Last night I enjoyed a tapas meal with two other assistants. The restaurant was small, but the tapas was yummy and there was a two-man group playing what they called "rock n roll." I'm pretty sure anyone from the U.S. would describe it as jazz. There was one chef in this place, and he gave us some lagniappe in the form of a creme catalane for dessert. Creme catalane is like a creamy creme brulee from the Catalan region of Spain.
My parents and I enjoyed a kir while people watching in Toulouse's main square, La Capitole, and M. Sebastian of Florida restaurant dropped off some munchies. Lagniappe. My mom made sure he learned the word. I taught the assistants this little word's meaning as well. Who knows, it may just become a part of Toulousain speak soon.
Those were my first lagniappes as far as food goes, which is usually when we use the word, but Toulousains are full of a little something extra. They are warm and engaging, and they all do their best to convince me to stay in France. If there's still a stereotype that Frenchies are cold, it's not true of the people I've connected with in Toulouse.
La Fiancee's baristas, the owner of a prominent restaurant in La Capitole square, the sales lady at the boutique, the kebap man who's restaurant is basically in the hallway leading to my apartment, and the bus driver all know my name and story. I may be tangled up in an administrative web, but I've also started to spin a web of my own with personal connections at its heart.
This post is meant to contrast with the previous one. A bientot!
La Capitole
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