Showing posts with label Toulouse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Toulouse. Show all posts
18th June 2017
Him indoors is upset. His prized Land Rover has been sold to a dealership in Toulouse. Well, I say sold, but where's the money? Their ads say 'Guaranteed - your money within 24 hours'. So Wednesday, in 40 degree heat, we first tootled to Albi to pick up a hire car, followed by a hazardous two vehicle drive down the motorway, me driving the LR, Him following in the unrecognisable hire car - both with GPS voices telling us to go in different directions! At last we found the dealership, signed the paperwork and waited for the transfer of a large amount of money into our French bank account....and waited....and waited. Now Sunday. No car. Still no money, and our bank is shut Mondays. It'd better be there Tuesday or else. Meantime, the saga of our English bank continues. Thursday, they agreed by email a small amount of compensation for all the stress over their threat to freeze our account. All sorted then? No. Friday we received by standard post yet another letter, returning our previous id documents, saying they are unacceptable. Right hand:left hand syndrome? Words fail me. So tired. This leaving is so so difficult. Like the GPS all I can hear in my head: Take the exit, take the exit.
22 June 2014
Two friends from Birmingham are visiting and it feels so good. Although I like all the 'material' things here - the sun, quality of light, bien manger - it's the internal things I miss most like chatting to old friends I grew up with. There's nothing like kindred spirits who knew you, your family and shared things from 50 years ago. Yesterday we took La Croisiere boat ride along the Canal du Midi in Toulouse. An interesting journey, where 3 canals merge before flowing into the river Garonne. As we negotiated the lock gates, it reminded me of the old canal in Birmingham, running past the University to Gas Street Basin. For lunch, of course, we ate at my favourite place, La Faim des Haricots, before wandering around Place Capitole, listening to all the music in celebration of World Music Day. Wonderful day. Hot, not a cloud in the sky, happy people everywhere - not like back home where gloom abounds following England's failure in the World Cup. Will just have to turn our attention to the French team I suppose. Allez les bleus! As Him indoors says: nothing To-Lose.
15 June 2014
'Tis the season. Too hot, too many flies and England lost again. But we had a good time with our son, taking in the usual sights of Albi, Toulouse and St. Antonin. I even managed to cook something different every night, even though he's vegetarian. Not much choice in restaurants: the French never understand. So, congrats again to Les Faim des Haricots in rue Puits Verts in Toulouse (just off Place Capitole). Wonderful range, from the hot spinach quiches which I love, to the curry-style rice that the 'boys' liked. This time Jon took the Stansted to Rodez route. The ticket price of just 45 pounds return was just too cheap to resist, even though Ryannair takes every opportunity to charge extra for everything. I'm always good at taking the 'scenic route' when trying to find places first time, and this was no exception. Rodez was easy enough to find, but the airport? It was only at the 3rd attempt, hitting Rodez from the opposite(!) direction, that at last we hit the Ave de Decazeville and the tiny airport. For some reason it's well-signposted from this direction.. Probably cost us more in petrol than aviation fuel....oh well, old habits die hard.
8th December 2013
Toulouse, busy with shoppers. Le Metro its usual Disney ride, one minute up and over the city streets, the next whizzing to Capitole in the heart of the city. Metro announcer eclectic with French and Occitan announcements. Everywhere people, everywhere noise, everywhere life. Just what we needed. The wooden chalets had gift ideas and traditional handicraft like wooden toys, pottery, jewellery, candles, clothing, leather goods and food. Lots of it. Everywhere people sitting on stone bollards eating aligot, a local dish made from mashed potato and cheese. Had to steer Him indoors away from the smell of mulled wine and hot chestnuts - reminded us of a time long ago in Birmingham, where a little man used to sell them with baked potatoes from his black cart, just off New Street. Ah, those were the days.
Now I don't have to avoid invitations on Mondays, said Him Indoors, clutching a new pack of socks from C & A's. Why? He used to have 7 pairs of socks, each with a day of the week, but had lost Monday's. Now, we're available again any day. Gott sei dank!
Now I don't have to avoid invitations on Mondays, said Him Indoors, clutching a new pack of socks from C & A's. Why? He used to have 7 pairs of socks, each with a day of the week, but had lost Monday's. Now, we're available again any day. Gott sei dank!
