Back in Toulouse

Ticket to ride

Something typically beautiful from Toulouse

I'm here again. Beautiful tranquil Toulouse. Although this time it's not quite so tranquil as the students are here. In fact that's an understatement.

The town centre is a madness of bikes and cars and pedestrains encumbered with moving-in stuff and flyers for various clubs and bars. It's very cleary first-days-in-town time for a lot of people here.

Still, all remains charming and agreeable from what I have seen so far.

I am staying with a pair of mighty fine CouchSurfing hosts right in the centre of the city, who've given me a place to stay, loads of advice and help, and also plenty of great nights in. They're all-round wonderful. Slightly heavy on the public displays of affection, but as I'm staying in their appartement which has only one room (see right) I really have no basis for complaint.

It's been wonderful to have a base from which to go to find jobs, arrange meetings with prospective colocateurs (flatmates) and generally soak up some of la vie toulousienne.

He - 25, from Marseilles, plays spanish and french jazz style guitar, trained as a social worker but currently unemployed. She (sitting on the floor on the right on the photo below) - 30, from Brazil, currently working hard for a doctorate in economics.

When I first arrived in Toulouse I met up with a Canadian girl who I'd met in the youth hostel in Montpellier and had gotten along with really well. I spent the night at her new flat and had an evening of vodka with blackcurrant syrup and mushroom crepes. All very wonderful and french, but I woke up in the morning with a nasty stomach ache. I was, apparently, only welcome for one night as she offered to take me down to the youth hostel that afternoon. However, they were full so I fell back on my old favourite, CouchSurfing.com. I was dropped off only about 500m from the flat, but I had all my stuff with me (a backpack, a frontpack, and my favourite 3 quid brown leather effect suitcase from a charity shop in Cambridge) and my state of health was rapidly deteriorating. I had intense pain in my stomach which I attributed to the vodka, aching in all my limbs which I attributed to the bags I was carrying, and was sweating profusely which I attributed to the 34 degree heat.

When I arrived at the 3rd floor flat, hot and sweaty, I thought I needed a shower and a lie down to feel right, but as I was brushing my teeth I vomited profusely into the sink. I then proceeded to spew about 5 more times into the toilet, reaquainting myself with the mushrooms from the night before, seemingly unchanged but coated in a black slime. It soon became clear I was properly ill. I apologised to my new hosts and cleaned out the sink, unblocking the plug with my fingers, and slept for the rest of the day.

Following a day entirely without food I began to feel better and commenced the search for flats and jobs.

My first effort at finding a flat was a little dispiriting. The place was way way out of town in a souless suburb and the three flatmates all worked together at the QuickBurger just across the highway; not exactly my idea of a free-living artisic flatshare. I persisted however, and have an interview tonight with 3 medical students in the centre of town. It sounds absolutely perfect as they speak a little english, but no so much that we'll be conversing in english all the time. My fingers are crosssed.

They're also crossed for a job I just applied for in a darling little place called cafe italiano or something where I just dropped in a CV and got chatting to a couple of the staff. All are super-friendly and were impressed with my level of french. The guy says he'll give me a call.

So: lots to hope for, and some to look forward to, as I may have a few weeks before I can move in to my potential new flat, so maybe a little more travelling? Who knows.

Love to all those thinking of me.

Rob