Toulouse - observations of a New Zealander

So, we are in the 'south of France'. Before I moved here, those words held for me images of fields of lavender, a gazillion grapevines, long, warm, sunny, lazy days, and Peter Mayle getting exasperated with the builders. Now I realise that from one kilometre to the next the landscape changes and from one 'departement' to the next the loyalties, customs and local delicacies change too.

Toulouse is a lovely city. It is OLD and is called la ville rose (the pink city) for the reddish coloured bricks that many buildings are constructed with; they seem to have a pinky-red glow, particularly in the evening sun.

We live to the south-east of Toulouse in a smallish town of Ramonville St-Agne which is a mixture of gorgeous, practical, functional, and sometimes rather surprising architecture. Although I have to say that after two years here I don't notice that rather surprising architecture so much now; rather I just see how practical the buildings are for the intense summer sunshine and the jolly old winter chills. Certainly the newer houses (not the tumble-down old stone farm houses) are built with heat in mind: to protect you from it in the summer, and to retain it in the winter. 

But it is the tumble-down old stone farm houses that turn my head. I love them. I love that they are built out of natural straight-out-of-the-earth products, and that sometimes even a massive great stone can be incorporated as the building takes shape.

Brongely, a village in the Pyrenees mountains

I don't know if I am unusual in this but when I go to little villages or walk through the really old part of Toulouse city my breathe is quite simply whisked away. It is all Just So Beautiful. The colours, the 'grand nature', the timelessness of the buildings, the fact that people have lived and worked in these places for centuries; it's all just a bit much sometimes and I feel like laughing and crying. And remember I grew up in a raw, young country (New Zealand); still in the process of finding its way in the world and forming an identity, developing a culture to call its own (blending European, Maori, Asian and Pacific Island - etc - cultures together), and just being at ease with itself. All of this without centuries of embedded history behind it, like France.

(NOTE: New Zealand was inhabited by Polynesian Settlers who were estimated to have arrived in approximately 1350. New Zealand was formed as a nation when Maori and the Europeans settlers signed a founding document, The Treaty of Waitangi, in 1840. This is celebrated with a national holiday every year on 6 February, and is called 'Waitangi Day'.)

I have had the privilege of being part of the Toulouse Walking Tours, run by Elyse Rivin, who is  unofficially The Most Knowledgeable Person On The City That Is Toulouse that I have ever met. I've seen lots of glorious old wonders through her tours, and been to parts of the city I would not have otherwise wandered through. For example, there is (still) a place in an old Roman amphitheatre here in Toulouse called a 'vomitorium'. I'm guessing that it had something to do with the volume of ruby-coloured alcoholic beverages and quantities of foie gras hamburgers those Romans used to drink and eat (my thoughts only, as I'm not sure the Romans were actually scoffing that much foie gras).

More on my observations to follow.

What is foie gras?

Thanks to both Valerie and Vivienne who suggested to me that this post might be necessary. So here goes. I'm sourcing this information from Wikipedia. The link will be at the end of the post for further reading.

Foie gras (pronounced 'fwa grah' and is French for "fat liver") is made of the liver of a duck or goose that has been specially fattened. In France, this fattening is typically achieved through gavage (force-feeding) corn, though outside of France it is occasionally produced using natural feeding. 

Foie gras is a popular and well-known delicacy in French cuisine. Its flavour is described as rich, buttery, and delicate, unlike that of an ordinary duck or goose liver. Foie gras is sold whole, or is prepared into mousse, parfait, or pâté (the lowest quality), and may also be served as an accompaniment to another food item, such as steak. French law states that "Foie gras belongs to the protected cultural and gastronomical heritage of France."

Gavage-based foie gras production is controversial due to the force feeding procedure used. A number of countries and other jurisdictions have laws against force feeding or the sale of foie gras.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foie_gras

We have friends here in Toulouse who are going to take us to visit a duck farm in the Gers region that is run by their friends, so that we can see how the ducks are fed. Apparently the force-feeding can be done in a quite humane way I'm told, so I'll write about that later.

Today I ate a foie gras hamburger in Carmes, Toulouse

It was D I V I N E. The meat was cooked to perfection (a point), with the right amount of essential herbs and spices, and I'm just quietly wondering whether a little foie gras wasn't tossed into the meat mixture, as it was unbelievably creamy and melty. 

The layers were, in order:

• bun
• cheese, possibly ementhal
• tomato
• a large dressed salad leaf
• the hamburger pattie that could have had a little foie gras mixed in with it, cooked by the angels
• a slice or two of foie gras, just because
• another slice of cheese, but of undetermined variety
• bun

and was served with a healthy dressed green salad with cold oven-roasted tomatoes and sliced red onion, with a few chunky fries on the side.

My friend and I both ordered this, on the name alone, and both felt more than replete at the end of the meal, sadly unable to force any mousse au chocolat down into our protesting bellies. Just enough room for a decaf coffee though, and we staggered off on our respective ways.