28th April 2013
Tragedies in Boston or around the world show that men get frustrated. How often do you hear people say '...you just don't understand me'? It's not easy to eradicate underlying deprivation and troubles in life, but you can do something to ease the frustration of it all.
50+ years ago I couldn't understand why I was terrible at some school subjects but good at languages. Eventually I figured it out. Girls were expected to have background knowledge in subjects like domestic science (and I had none!), whereas in French and German I started on a level playing field with everyone else. Now, I couldn't possibly live here without being able to communicate in shops, with workmen, on the telephone etc. Language is an amazing tool. It opens up worlds that would be closed to you otherwise. On the Toulouse metro I marvel at the automatic announcements in both French and the mediaeval Occitan: 'La prochaine station est La Roseriae, .......Roziado'. The French (not noted for their language skills) are at last cottoning on: '...It's a weak point of the education system that pupils learn grammar but don't practise talking and interacting enough...' says Claudia Senik, Professor at the Sorbonne.
So, one answer to the world's problems = language = communication. Stop the violence - not by buying yet more guns, but by learning to communicate. It's the only way.
50+ years ago I couldn't understand why I was terrible at some school subjects but good at languages. Eventually I figured it out. Girls were expected to have background knowledge in subjects like domestic science (and I had none!), whereas in French and German I started on a level playing field with everyone else. Now, I couldn't possibly live here without being able to communicate in shops, with workmen, on the telephone etc. Language is an amazing tool. It opens up worlds that would be closed to you otherwise. On the Toulouse metro I marvel at the automatic announcements in both French and the mediaeval Occitan: 'La prochaine station est La Roseriae, .......Roziado'. The French (not noted for their language skills) are at last cottoning on: '...It's a weak point of the education system that pupils learn grammar but don't practise talking and interacting enough...' says Claudia Senik, Professor at the Sorbonne.
So, one answer to the world's problems = language = communication. Stop the violence - not by buying yet more guns, but by learning to communicate. It's the only way.
24th June 2012
Last week was the Journee du Patrimoine, its 2012 theme being food. I'd invited five new friends round to chez-nous. As usual, I panicked. It all started when we'd been invited round to lunch in Toulouse one Saturday a few weeks ago. We had a great time, walking through the beautiful Jardin des Plantes near the Esquirol metro, and meeting all these lovely new people. But now it was my turn. First worry: the menu. Our French guests had roots in five different countries, and our veggie son also had to be accommodated, so I didn't want to disappoint. Watching the culinary horrors of 'Come Dine with Me' on TV, I realised the best way was to cook everything in advance, so I prepared chilled fresh tomato soup, slow-cooked goulash (for our friend from Russia) with potato latkes and red onion pie (for our son), followed by fruit compote with cherries and other fruits from our garden. A minor disaster: one fruit compote dish fell over in the fridge directly onto a soup dish below! Fortunately, the tinfoil cover took the damage. How did it go? T.G.: a resounding success, so much so that our Russian friend wants to buy my cookbook! But, Him indoors nearly ruined everything when they arrived by saying he was on a seafood diet: 'when I see food, I eat it'.....
8th January 2012
We'd bought one of those 'Pack Illimite' vouchers, which means our regular train rides to Toulouse cost just 9 euros return. Much cheaper than those exorbitant prices in the UK. But, what on earth are those yellow 'Compostage' machines at the station? Him indoors says that, at home, we put grass cuttings in ours. But, realisation dawned. Tickets are open-dated, so when you're about to catch a train, you need to show the inspector your ticket's been stamped with that particular day and time. Now, no more hiding under the seats at sight of a peaked cap.
Toulouse was its usual bustling self, despite the rain. First, I needed a get-well card for a friend back home, so looked in a large papeterie. No joy, so Him indoors was reduced to acting like a 'lame duck' for the amusement of the shopkeeper. At last, he cottoned on. 'Ah, retablissement'. Should've realised that! Next, a trip to C &As. But, being a lady of quite ample proportions, I was not pleased that the changing-rooms had ill-fitting curtains and they allowed men inside the area who could stare in! Oh well. Time to get back to Matabiau station for the short ride home. But, you've guessed it, couldn't make out which platform (voie) to take. No monitors at all at platform level. Oh, Mr. Porter, what shall I do.....Will we ever get used to living here? Only time will tell.
