A rainy Sundie in this little French town almost at the border with Spain is not the same as a rainy Sunday anywhere else in the world. Here everything just seems more deserted, yet more enticing.
Just imagine waking up to the ticking of raindrops on the red bricks of our hotel room. Then, jogging around narrow streets and Medieval churches while getting lost in the weekend Flea Market where fresh croissants and smoking hot paella smells accompanied the run back home just to give you time to shower and be out there again to taste the flavors.
Despite the rain, the father still goes to the market, holding his kid and dog on one arm and the bundle of chards in the other.
The coffee brews as usual in the cafe` stand, the smelly fromage are sold by the kilos and the flute by the bunch no matter what.
Colorful umbrellas cover the Place St. Aubin while we get shielded inside le prestigious Saint Sernin church, a Medieval Abbey with glass painted by Jewish artist Marc Chagall and numerous cripts dedicated to French saints of all shape and size.
Rain keeps coming down hard and the fun is to wait under arc ways hidden in the narrow roads all over the town.
Lunch is in the Arabs neighborhood along le fleuve La Garonne and après coffee avec crème freche dans un café` en place de Capitol with entertainment and music provided by the professional clowns of Toulouse.
L’Après Midi continue` avec un visit a la université de medicine e après un aperitif in a very French bistro where we challenge our gluttony with ordering a plate of fromage and a nice bottle of red wine.
Mon Die, l`addicion was beacoup cher!
A deman, hoping for a little sun, but not complaining for the blissfull rain.