Ah, Toulouse

Today is my last day in Toulouse.  I'm so glad I stopped here!  It wasn't originally on my must-see list but I'm so happy I didn't miss out.  But, as cities go, it's pretty small, so I'm looking forward to moving onward.

Yesterday morning I woke up to gray skies and, pretty much the instant I left the hostel, it started drizzling.  Then, raining.  Kudos to dad for insisting I pack that cute sized umbrella, because I needed it.  I had heard about Le Couvent des Jacobins via a blog about Toulouse I stumbled on, so I trudged in that general direction wondering if getting soaked would ultimately be with the effort.  As I ducked into the empty cathedral out of the rain, I stopped short.

Um, wow.  Just, wow.  Neither words nor pictures can capture the magnificence of this building.  It takes a few minutes to even start absorbing the details.  Like how the light blue stripes in the ceiling are painted with perfect, tiny stars.

And the way sound echoes; a single person whispers and you hear it vibrate through the entire space. And the colors!  Oh the colors.

Then I discovered the giant mirror below one of the columns, which reflects the entire space back at you.  

 Sorry Notre Dame, you cannot compete.  If you ever, ever have an opportunity to come to Toulouse, go to Les Jacobins.  It is just stunning.

Here's a little history for you:

Les Jacobins is a Dominican monastery which was built in 1229.  Eat your heart out, young America.  For many years classes for the first University of Toulouse were held in the city's monasteries and convents, in particular at Les Jacobins, the bell of which was used to mark the times for class.  St. Thomas Aquinas' relics are currently housed here.  During the revolution, the monastery was transformed into barracks and the cloister was partially destroyed, but because of its strong identity it attracted the attention of the first inspector of Historical Monuments, Prosper Mérimée, and renovation therefore got underway.  

But, it gets better.

For an additional 4 euros, you can wander the rest of the property.  Including The Cloister, The Chapterhouse, The Reflectory, and Saint Anthoninus Chapel.

The Cloister.

I spent some time hanging out, listening to the rain.  Magical.

The Chapterhouse.

The Reflectory.

The tower bell.

Rain and cobwebs.

Saint Anthoninus Chapel.

I saw the ceiling and said "oh wow!" out loud which of course echoed like crazy and sounded deafening in that silent space.

By the time I left the rain had let up and I wandered back towards Le Capitole, looking for a little lunch. After a few days of eating street faire food and sandwiches from the local bakery, however delicious, I had decided I really wanted to sit down and have a real meal in a real restaurant.  And that's when I let my nose lead me to nirvana, also known as, Lebanese food.

Yes, I know, I'm in France, but they have these little Middle Eastern joints everywhere and not only was it really reasonable there was the owner behind the counter making flatbread and his wife next to him making the accompanying side dishes and you could smell the deliciousness down the block.

It was perfect.  The salad was full of spice (horseradish in the dressing?  Is that insane?), the little side dish with veggies and bulgur was delightful, the hummus was so good I had to restrain myself from licking the bowl, and the shawarma hit the spot.  Happy, happy Swan.

So afterwards I wandered back through the market where I finally bought the scarf I'd been eyeing for days (it's cashmere, oh la la) and also something called a Basque cake, which turned out to be an exceptional idea.  The cute little nondescript looking thing was filled with custard.  I love custard.  I love it so much I bought myself another mini cake tonight when I went to le Capitol.

But to continue.

I then took a walk over to the Japanese Garden that's near my hotel, where I dawdled until it started to drizzle again.  It is a gorgeous little place.

Pathway leading up to the Japanese garden entrance.

That little red bridge is just so cheerful!

Frankly, I don't think he looks very meditative, he looks a little grumpy, but hey.

And then I proceeded to spend a quiet evening at the hostel reading the rest of a book.  Dinner was bread and cheese and macarons.  Very old lady of me.

This morning both my roomies left, so once again I had the place to myself for a bit before taking off for another day of exploring.  As an added bonus, it turned out to be a bright and sunshiney day with not a single cloud in the sky.  Which meant it was a tad colder but nothing like Paris.  As long as I can feel my fingers and my face, I'm good to go.

I decided to check out the Musée Saint-Raymond, which is a quick jaunt from my hostel and specializes in antiquities.  Think, lots of Roman looking marble statues, etc.  They kindly gave me an audio tour wooftie heaptie (that's dad-speak for "thingamajig") which made it way more interesting and as a consequence I spent a couple hours dawdling my way through.  As it turns out Toulouse is way more ancient than I had given it credit for.  But on a sadder note most if not all of the sites where they located the artifacts for the museum have since been turned into car parks or shopping malls without any trace left of the history underneath.  Way to go, guys, way to go.