Toulouse was its usual bustling self, despite the rain. First, I needed a get-well card for a friend back home, so looked in a large papeterie. No joy, so Him indoors was reduced to acting like a 'lame duck' for the amusement of the shopkeeper. At last, he cottoned on. 'Ah, retablissement'. Should've realised that! Next, a trip to C &As. But, being a lady of quite ample proportions, I was not pleased that the changing-rooms had ill-fitting curtains and they allowed men inside the area who could stare in! Oh well. Time to get back to Matabiau station for the short ride home. But, you've guessed it, couldn't make out which platform (voie) to take. No monitors at all at platform level. Oh, Mr. Porter, what shall I do.....Will we ever get used to living here? Only time will tell.
16th October 2011
Toulouse yesterday. Place Capitole vibrant. Everyone looked happy. What a difference to our Birmingham UK origins, where typically a customer would greet a retailer with the memorable lines: 'I don't s'pose you've got one of these' - almost not entering the shop, so sure was he that they wouldn't have one!
And there, right on the corner, was C & As - last heard of in Corporation Street, Birmingham decades ago. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until I walked through the doors. Picking up a dress, there were the old familiar 'Sixth Sense' and 'Canda' labels. And, oh joy, large-size tops. Now at last I could actually choose something, instead of grabbing anything, anywhere that was near to fitting me. Just like old times. Except, footwear. French women everywhere have small feet, and women's shoesizes stop at size 41 (UK size 7). What am I, with size 8 (French size 42) supposed to do? Clomp around in men's shoes? I asked the saleswoman why, and memorably she said 'Oh, I have the same problem too'. Well, order bigger sizes then!!
Him indoors was O.K. though. Everything fitted him well. But, he then insisted on buying a 7-pair pack of socks. All well and good until we got home and saw that each pair was emblazoned with a day of the week. I knew what would happen: Wednesday'll get mixed up in the wash with Sunday, and because of his increasing longsightedness, each foot, each day, will display different days. A veritable 'Feet (fait) accompli'!
And there, right on the corner, was C & As - last heard of in Corporation Street, Birmingham decades ago. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until I walked through the doors. Picking up a dress, there were the old familiar 'Sixth Sense' and 'Canda' labels. And, oh joy, large-size tops. Now at last I could actually choose something, instead of grabbing anything, anywhere that was near to fitting me. Just like old times. Except, footwear. French women everywhere have small feet, and women's shoesizes stop at size 41 (UK size 7). What am I, with size 8 (French size 42) supposed to do? Clomp around in men's shoes? I asked the saleswoman why, and memorably she said 'Oh, I have the same problem too'. Well, order bigger sizes then!!
Him indoors was O.K. though. Everything fitted him well. But, he then insisted on buying a 7-pair pack of socks. All well and good until we got home and saw that each pair was emblazoned with a day of the week. I knew what would happen: Wednesday'll get mixed up in the wash with Sunday, and because of his increasing longsightedness, each foot, each day, will display different days. A veritable 'Feet (fait) accompli'!
24 July 2011
It was our wedding anniversary, so spent the day in Toulouse. Balma/Gramont metro only has one line and is the terminus, so what could go wrong? The car park barrier, surprisingly, was open. We love the metro: easy maps on the walls and a voice which announces in advance each stop. Must have known we were there.
The day started to go awry at lunchtime. Thought smoking had been banned in restaurants, but apparently not under canopies. What is it with smokers? They think it's perfectly acceptable to light up after their meal and, infuriatingly, rest an elbow on the table and bend their arm away from their face, so a continuous stream of smoke blows into yours! Ruined our whole meal. Next, the heel came off my shoe, and the local shops only stocked women's shoes up to size 41 (I take 42, size 7 in UK). Nothing for it then but to kick both shoes off and walk in bare feet. Luckily it wasn't raining. However, couldn't find the car park. Balma/Gramont has a multitude and it took an age to find it. Didn't help that Him indoors had drunk too much whisky during the day, so was completely out of it by then. And then....all exits from the car park said 'Exit with ticket only' and we didn't have one!
