WORDS OF A WORLD WANDERER

I think one is supposed to start near Beverwijk railway station. That's where the original map used to be anyway. Not sure if it has survived the wave of renovation and reconstruction in the station area, but luckily I had eternalised the map in this shot:

The IJmondroute is indicated by hexagonal signs, usually attached to lamp posts. I guess the trail is pretty old, since some signs have turned from white and green into pale yellow and blue. Follow these and you should be able to complete the 50-ish km "fietsroute", at least if it is done counter-clockwise.

I decided to choose a combination of old urbanism and alpinism, which resulted in a rail trip to the town of Foix. This either tiny city or big town guards the passageway between France, Spain and Andorra. This part of Ariège river valley is surrounded by steep hills and the outer mountains of the Pyrenees, an awesome sight to behold for someone from the pancake flatlands.

Foix was founded at the confluence of the Ariège and Arget rivers, a fork of rivers if you will. Foix actually means fork in old Occitan. Like a cherry on a pie, a castle tops a rocky outcrop overlooking the old town.

My mother would have died if she had to visit the château. For one, it’s part museum - which she doesn’t like. Two: there is only one bathroom and you’ll have to exit the castle grounds for it - which she would probably hate. And three, most importantly: there’s hundreds of meters of cobblestone paths and stairs, winding around the steep rock before one reaches the top - good exercise, but she hates that definitely. Such a pitty, because the view is magnificent .

Unlike Carcassonne, Foix is actually inhabited by real citizens rather than hordes of tourists. You’ll see the local Occitans shopping for ordinary clothes or groceries, mingling in with the much smaller tourist population. This saturday added a dash of celebration with a wedding at the local abbey church. The guests entered town in a parade of honking cars, each marked with a pink ribbon.

On my way to the city centre I came across an interesting building. At first I thought it was some leftover tower of the long-gone city wall. When I came closer, it did not look that old to me. The masonry was too refined for that. The building had a peculiar attractiveness to it however, so I took a picture anyway.

Despite being in the fourth largest city, the Toulousaine metro network is actually very small: a red line A and a yellow line B, sometimes above-ground, and crossing each other at Jean Jaurès station. That is about it... Okay, one might argue that the network also includes a suburban train and two tramway lines, with the latest tram heading straight to the airport. All in all it is still quite petite, compared to its Parisian big brother. Heck, even Amsterdam has more lines, the tram network especially.

Not only the network is small, the carriages are tiny as well. Whereas the Amsterdam metro is usually (*cough* line 51 *cough*) composed of 2 to 3 carriages per train, you won’t find more than single carriages throughout the day here. I’d say that they’re almost the size of Amsterdam’s tram-metro hybdrid on line 51.

“How on earth does the system cope with all the commuters then?” Many a student at VU university will have experienced that awkward moment during rush hour while waiting on the “sneltram“. White lights in the distance anounce its arrival, and the commuting students stretch their necks to see if they are about to be packed like sardines in the dreadful 1-carriage situation. Not in Toulouse though: Tisseo (the transport company) uses driverless trains, and most importantly a high frequency. I was amazed that five minutes is the longest one will ever have to wait, with every 2 minutes being the most common frequency. Additionally, the most basic paper ticket provides access to the entire network of busses, trams and metros for €1,60 (3,10 two-way) within a certain amount of transfers and time. And then there are multi-pass tickets, which apparently work just like the Dutch OV-chipcard, just without the hassle of remembering to check out.

The Toulouse metro has its ups and downs (pun intended), but despite its size, it is a pretty efficient system.

My latest trip with the metro led me from my homebase Faculté de Pharmacie to Balma-Gramont, the northeastern terminus of line A and gateway to one of Toulouse’s largest shopping centres (centres commerciaux). Next to an Auchan hypermarket, Espace Gramont hosts about a hundred shops. Now, I have not turned in to a shopaholic, but I desperately needed shoes for the summer. I’m happy to tell that I have found a nicely looking and fitting pair of shoes.

The Canal du Midi is a canal (no sh*t) that connects the Atlantic to the Mediterranean via the Garonne river and goes right across the southwest of France. It is actually quite old, dating all the way back to the 17th century. The canal is nonetheless still used by small boats and barges. The tall trees that line the canal's banks provide ample shade and a picturesquely green vibe. Lots of joggers and cyclists will probably agree.

This part of the Canal is supposed to be one of the many Chemins de Saint-Jacques, and so there should be some scallop markings along the route. Believe me, they are incredibly difficult to find until you get to the heart of Toulouse. I was lucky to have streetviewed the roads in advance. The Chemin would take one from the Canal, via Boulingrin, l'Esplanade du 19 Août 1944 and Place Saint-Jacques, right to the city centre. Next to Place Saint-Jacques is a beautiful stately building. At first I thought it was some kind of former château or consulate, but it appears to be a military headquarters. Very luxurious for that matter.

The historical heart of Toulouse is introduced by a stop at the Cathédrale Saint-Étienne de Toulouse. A bit shabby looking with its random mixture of gothic church parts, but still awesome for someone who has seen nothing but iconoclasted churches in the Netherlands. Everything felt so medieval and original.

From the cathedral, the Chemin leads right across downtown to the Garonne and from there onwards to Santiago de Compostella. My walk however, ended there at the east bank in Port de la Daurade. While most of the city is elevated above the river, this little green square is at river level. It used to be a small port, but now it is an equally small park with a nice view across the river to the Pont Neuf and Saint-Cyprien.

I had planned the road back home via Toulouse's main shopping street (Rue Saint-Rome, des Changes, des Filatiers). As expected, only a few shops were open today. Among them was a HEMA! Here in the middle of Toulouse was an 'oerhollandse' shop! Apparently they opened only two weeks ago, but there were so many shoppers, that I had really liked some airco. Got myself some stroopwafels (or gaufres au sirop) to replace the almost finished bag of madeleines :D

The last bit of the road I gave up, so I just took the metro. But not before suddenly realising the city of Toulouse, la ville rose, is actually an architectural tricolor. Its houses were usually coloured pastel blue, beige and brick red. Reminds me of the Bleu-Blanc-Rouge. Maybe intentional?

Of course an Eiffel tower is not easily found in Toulouse and barets are something from the past. But the baguette lingers on. When I do my groceries here in the evening, I always notice the elongated breads, tucked away under and arm or just plainly in a hand on the way home.

And it’s not just the French Frenchmen. People from everywhere seem to pick up a baguette for dinner. It was an awkwardly amusing sight to see an African woman in full black jelaba mode with a bunch of baguettes in her arms.

On a side note, I have just realised what the staple carb is in the French diet. While the Dutch chose the potato, the Italians went for pasta and Asian cuisine is flooded with rice, here in France it is often the baguette. Besides being a tummy-filling food, some people here like to use bread as a plate cleaner. It is actually a delicious habit, since most of your meal’s flavour is inside the gravies and sauces which are left behind on your plate. So what you do is: rip off a piece of bread, wipe your plate with it and bon appétit!

Then there is that other part of the French stereotype: the lady. Or rather l’amour entre les deux. One might think that the Dutch are so open, almost exhibitionistic with the infamous Wallen. But have you ever seen a couple getting all over eachother in the middle of the street? We’re actually quite prudish on that matter: hand in hand, cuddling, sometimes a quick kiss if called for, but that is about it in public spaces. Okay, maybe in the cinemas, but then it is dark and one is usually seated somewhere in the back.