Mondays

I was going to write a post about "An Ordinary Day in Toulouse" or "A Day in the Life," but my weekly schedule is too varied to make it fit!  So instead, I'll go day-by-day, using last Monday as an example of an ordinary Monday in Toulouse.

It's my day off!  Gotta love three-day weekends.  It means I can spend Sunday at church, leisurely eating lunch at the pastor's house, drinking tea until early evening, not worrying about work the next morning.  That being said, Monday is my preparation day.  I do most/all of my lesson planning, which is admittedly minimal.  It usually consists of going to a handy website with a list of lessons assistants have used in the past and then tailoring them to fit my unruly classes versus my docile ones.

Last Monday, I ran errands. Not having eaten breakfast, I slipped into a boulangerie and glanced at the pastries behind the glass, looking for something I hadn't tried, and quickly chose un croissant aux amandes, a croissant with almonds.

Walking down the street with my treat, I wasn't prepared for my first bite-- !! it had no right calling itself a croissant.  This was a donut, a dessert, an inexplicable harmony of flakiness, sugar, cream, and I don't know what else.  I stopped in my tracks and resisted the urge to turn right around, go back, and buy three more for later.  I made a mental note of the bakery (although I've since discovered that this tongue-tantalizer is found in most patisseries).

I enjoyed the French architecture as I went about my business downtown:

 

On Mondays, I dine with Francoise and Lucien, my good friends and the most French people I know.  I can't help but notice the change since October-- I used to have to pay close attention to get the gist of the dinner conversation, whereas now I understand 98% of what they say without straining.  I usually come away with my language slightly refined or a few new phrases in my arsenal.  This week Francoise taught me the French equivalent of "the straw that broke the camel's back;" "la goutte d'eau qui fait deborder le vase," literally: the drop of water that broke the vase.

We start with tea, then the meal gets underway around 7:30.  It's strictly healthy, very simple, and plentiful.  Endive salad, vegetable soups, Parisian omelets, pot roast, duck or curried chicken, countryside specialties, occasionally.  It's here that I've been introduced to the most uniquely French foods and habits.  There's barely room in our bellies for our "infusions" afterward, the herbal tea that wraps up the night.  The combination of food, wine, warm drinks, and the ever-present humor leaves me with a happy heart every time.

Morning at Francoise and Lucien's house, from my first week in France.