Au revoir Toulouse

It’s our last night in France. We decided to spend our last full day in Toulouse wandering the streets in the sunshine. For me, this is one of the highlights of the place. The narrow cobblestone streets allow a meandering path which is bound to uncover hidden gems. 

We detoured into a couple of churches and a museum. The kids saw more death and destruction in half an hour than they have seen in their lifetime. The paintings were huge and absorbing, the sculptures fine.

Our hosts in Toulouse have been gracious and accommodating. They will need a break after a week with 5 thumping kangaroos. There were a couple of rough nights for Marie Jo with both of her grandchildren joining us here. Anna was sick, as were a few of us. It is nice to be with family when you are not at your best.

Before I sign off I’ll leave you with a few French pearls that don’t belong anywhere else. Not since Joseph Smith donned the goggles and put quill to paper, has a greater collection of wisdom been compiled.

Bikes are for everyone. Don’t let a skirt stop you.

French people drive French cars (I guess someone has to).

Shopkeepers are usually friendly. It helps if they hear you talking in English first, so they are more patient with your mix of bad French and hand gestures.

People write cheques here when they are shopping. It’s like Taree in the 90’s.

Smoking is for everyone. It’s like the SCG in the 80’s.

Dog poo seems to appear mysteriously,even with out the presence of a dog.

Bikes are for everyone. Don’t let that baby stop you. There is a basket on the front of your bike.

The Euro still has 1 and 2 cent coins. I think I could make my first million by collecting them, melting them down and constructing post-modern sculptures, and selling them back to the French.

Cheese is like a member of the family. It appears at most meals. It has its own room, or at least its own cupboard.

Don’t open a Landcruiser accessory store here. This is far from the land of the 4x4.

Drinking coffee? Go for an espresso.  Anything else is risky. Drink it like medicine if necessary.

The average Frenchy is more stylish than the average Australian. Alas, no chance of me blending in with the locals.

French rugby fans are the same surprisingly harmonious blend of both bogan and elite. Just like home.

I find it helps to sing a little song each time you get behind the wheel. I repeat the refrain “Driving on the right, driving on the right…” until it sinks in. You may prefer rosary beads.

Bikes are for everyone. Don’t let that pacemaker stop you.

Talk about mixed messaged. In French, a swimming pool is a “piscine” (piss-in) and a garbage bin is a poubelle (belle means beautiful). Need I even mention the Eau de Toilette?

Shops seem to be shut as often as they are open. By the time you find the one you are looking for they will usher you out for their lunchtime break.

Bikes are for everyone. Don’t let that IKEA dining setting flat pack stop you.

There is at least one Church for every Christian in France. I wonder which one they would give me.

Au revoir.