A good anniversary? Him indoors, recalling 44 years ago to the day, muttered 'seemed like a good idea at the time'.
The day started to go awry at lunchtime. Thought smoking had been banned in restaurants, but apparently not under canopies. What is it with smokers? They think it's perfectly acceptable to light up after their meal and, infuriatingly, rest an elbow on the table and bend their arm away from their face, so a continuous stream of smoke blows into yours! Ruined our whole meal. Next, the heel came off my shoe, and the local shops only stocked women's shoes up to size 41 (I take 42, size 7 in UK). Nothing for it then but to kick both shoes off and walk in bare feet. Luckily it wasn't raining. However, couldn't find the car park. Balma/Gramont has a multitude and it took an age to find it. Didn't help that Him indoors had drunk too much whisky during the day, so was completely out of it by then. And then....all exits from the car park said 'Exit with ticket only' and we didn't have one!
A good anniversary? Him indoors, recalling 44 years ago to the day, muttered 'seemed like a good idea at the time'.
3 July 2011
And so the adventure continues.....
We need to make regular trips to the 'pink city' of Toulouse, so decided to buy one of the new Pack Liberte tickets which allows 12m unlimited returns with reduced prices for ancients like us. Yesterday we tried it out. Problem 1 (you didn't really think everything would go smoothly, did you?): no trains! Work on the line preparing for the new TGV service Bordeaux to Toulouse. By the time we turned up at le Gare Gaillac, no turning back, so we boarded Le Car - a surprisingly comfortable and efficient coach and joined the French holiday crowds on all roads south. Problem 2: I've realised I'm a machinaphobe. Couldn't fathom the high-tech ticket machines at the Matabiau Metro and needed the inevitable 'young person' to show me how! This, despite my super high-speed typing skills from another age and my university degree. N'importe quoi. The big surprise was the layout on the Metro platforms. Closed electronic doors, which suddenly swish open in synchrony and perfect alignment with the incoming train. Reminded us of monorails at Florida airports. So, even if he wanted to, Him indoors couldn't push me under the next train. He said it reminded him of bookmakers of old: what've you got TouLose...
We need to make regular trips to the 'pink city' of Toulouse, so decided to buy one of the new Pack Liberte tickets which allows 12m unlimited returns with reduced prices for ancients like us. Yesterday we tried it out. Problem 1 (you didn't really think everything would go smoothly, did you?): no trains! Work on the line preparing for the new TGV service Bordeaux to Toulouse. By the time we turned up at le Gare Gaillac, no turning back, so we boarded Le Car - a surprisingly comfortable and efficient coach and joined the French holiday crowds on all roads south. Problem 2: I've realised I'm a machinaphobe. Couldn't fathom the high-tech ticket machines at the Matabiau Metro and needed the inevitable 'young person' to show me how! This, despite my super high-speed typing skills from another age and my university degree. N'importe quoi. The big surprise was the layout on the Metro platforms. Closed electronic doors, which suddenly swish open in synchrony and perfect alignment with the incoming train. Reminded us of monorails at Florida airports. So, even if he wanted to, Him indoors couldn't push me under the next train. He said it reminded him of bookmakers of old: what've you got TouLose...
26th September 2010
Our son is here for 2 weeks!
Blagnac airport at Toulouse has changed beyond all recognition since our last visit. Must have been that nasty letter I sent them last year. The arrivals hall no longer has that baggage claim area where the man off the street could saunter in and take bags directly off the revolving carousel before arriving passengers get through passport control! Whilst waiting for the plane to land, I also noticed the brand new litter bins, complete with different 'green' sections for separating your waste coffee cups from newspapers from other dechets...trouble is, the inside was just one large plastic bag, to be disposed of all together!
Yesterday we went on a treasure hunt in the nearby village of Laguepie (literally means 'the wasp' - the locals must have known something). Anyway, it was v. entertaining. It's a global treasure hunt, which you co-ordinate to any area in the world from your cell phone. As we followed instructions, a clue came up: 'detruit par les ducs de joyeuse' (destroyed by dukes of pleasure). We looked up and saw a ruined castle. Sure enough, as we climbed up the hill, the cell phone beeped - 20m to go. And, there was the 'treasure' tucked in a hole in the crumbling wall. Inside a small box was a notebook and pencil to record our message and date and treasure we could exchange for our own. I left a pen.
