je crois que je me suis bien adaptée à la culture française.

SPRING! How glorious. This means that every morning I can sit outside with my freshly brewed PG Tips, two slices of brioche and jam, sunglasses on and watch Monsieur DuChamps in his workshop or Jean-Pierre pacing and smoking his cigarettes outside, which has quickly become my favorite part of the day. I can do this, y'know when it's not raining outside. Apparently, for most places in the world, spring means rain... News to me.

(side-note: while those people are real, their names are not... I don't know them, I'm just a creep and watch them and create fictitious lives for them... I swear I'm not a loser)

While Isaias was here visiting this last weekend, I think we did justice to the french lifestyle indeed -- on Friday, we went out with every intention of strolling around the city, but within the first few minutes, we decided to stop at the Carrefour to get some lunch supplies, including a bottle of rosé (that's blush wine for you nerds) and headed back to my balcony to enjoy it on a table we fashioned out of a discarded piece of plywood and a bucket. It pains me how classy we are. After two hours of drinking, eating and chatting, plus a bottle of wine between us, it was time for a siesta. So, we brought the air mattress outside and took a nap for about an hour, basking in the sunshine. OH, how lovely indeed.

 

Monday (lundi de Pâques) was a bank holiday and gorgeous, so we hired bikes for 1€ and took them all around the city, which might have been one of the best things I've done so far in Toulouse. We took them along the canal, all the way around to the north of the city, through the city center, then stopped at a café for something to drink near the Garonne and enjoyed the sunshine. Then we adventured into the city center to see if there were any good films playing. It was glorious, so calm and so nice. Et si je ne me trompe pas, c'était très français.

In fact, this weather is so great, I kinda dread to think what it would be like any hotter... There definitely isn't A/C in the metro nor in my apartment... Woof.

In other news, someone in my apartment building decided to share with world some intimate details using the side of the mailboxes as his (her?) medium of choice. Wonderful how people here choose to invite the world to their lover's quarrels, whether it be through vandalism or the terrifying shouting that takes place through the thin apartment walls. I'll let those of you interested enough to wordreference "niquer." Yikes.

bisous xoxo