I walk past this cafe in Toulouse almost every week day on my way to le jardin des plantes, but there’s sommit a bit odd about it. Notice anything?
Having committed the equivalent of blog suicide by shifting continents, cultures and diets I’ve been pondering what to blog from Toulouse. At the food end of things, cafes, kebabs and cassoulet are the prominent contenders. I’ll no doubt blog all three, but I’m thinking of blogging a cafe guide to Toulouse. Why? Well, firstly I don’t have the budget to dine the way I did in Saigon. Secondly, I’m not sure how excited I can get about French food. I mean it’s good, a lot of it’s bloody great, but I doubt I’ll find my inner David Attenborough here in the same way I did in Saigon. Cafes are different. I go to at least one a day. They’re all quite distinctive in France. Some are scabby, others are snazzy. All have their own distinct ambience and serve particular needs. I don’t really go to a cafe for the coffee, beer, pastis or whatever. I go to read the paper, natter with the missus, do some work, twiddle with my phone, have a post shopout beer or just a sit down and a think. Different cafes suit different moods. I’ll try and capture each as best I can.