This was a sacrificial table where they would place offerings for the gods to be burned.  I know it was more likely fruit and meat and such, but I kept thinking ancient Maya and therefore all the more gruesome possibilities.  Shows you where my mind goes if you give it free reign.

If you can't handle nudity, Europe is not for you.  

Now, I love this; they have this stunning old mosaic that used to be on some rich villa's bathhouse floor just hanging out on the floor in the middle of the aisle.  You could step on it if you weren't paying attention.  The laissez-faire attitude just kills me, it's so amazing.  In the states this would be under plate glass, but here all these ancient artifacts are casually strewn about without any fear.  They trust that people won't do anything destructive or stupid.  And apparently trusting people works.

I cannot even fathom the workmanship that went into something like this!

And, speaking of laissez-faire, just look at this.

Here are these ancient busts of Roman rulers and their children and wives, and there's some sort of group here wearing blindfolds and touching them.  I think it must have been for some sort of art class, they had a whole discussion after touching both female and male busts, comparing the differences.  But can you imagine what would happen if you tried something like this in a lot of places?  I see... Bars.  It took me some serious willpower to reach out and touch one myself because it's so ingrained in me that it's a big no-no.  I kept expecting an angry French lady to come out of the woodwork and start yelling at me.

And do you know who this is?  It's Julia!  (Daughter of Julius Caesar). 

Theater masks.

I found Pan here oddly delightful.  

One of a set of six "medallion" pieces, this is Cybele, a mother goddess.

And this is the goddess of health/healing, Hygieia.

One of the trials of Hercules, this is the Amazon Warrior Queen (Hercules himself has fallen apart but you can see a bit of a foot at the bottom left there).  According to the legends the warrior women used to cut off their right breasts to more easily draw their bows.  That charming tidbit of information will likely stay with me forever.

A whole lot of brawny, naked Herc.  I love that the ancients had this kind of stuff as wall decor.

The final level, the basement, where all the urns and sarcophagi are.

So, that was that.  By this time I was starving, so I made my way to the street faire for some grub.  Which, with the nice weather and it being Sunday, was a zoo.  Nix that idea.

But, Le Capitol is nice, right?

Wandered a few streets over and found a quiet pâtisserie, where I bought myself a tuna sandwich (I swear, they're like crack, they're so good), and the sat in the sun watching people go by while I ate.  I had also decided to hit up the local photography museum, so after lunch I made my way across Pont Neuf towards a different part of town.  Gorgeous day for a walk!

As it turns out, the photography museum was a little underwhelming, but maybe I'm just not artsy fartsy enough for some of that stuff.  

Then I walked back over towards the Japanese Garden because I knew the canal was somewhere behind it, and stopped for a brief repose at this lovely little lake.

The canal was gorgeous as well, and I hung around for a bit before heading back to the hostel for a break before dinner.

It was such a lovely day I was sorry to see the sun go down, but I knew I wanted to hit the street faire one last time and grab some early dinner.  It's all Christmassy and lit up and lovely!

And yeah, if I thought it was packed earlier, oh boy.

Hello, crazytown.  

But, I did manage to score a baked potato stuffed with ham, tomatoes, and cream, and un vin chaud, before retreating to the outskirts to eat.  Delicious.  Of course, I then dove right back into the fray, because why stop when you're full?  One of the most popular foods I had seen over the last few days at the street faire is something called "aligot," which appeared to be mostly melted cheese with perhaps the barest whiff of potato.  Which as it turns out, is precisely what it is.  It's about nine parts cheese to one part potato, but the online definition still insistently says "mashed potatoes with cheese."  Ok, if you say so.  I mean, you can peel it away from the container with your fork and there's no potato residue left.  At all.  It's gooey, cheesy, (mildly) potatoey goodness with garlic and seasonings.  They whip it with a giant whisk so it's light and airy and ohmygod good.  I ate about half of my "small" portion when I decided enough is enough and I gave up trying to stuff more down.

Home was a quick walk and I'll be going to bed pretty shortly as I have an 8am train tomorrow.  Off to Barcelona!  Ironically, one of my new room mates tonight is from Barcelona.  I have the dorm to myself right now and I wish I was more tired but, no dice.  I have about a three hour ride tomorrow and will get to town before I can check into my hostel but I'm sure they'll have a place to drop my bag and I can kill a couple hours finding my way around.

By the way, my hostel in Barcelona where I'm staying for the next week?  It's called "The Hipstel."  No, I'm not joking.  I'm really not sure they could have chosen a more unfortunate name.  But, they have good reviews and a good location so I'll try not to snort derisively in front of any employees.  

Good night, see you in Spain!

~Swan