If you want to play, go to: geocaching.com
Bien amusant.
Blagnac airport at Toulouse has changed beyond all recognition since our last visit. Must have been that nasty letter I sent them last year. The arrivals hall no longer has that baggage claim area where the man off the street could saunter in and take bags directly off the revolving carousel before arriving passengers get through passport control! Whilst waiting for the plane to land, I also noticed the brand new litter bins, complete with different 'green' sections for separating your waste coffee cups from newspapers from other dechets...trouble is, the inside was just one large plastic bag, to be disposed of all together!
Yesterday we went on a treasure hunt in the nearby village of Laguepie (literally means 'the wasp' - the locals must have known something). Anyway, it was v. entertaining. It's a global treasure hunt, which you co-ordinate to any area in the world from your cell phone. As we followed instructions, a clue came up: 'detruit par les ducs de joyeuse' (destroyed by dukes of pleasure). We looked up and saw a ruined castle. Sure enough, as we climbed up the hill, the cell phone beeped - 20m to go. And, there was the 'treasure' tucked in a hole in the crumbling wall. Inside a small box was a notebook and pencil to record our message and date and treasure we could exchange for our own. I left a pen.
If you want to play, go to: geocaching.com
Bien amusant.
10th May 2009
Every so often a day happens which defies description - and not just in the way you'd expect. Yesterday started normally enough. Our son Jon is visiting us for a few days and we enjoyed his favourite breakfast before leaving for a day out. Because of our new secure gate, we decided to leave our dog Bruno - for the first time - in the garden all day whilst exploring the Cite de l'espace in Toulouse.
Toulouse proved to be bright, vibrant and spectacular. We enjoyed a vegetarian lunch at our son's favourite restaurant, Les Faim des Haricots (literally: the hungry beans), in the rue du Puits Vert, a short stroll from the Place du Capitole. En route there were spectacles around every corner: a wedding group, hooting its way through the maze of cobbled streets, brightly-dressed ticket sellers and packed pavement cafes every few feet. No credit crunch there. Le cite de l'espace was an interesting contrast to the Kennedy Space Centre in Florida, with its many outside exhibits and realistic participant moon-walks.
So, we were pretty tired when finally we drove home after our hectic day. I was worried about Bruno and how he'd coped all day without us. But, as we drove up, all seemed well. He was at the gate to greet us, tail frantically waving. However, when I checked for phone messages, there were several agitated calls awaiting from a friend in the village - each one more concerned than the rest: "...it's 11.00 and I've just seen Bruno wandering outside the bibliotheque......it's now 3 p.m. and we've managed to round Bruno up and 'post' him over your fence. He's really distressed..."
How ever did he get out from our locked gate?? Plus ca change, plus la meme chose!
Toulouse proved to be bright, vibrant and spectacular. We enjoyed a vegetarian lunch at our son's favourite restaurant, Les Faim des Haricots (literally: the hungry beans), in the rue du Puits Vert, a short stroll from the Place du Capitole. En route there were spectacles around every corner: a wedding group, hooting its way through the maze of cobbled streets, brightly-dressed ticket sellers and packed pavement cafes every few feet. No credit crunch there. Le cite de l'espace was an interesting contrast to the Kennedy Space Centre in Florida, with its many outside exhibits and realistic participant moon-walks.
So, we were pretty tired when finally we drove home after our hectic day. I was worried about Bruno and how he'd coped all day without us. But, as we drove up, all seemed well. He was at the gate to greet us, tail frantically waving. However, when I checked for phone messages, there were several agitated calls awaiting from a friend in the village - each one more concerned than the rest: "...it's 11.00 and I've just seen Bruno wandering outside the bibliotheque......it's now 3 p.m. and we've managed to round Bruno up and 'post' him over your fence. He's really distressed..."
How ever did he get out from our locked gate?? Plus ca change, plus la meme chose!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
