Categories: uncategorized
Date: 11 January 2006 09:21:08
I fled to the South of France.
I was aiming for Montpelier but the best flight was to Toulouse arriving late in the evening and, rather than book a hotel in advance, I thought I would just arrive and see what I could find.
As I've said before, I've some fond memories and some odious memories of France, but I was in a fairly positive frame of mind at the time. After all, the South of France is almost Spain, and in January that's exactly what a body needs.
I always find it a little unnerving travelling without everything planned, but I'm starting to develop a taste for it. And arriving in Toulouse with just a small rucksack (I hate having hold baggage so avoid it whenever I can) I really savoured the chance of wandering around looking for an appetizing and affordable hotel. In fact I found one pretty quickly, with a good room and a receptionist who, despite my ropey French, I had no problem understanding. So after checking in I even asked him for advice about where to eat. He recommended a (posher) hotel over the road, so I asked if it was expensive. His reply joined a select few phrases I've heard that have lodged themselves verbatim in my head: "Non, non, non, c'est correct". For some reason I just love that phrase. Some French phrases are just beautiful (I remember someone in a lecture describing something as "un problème trés vache" which also rates as one of my favourite phrases), but also the way they use English is lovely. And the implicit concept that food has a specific, measurable value, and that one can state confidently whether a price for a meal is correct or incorrect, speaks of a sure and reliable world that I wish I inhabited.
As it was, I looked at the other hotel and wasn't too impressed so looked elsewhere and eventually got myself an incredibly filling cassoulet (it's almost obligatory in Toulouse). I was practically the only person in the restaurant, but with a full belly and a glass of very cheap (but perfectly drinkable) wine in my hand I just enjoyed the wonderful sensation of being in a country where eating is one of life's most important pleasures, and eating on your own in a restaurant is a perfectly acceptable and delightful thing to do. I then rolled home to bed ready to catch the 6am train to Montpelier.