The restaurant is called 'Le Comptoir a la Une'. Take a peek next time you hop off the Toulouse metro at Carmes. (11 Place des Carmes 31000 Toulouse 05 61 53 86 30)

I only had a salad for dinner tonight.

Some things I've noticed

This is sort of 'dictated' by my almost 11 year old son, Matthew. 'He' has also written a book (written by me using his voice and perspective) which I hope will be published either by a Major Publishing House (why not?!) or in ebook and print on demand formats (available through Amazon worldwide) soon!

Here's a sample of his (Matthew's) writing style:

CARS

I like cars. There's lots of Renault cars, Peugot cars and Citroen cars here in France, and you don't see so many of them in New Zealand. They are usually little, and they are usually being driven so fast that they are a complete blur and a roar. Most cars in France have dents and scratches. Our car is very French. It's unusual to see cars that aren't French here, although Mum just happens to drive a British Rover car that has the steering wheel on the normal side of the car (right hand side, like in New Zealand). She gets lots of alarmed looks when drivers notice that there is NO DRIVER on the left hand side of our car, or me sitting in the front seat because I am definitely too short to be driving. Mum says they do a 'double-take'. Some of the gypsies who beg for money at the traffic lights get a bit of a surprise too.

An old 2CV car in a narrow French lane, Puycelsi

CULTURE SHOCK

I don't really know what that means. All I know is that things look different here. Nothing is written in English, or if it is, it is for novelty advertising purposes only, Dad says. So to start with you get used to seeing stuff that you don't understand at all. In fact you get really good at just looking and listening, and being really tired for about the first year.

FRENCH CULTURE

Mum is always going on about how much she loves it. As far as I can see, no one here is any more 'cultured' than in New Zealand. The kids eat with their mouths open and try to talk at the same time. Sometimes I want to move tables at school in the canteen because I'm getting sprayed with food while my friends are talking. Gross. There's too much rubbish everywhere too and my sister and Mum are quite worried about that. Sometimes Mum does rubbish collection duty at school in the playground even though it isn't her job! You notice more bonjours and au revoirs here, especially to the adults, as it is can be quite rude to not look someone in the eye and say bonjour (Mum keeps telling me).

FOOD AND DRINK

The food here is quite good and you get to eat more duck and rabbit and turkey and lots of Toulouse sausages and cassoulet and foie gras. The canteen food is sometimes good and sometimes horrible. Dad says that drinking alcohol here is not the big deal it is in New Zealand (or at least people drink in a different way - whatever that means). Maybe it means they drink alcohol here to wash the cassoulet down, rather than to get drunk.

French bread and a bottle of Blanquette de Limoux

FAMILY

What I do see here is that families really seem to like being together and doing stuff as a large group with all their friends. People are generally quite respectful of older people too and seem to use the polite form of the French language. People in the shops are mostly really friendly and helpful too.

HISTORY

I can see too that people have lived in France for ages and ages! Like hundreds and hundreds of years. That's really interesting to think about, and now we have to learn about it at school too. I know stuff about the kings of France now and the years they were in power. There's mind-blowingly old places to visit too and amazing things to see like the old Roman arenas where people were killed by other people or very hungry animals. Yuck. I read lots of Horrible History books too (in English) and I can kind of understand stuff better when they talk about France because I am here and can see it. That's cool.

Bruniquel castle

That's all from me for now. Mum says I have to go to bed because it's a school night. Bye!

Why I've enjoyed reading these books about France

This was previously posted under another (rather dull) heading, so I am now including my thoughts on each book and why I enjoyed reading them. Read on...

Allons Enfants - A New Zealand Family in France, Linda Burgess Well, she's a New Zealand journalist/writer with an ex-All Blacks husband, so it has to be a good read! I have read it several times, mostly to discover tips on how to adapt to life in France and to find out how her children coped the changes. It covers the two periods she and her husband lived in France, and is remarkably moving in places.

My Life in France (Ma Vie en France), Julia Child You can just about hear Julia hooting with laughter as you read this book. I first saw Julia Child when I was a teenager, surfing the three channels we had available on TV at the time. I thought there must be a mistake: why was this overly-loud bossy lady on TV and why was an American teaching French cookery? All my questions and more have been answered by reading this really lovely book. 

Almost French - A New Life in Paris, Sarah Turnbull Another book written by an Antipodean who has moved to France. Sarah is from Australia and moves to France to be with her French boyfriend. I've read this several times too, for the pure pleasure of it and for her wonderful writing. It's a different angle for me though as at the time of writing she had no children so I didn't get the family-aspect that I was wanting to read about, but her observations are fantastic, and I agree, I agree, I agree so often with what she says.

