Les Walters

They don't look too bad after almost 24 hours of travel do they?

Welp the rent are here! After over 8 hours of delay my parents finally arrived in Toulouse Friday evening, and I'm sure my father has a few new friends with AirFrance.

We took a little stroll along the river so that they could stretch their legs and see a bit of the city. That night Gisele prepared a really lovely dinner for us along with her partner Gilou, my roommate Gabby, and her boyfriend Geoffrey. My parents are staying at my house in my room and I'm sleeping in the spare room in the house.

After a solid week of preparing the house and planning their visit, they're finally here, and I have to say, I've forgotten a bit what it's like to have parents.

Case in point: I made the mistake of going out Saturday night to unwind a bit after we spent the whole day together with one of my colleagues. We parted ways after we all went out to dinner, and apparently, they couldn't get to sleep until they heard me come home. Sheesh. Apparently I'll "know what it's like when I have kids of my own."

Anyway, Saturday as I said we spent the day with one of my colleagues who took us in her car to an old town called Revel and then picnicked at a man-made lake called St. Ferrol which was designed by the same man who designed the Canal Du Midi that runs from Setes, through Toulouse, and out to Bordeaux and the Atlantic ocean. The lake serves as a main source for the canal and offers parks, hiking and swimming. We spent the whole day outside which I think helped bypass the jet-lag.

Really cool old covered marketplace or "halles" we went to on Saturday in Revel

That evening we went out to a traditional French restaurant in town:  I had duck confit and my Dad tried cassoulet, a very traditional Toulousain bean-duck-sausage dish. The food was great, despite our love-hate relationship with our garçon. When we sat down he seemed a bit miffed that we were 4 instead of 3, and somewhat haphazardly set the 4th place setting, however when I asked him to suggest a white wine, he lit up like a Christmas tree and when he brought the bottle continued to recount the story of the wine and how it is named after a celebration that takes place in small towns when they refurbish old church bells, and auction off barrels of the wine to raise money for the construction. Things took a turn for the worse however when my father asked me to ask for some butter to go with the bread. Against my better judgement, and, ahem, being the good daughter that I am, I obliged, having some idea of what was coming.

Translated version of the conversation:
Me: "Excuse me sir, could we please have some butter when you have a moment?"
Garçon: "What do you want the butter for?"
Me: "To go with the bread."
Garçon: "Have you tasted this bread??"
Me: "Yes. "
Garçon: "No."

He did eventually return with a neat little terrine of butter, but not before saying that this was "exceptional."

You see in France, to ask for butter means that the bread isn't good and that you want to mask the taste by smearing it with butter.

Cultural differences.

We've been having top ten weather so far, 70s and sunny!

Sunday we hit the marché St. Aubin, came home to eat lunch in the garden, and then toured the city on bikes. St. Sernin, Capitole, Place St. Georges,  Jacobins, I hit all the main sights, stopping for questions, comments and photo ops. I should be getting an hourly rate. That evening we made an asparagus and mushroom risotto with ingredients we bought that morning and ate for a second time in the garden with Gabby.

This morning we biked the canal du Midi for 45 minutes, and grabbed a coffee before I had to go into work. Tonight we're going to the last Mangesters dinner at Bonnie and Alberto's, and tomorrow is Carcassonne!

Wish me strength and patience.

A bientôt!