Toulouse and Banana Land

Here in the desert, it’s 114 F degrees outside (45.6 C). What a good time to write some more about Toulouse – I really did love that little city! We kept being surprised!

Wandering around the second day, we discovered the lovely and lively Wilson square, with trees, flowers, a carousel, and people of all ages enjoying being – just being.

A peddler had an array of pop cans he’d transformed into lots of ingenious things. When we stopped to admire them, he expected us to buy some, but our backpacks had no room for anything else. Mary tried to explain, with no success. I couldn’t think of any words to help her out, so an elegant-looking older man (our age, probably – I keep forgetting to put myself in that category) came to our rescue and told the man, nicely, we weren’t interested.

A handsome younger man let Mary take my picture with him. It was all quite jolly, this square named after an American president where everyone was in a holiday mood.

At lunchtime, we walked to the immense expanse of the boring and heavily populated Capitole square. Unimpressed, we turned down a narrow street off the square and found a perfect little restaurant called, yes, Banana Land. We were their first customers of the day. “Ici tout est prepare par nos soins,” said the waiter/owner/cashier and second cook. I think it meant that everything was prepared by themselves with care.

The menu was ho hum, but at a table in the darkened back sat a rough-looking man, actually one of the owners, eating something delicious-looking. “Could we have that?” I asked in French.

“Of course.” It was superb -- courgette (zucchini) stuffed with tomato and other things, salad, a fruit drink for me, and a chocolate coconut milkshake for Mary. The zucchini reminded us of a middle Eastern dish, so we foolishly asked if they were Armenian (I forget how we settled on Armenian; it must have been how they looked and how the food tasted, not that we knew much about either).

It took a lot of awkward explanations to get them to understand the question, and then they were adamant, even a bit offended. “French! We have always been French! Our family has always lived in Toulouse” (in French, of course). We wiggled our way out of that, so Mary got her picture taken with one of the owners.

After that, we bought berry tarts at Francois Xavier’s bakery and watched him make croissants.

So much good food meant we better go see something famous before eating again.

The Jacobins is famous for its exquisite ceiling, the oldest in Europe with unique “palm-tree” arches. That sounds like a tourist brochure. Look at the picture and you’ll be as impressed as we were. Now look at the other picture – there’s a huge mirror reflecting the ceiling! Wow! The whole place was super, not just for the ceiling.

I have to include the picture of Mary, pooped. We did eat well that day, and walk well, too.

It wasn’t over yet. The next stop was St Sernin, begun in the 11^th Century. I’m running out of superlatives! The distinctive tower is the highest point in Toulouse. Each wall and arch is painted exquisitely. Just look at that picture and imagine it all over the entire church! Who has that kind of vision and energy!?!

After such rhapsodizing, here’s the soft music that follows -- a quick impression from all over France. Pizza is sold everywhere, with an extremely thin crust. A single pizza overflows a large dish, and toppings are unique. Anything that’s in the kitchen can go on it. One person is expected to eat the whole thing, big as it is, but because there’s not so much bread, it’s easy to do.

Whew! Remember how I said we kept being surprised in Toulouse? I feel it again, writing about it. Go there if you can, but remember to decompress with a stroll along the Garonne river, or a fruit shake at Banana Land after you’ve been overwhelmed by the riches in the city.