A Year in Provence, Peter Mayle

Encore Provence, Peter Mayle

Toujours Provence, Peter Mayle

A Dog's Life, Peter Mayle All of these books are just a great read. Peter writes in such a joyfully accessible way and makes as much fun of himself as he takes joy in all he finds around him. They make more sense to me now that I live in France. I didn't 'get' them when I lived in New Zealand.

Fete Accomplie - A New Zealander’s Culinary Romance, Peta Mathias

French Toast - Eating and Laughing Your Way Around France, Peta Mathias

Salut! Peta Mathias Peta Mathais (yes another New Zealander - a personality extraodinaire) has devoted many years to living, travelling and cooking in France. I have to have a little lie down between chapters as she crams so much LIFE and JOY into each page, but they are wonderful books, and again, make more sense now that I live here.

My Father’s Glory, Marcel Pagnol

My Mother’s Castle, Marcel Pagnol

The Time of Secrets, Marcel Pagnol

The Time of Love, Marcel Pagnol Oh, these books are just beautiful. Watch the films too and deeply breathe the Provencal air and smell the rosemary and thyme growing wild on the hills. He wrote Jean de Florette and Manon de Source too, which I find painfully evocative and far too sad for me, but that's only because I'm a just a little sensitive and should be braver... But his writing is magnificent and I feel so happy to have read his books.

Sixty Million Frenchmen Can’t be Wrong - What Makes the French so French, Jean-Benoit Nadeau & Julie Barlow A veritable bible of information that I would love to read in an updated form in the second decade of the 21st century. I read this twice before we moved to France and once now that we are here. Extremely thorough and educational, yet entertaining at the same time.

The Discovery of France, Graham Robb You can't go past this one. It combines the history of France with insightful observations as to why France is like it is now. The stories he has unearthed are just marvellous and this has had multiple thumbing-throughs as well. Highly recommended by me!

A Certain Je Ne Sais Quoi - The Ideal Guide to Sounding, Acting and Shrugging Like The French, Charles Timoney

Pardon My French - Unleash Your Inner Gaul, Charles Timoney Fun reads and really helpful too. I'm nodding all the time as I read them. I tried reading the first one when I was in New Zealand but the associations weren't easily accessible then. Now - well, I laugh and cry at the same time when I come across some situation or behaviour in his writing that has stumped or astounded me here in France too.

Of course there are other marvellous books and some not so marvellous, and then some I would actively discourage anyone from reading but on the whole, how can you go wrong with such a magnificent subject as France?

Throwing stones in the Albi river

 

French garden in Albi

View of Albi from behind the cathedral

Abli river and iconic bridges

Behind Albi cathedral, next to the museum. Grand courtyard with cobbled surface.

The two meanings of 'tea'

Example number [too many] of a cultural misunderstanding:

After receiving a very kind invitation from our Welsh/French friends, Dafydd and Patricia for tea on Sunday evening, my first thought was, 'that's very nice of them to invite us around for a meal', while my second thought was more along the lines of, 'but dinner out on a Sunday night is kind of unusual, however as we really like them, we will of course go but we won't stay too long because the children have school the next day'.

I went a little later than the others (lovely husband, Olivia and Edward) as I had to wait for the children's tutor to arrive to help Matthew with his school work preparation for the coming week. So I arrived at Dafydd and Patricia's to find tea being poured from a family sized tea pot, and a lovely coffee tiramisu and a sultana cake half devoured. Delicious! But it seemed kind of strange to start with dessert first. My friend Marijo does that with her children sometimes when her husband is away. She has a back-to-front meal where they start with dessert and finish with a salad and the children love it! And why not?

At one point Patricia and I hopped up to talk about the house renovation plans they have. Hmmmm, I thought, no food preparations in the kitchen, nothing scattered around on the kitchen bench, no French cooking smells wafting from the oven, no French bread sticking angularly out of the flower pot. This could only mean one thing, I thought as the light flickered on achingly slowly in my brain: this was an invitation to AFTERNOON TEA, NOT TO DINNER!

We hadn't even got the hint when Dafydd and Patricia excitedly told us that their daughter was skype-ing from South America in half an hour and that they would be having a lovely long chat with her to plan their holidays together. It didn't even occur to us that we might be a just a little 'spare'. We watched Madagascar 2 with the kids instead.

Ahem. After a small blushing confession that we were in fact a little confused and that in our country an invitation in the late afternoon to 'tea' meant an invitation to 'dinner' (or at least it did for me!), we decided that we would eat whatever was in the house and pretend that the invitation was for dinner after all. 'There's ALWAYS something to eat here!' cried Patricia confidently, 'and I would be offended now if you left!' In fact we all got rather jolly with the kir royale (champagne with creme de cassis - blackberry syrup), and little nibbly goodies that magically appeared. Luckily I had made a French leek and tomato tart for the starter that we were going to have with our 'dinner'. Ahem, again.

Next time we will be sure to request a clarification as to the exact nature of any invitation we might receive (hoping there's a next time, anyway, for the 'crazy New Zealanders who just won't go home').