see the quay (yes, I know, I am in love with the riverside) and several of the superb gardens Toulouse has to offer.I slept on a mattress that served as their couch, and with my picnic blanket that I brought from Angers, I shivered throughout the night until I got the bright idea of sleeping with my nice winter jacket all wrapped around me. This did eliminate a little of the cold, but I cannot say that I slept like a baby. Again, though, this is a great part about being a student. I was there for a weekend to practice my French and to learn how other students lived, not to sleep well on a fluffy bed with nice pillows.
I met a bunch of his friends, all of whom were very nice and funny and added greatly to my memories of the weekend. One of his friends is a sociology major who is working on a project concerning the immigration of students, and his first of two interviews is due this Thursday. Upon finding out that I am American
and studying in France, he asked if I wouldn’t mind participating in the project and undergoing an hour-long interview where he would ask me open-ended questions relating to the subject. I was extremely happy to help him, knowing what it is like to have to interview people and the time it takes to transcribe everything that had been said. Plus, what an experience it was for me to participate in an interview that was conducted completely in French and which turned quickly from one hour to two hours. No, I will remember it for a long time. I mea
n, I have never felt as good about my French language skills as in that moment. It seemed like we were both surprised at how well it went and all that had been said regarding my reasons for being in France, the integration process of a foreign student in France and the biggest changes that have occurred with my daily habits. It is nice to know that I am now capable to talk as much in French as I am in English.Sunday, I decided that I needed to get out of the city. In fact, cities have little to offer on Sundays. Everything is closed and fewer people are out walking around; so, I bought some tickets to go to the Pyrénées Mountains to go hiking. Unfortunately, I only brought my Converse tennis shoes. This would come back to haunt me, or more specifically, my feet, after a l
ong walk in the mountains. It was the most absolutely perfect day for a hike: blues skies, no wind, crisp temperature. My friend and I descended from the train, ready for a day of adventure, me more than him, I think. It started with the Office of Tourism being closed just for this day, then we asked a bunch of locals how to get into the mountains, all of whom told us different ways of going about it, and finally, with the kind directions of one of the cutest old women I have ever met, we were off.Exiting the town by road, I was not sure where we would actually find a trail to lead us into the mountains. After turning around a bend in the road, I saw a bridge that led to the other side of a small lake and to a house that was clearly abandoned but which still emanated a certain irresistible charm. Unfortunately, or luckily, depending on how you look at it, the bridge was barricaded by barbed wire and a locked gate, and the same held true for the other side where the gate was also locked. Well, that didn’t stop me, and in fact, put a little excitement into my step. I mean, everything was obviously abandoned; there was no reason why we shouldn’t scale the two gates and step around the barbed wire. From the scaling of the gate of the private property, we found a lovely path into the mountains, which sadly, did not lead to a summit, but instead just wound around breathtaking countryside. We did pass about six herds of cows and were almost run over by one cow who was a little surprised to see us walking in her path. I have never been that scared for my life!
I absolutely love hiking and in fact find few other things, other stimulants, that bring me
this much joy and energy. I love the feeling of bending your body slightly forward as you walk up the incline, and I love the fact that when you stop to look over your shoulder, you see something majestic, a view and a perspective never attained from the bottom. The Pyrénées are lovely, though smaller than the Alps. We went hiking on those that were not yet covered by snow - the smaller mountains or more like hills really. To finish off the grand adventure, we followed a series of signs leading to a small farm that produced goat’s cheese from the milk of their 70 goats. Oh, the goat’s cheese of the mountains…magnificent. It was worth the steep climb to the top where the lone farm stood isolated from the small town below. You just never know what you are going to experience, so with a little prudence, a sense of adventure and willingness to take a chance, and a desire to make some memories, those unknown experiences can really turn into something wonderful. That is what I learned from this weekend. 
Comments
http://hubpages.com/hub/toulouse_city