(We left the apartment at 5:15 AM, so please forgive our early morning sun-ray stricken faces.)
We flew on a plane called Hop, which served les madeleines! I'll take those over pretzels any day!
Toulouse is nicknamed the Pink City because of the type of bricks used in the buildings. The bricks quarried from the area have a unique reddish hue that appear pink when the sunlight hits them a certain way.
The day couldn't officially begin without a fresh pastry. Melissa and I made a quick little stop at a gourmet bakery before we parted ways. My giant pain aux raisins was delish!
After saying goodbye to Melissa, I followed signs to the "Office de Tourisme" where I picked up a map of the city and began my explorations, feeling quite independent.
I meandered my way through the streets, not entirely sure where I was going. With plenty of time on my hands, I stopped at any little landmark that struck my fancy, of which there were plenty.
Basilique Saint Sernin--built in the 5th century in honor of the first bishop and martyr (250 AD) of Toulouse.
This pretty little street is called Rue de Saur and commemorates the bloody end of Saint Saturnin, who, because he refused to adhere to the Roman religious traditions, was tied up and then pulled by a bull through the streets until his death.
Next I made my way to the Couvent des Jacobins--a Dominican monastery built in 1229. It is also the burial place of Saint Thomas Aquinas.
(The pillars were purposefully designed to look like palm trees.)
I had been walking all morning, so decided I'd spend part of the afternoon sipping coffee and people-watching as it is the favorite French pastime and there is always so much to see and take in.
La Place du Capitole was a perfect spot as it is the downtown city square and full of people.
The next morning I decided to head in the opposite direction. I visited la Cathédrale Saint-Etienne and then le Jardin des Plantes (i.e. Garden of Plants--as opposed to a garden without plants?!).
Toulouse has a beautiful canal that runs through the city. In my attempt to find it, I may have wandered off the beaten path for a bit. French streets will fool you into thinking you're going one direction, but because they curve around so much, before you know it, you'll actually be going in a completely different direction. When I realized I had walked so far south that I was no longer on my handy little touristy map, I found the canal (good thing it was pretty!) and headed back north-ish.
By the time I made it back to the main city square I figured I had earned a scrumptious slice of quiche lorraine and tarte aux pommes (apple tart).
In the afternoon, I retraced my steps to the church and found a quieter spot to sit, sip my coffee, and write some postcards.
(My café is the one in the middle.)
Exploring the city on foot also led me to some fascinating and heart-breaking historical plaques.
(Françoise, heroine of the French Resistance, had a little doll shop here. Between 1943 and 1944, she helped organize the smuggling of more than 700 allied and resistant aviators across the Pyrenees into Spain.)
(On the outside of this school wall, this plaque is dedicated to Jean Bloch, a 15-year-old boy who was arrested inside this building by the Gestapo the third of March, 1944, and taken to Germany where he was killed April 17, 1945.)
I'm always struck by the length and depth of history in these French cities. So many stories are still waiting to be told--stories that need to be told!
It was a great 48 hours--and just the start of what's already been a full week of adventures here with Melissa and Joel in France.
The pictures are amazing! Surely not just from your phone? Amazing. . .
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