Toulouse: Revisited

France has always had a hold over me. It is cliched but true. There is magic in the air: a hint of lavender in the summer breeze, the wafting of croissants and fresh coffee, a shimmer on the cobblestones under the moonlight.

I wanted to share my real-life wonderland with Josh. So on our way to explore China, we took a detour in my beloved France.































St. Sernin Basilica was a stone's-throw away from my residence in Toulouse. It is a landmark of historical significance and personal memory.

One of my favourite scarves was purchased from a stall on market day in the shadow of the Basilica's looming tower.

On our first day in the city, Josh and I ate Cassoulet - duck and white bean stew - at a cafe beside St. Sernin.


















When I lived in Toulouse, Kate became one of my best friends. In her little apartment, protectively tucked behind a pair of foreboding, green doors (doors which are so immense, it could easily be imagined that horses and chariots freely entered in centuries past) we drank tea, prepared for parties and planned our futures.

Seven years later, I was thrilled to see her again, happily nestled into the hills of a Toulouse suburb with Stephane and their baby son Joe.





Wandering about the streets of Toulouse, little had changed. Save for the new rent-a-bicycle kiosks on most major intersections and the development of a a fully-fledged homeless encampment outside my old dorm building - a sparesely wooded area along the Garonne river formerly known for its afternoon flashers and late-night drunkards.





Outside all our old haunts - like Chez Ton Ton - the cafe tables were filled with young, bronzed, smiling polyglots, nattering away in a smattering of languages all at once.

Glasses of pastisse and delicate espresso cups lined the tables and as the southern sunset cast delicate hues across the sky, the red brick buildings of 'la ville rose' radiated their characteristic soft pink glow.