Rachel was arriving quite late via pair of flights, which took her through Charles De Gaulle (because it's difficult to get from London to Southern France on a bank-holiday weekend Friday afternoon) and so I took a trip out to the Toulouse airport to meet her. Her flight was a bit delayed, and CDG had been struggling, so her bag, sadly, didn't catch the same flight. They wound up arriving Sunday afternoon, by the time all was said and done, but we had an incredible weekend all the same.
First, on Saturday we slept pretty late, so once we got up, went out for a pastry and coffee, and ate it, it was basically already lunchtime and we were hungry for a proper meal. So we looked around the neighborhood for some dining options for something more substantial.
We found a place called La Cuisine de Jean (Jean's Kitchen) just a few block set back from the major thoroughfare, in a quiet neighborhood.
It.
Was.
Excellent.
Many years ago, Rachel and I had a lunch at a place we stumbled across in Lyon called Le Bistro Des Voraces that still ranks in my top five meals of all time. This place was fantastic, and while it didn't bring us near to tears the way that Le Bistro Des Voraces did, it was an absolutely perfect way to spend 2 hours at lunch. The Gnocchi was pan-fried in Butter until crispy, the sauce that came with the fish was exquisite and the pork was cooked perfectly. The Pavlova was such a playful, cute little shape and the strawberries were perfectly ripe. The plating choices were really thoughtful. All in all, it was exactly what you want from a real French meal.
Since the weather was perfect, we sat en terrasse (outside, on the street) and watched cars zip around the roundabout and the life of a sleepy French neighborhood play out around us.
Afterwards, having heard only that her bag had been located, we went out hunting for shoes that she could dance in that evening.
We found a lovely ballet and dance supply store in central Toulouse, and while we couldn't find a good set of the sort of "teacher's shoes" that she prefers to dance in these days, we did find her a perfectly serviceable set of Ballet shoes (real Ballet flats, as it were), and we got an incredible view of Le Capitole, one of Toulouse's best known buildings, in the bargain, since it was directly across the street.
Afterwards we did a little wandering and shopping, which was fun, and had a couple of odd moments.
For context, here are a couple of pictures of average buildings in this part of the city -- lots of gorgeous older stock, plenty of beautiful facades and a lot of wrought iron (Rachel pointed out that the Toulouse streets were the place where she saw the cleanest point on the through-line from New Orleans city streets to French ones):
While Rachel was shopping in one particular place, I ducked around the corner to sit and have a cocktail so that she wouldn't feel rushed. While there, I saw a situation play out that made me feel more like I was in Nashville than Southern France.
I was enjoying my Campari Spritz when I heard the single whoop of an Ambulance making its presence known.
I had noticed a couple of bachelor and bachelorette parties in the mélange of people flooding the streets on such a lovely spring day (the sashes labeled #TEAMBRIDE on one group gave them away), but I hadn't realized until this moment when I looked up that Toulouse, as a party town, has the same silly "pedal your bar around the city" nonsense pedal-bar monstrosities that I'm used to seeing in southern party cities.
You know what I'm talking about, they look like this:
So here was one of these stupid things on this narrow Toulousien side street. . . blocking the pathway of an Ambulance with its lights on.
The women on the pedal-bar gave up a shout and began to pedal to the best of their besotted ability but the device isn't exactly build for p e r f o r m a n c e so this had almost zero impact on its velocity, which could only be described as "plodding" (which really isn't a word that should even be applicable to a vehicle with wheels, but here we are.). There were bollards to keep impatient car drivers from running over pedestrians, which kept the pedal-bar in a narrow channel from which it could not escape. The Operator, trapped in a hell of his employment's making, seemed either bored with the whole affair or resigned to the stupidity of it. The Ambulance, to its credit, didn't decide that this situation merited breaking out the real siren just to express its disapproval (and deafening all us poor souls in the cafe as collateral damage).
All I could think as I watched was something like this playing out later on in the day.
_______________A tearful teenager is approached by a doctor with an expression of deep regret.
Doctor [grimacing] : "I'm afraid we were unable to save your mother. The stroke was too far advanced by the time she reached us."
Teenager, busting into tears: "But how is that possible? Her office is only a few blocks from the hospital!"
Doctor [steeling herself to maintain the composure required] "So, uh, about that. . . you know those little, um, pedal-your-own-bar things?"
_____________
I was so shocked by the story unfolding in front of me (and in my mind) that I didn't even think to take a picture until the Ambulance was all the way down the street, on the corner, and the pedal bus wasn't even visible. This despite the fact that my phone was literally in my hand the whole time. Truly, I'd make a trash-tier photojournalist.
The second half of my Campari Spritz tasted a little more surreal.
Anyway.
After that, we decided to grab some dinner before we departed downtown, and we stumbled into a tiny little North African tagine and couscous restaurant run by a mother-son team. Rachel spent a portion of her college years in Marseille and has been a fan of North African style couscous ever since, and regularly bemoans how hard it is to find the comforting meal she craves outside of France.
Our meal (Lamb, Merguez sausage, Couscous, Vegetable stew) was perfect. Simple, fillling, and pretty reasonably priced for a sit-down meal in the old section of a city.
Happy Rachel
We made our way back to our part of town, took a nap, and then stayed out entirely too late dancing.
All in all, an excellent way to spend a Saturday.
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