The Great Choice that is the French Market

Fruit Stand at Marché Jeanne d'Arc

Spiky Fig at Jeanne d'Arc, called a "Figue de Barbarie".

Butchers at Marché Victor Hugo.

Stingray and other rare sea critters at Marché Victor Hugo.

Give me liberty, give me peace. And then give me the French market.

There is a certain joy that comes with endless abundance and the ability to choose. This is found immediately in the crowded bustle of a French market.

In France there are markets that will make your jaw drop. You have never seen a spiky fig. Yet there it is in front of you. You have seldom seen stingray, yet there they lie staring back at you on ice. The world is your oyster at a French market. And yes, if you like to take things literally, fear not because there will be oysters. You will find wonder and you will find amazement. And you will believe in the good life.

Sunday markets have done this for me. I normally dread Sundays in France. Most stores close and streets are left deserted. For the French Sunday is a day of leisure; they usually head out of town to enjoy the country or gather with friends and family for a meal. But for newcomers who lack a social network, Sunday can be bland and lonely. The Sunday market is a zesty adventure potent enough to zap such thoughts away and get you looking forward to a week full of good eats.

Today I visited two of Toulouse’s regular Sunday markets, the meat, cheese and fish market at Place Victor Hugo and the vegetable market at Jeanne d’Arc. Both take the posh American love-affair with “Whole Food’s” to another level : fresher quality, personal attention, free tasters and lower prices.

For an American, going to the market here is like stepping into another world. There are no plastic wrappings and no pre-packaged products. There are, however, a staggering multitude of choices. The butchers at Victor Hugo illustrate this difference.

Customers are greeted by mountains of ruby-red cuts of meat, long rolls of uncut sausages, piles of salami and an army of hanging dried meats. A team of crispy-clean butchers help sort out these choices, cut meats and give preparation advice. I’m not a red-meat lover, but the meat here is presented so well that I am thinking of giving sausage a second chance.

There is a similar variety at the roughly 50 produce stands at the daily Jeanne d’Arc market. Here you get to explore free of charge. Want a taste? A vendor will hand you an entire fruit to bite into. Want a whole bagful? The prices are surprisingly low. I ventured forth and tried a spiky looking fruit that turned out to be a fig. I added this to my more common selection of fruit and vegetables and ended up with an entire basketful of goodies that cost under 12 euro. This price bought me a cornucopia of fresh produce: bananas, apples, plums, nectarines, figs, a melon, onions, lettuce, cucumbers and potatoes. And of course, a few hours worth of gastronomic adventures. Now that is something to look forward to!

Going to the Doctor in France.

After a recent visit to “le médecin” in France I left wishing the US could take a hint from the French. The biggest difference is the informality in French medicine. As a result, doctor appointments are almost enjoyable.

The first striking difference in France is the medical facilities. They are comfortable, clean and tend to resemble classy living rooms when compared with the sterile, efficient US facilities. Doctors here often have small private offices that are shared with just one or two other doctors. You won’t necessarily find spotless ammonia scented hallways, overly lit waiting rooms and large-scale facilities in France. If you're used to expecting such conditions don't be put off by the French style.

In my case, the exterior of the doctor's office wasn't comforting; a dark, crumbling stairway welcomed me to my appointment. This ominous entryway immediately triggered warning signals in my American-trained brain, was this some kind of back-alley doctor I was subjecting myself to?

In contrast, the doctor’s office itself was so pleasant I almost forgot I had come to see a doctor. The room had wooden floors, high ceilings, crown molding and lots of natural light. It was both office and check-up room. Art books sat on a marble fireplace and a pink glass chandelier tinkled overhead. The only signs that this was indeed a medical building were a doctor’s table and a sink tucked behind a Japanese screen at the back of the room.

The second major difference in French medicine is the informal manner of the doctors. In France, the distinction between patient and doctor is less defined; they are not far away in a hospital but in the apartment next door and they seem to take interest in your life. French doctors laugh, joke, and ask you about your vacation. In contrast, American doctors are robotic and disinterested.

My new doctor answered phone calls and chatted away with me during my visit. She was thrilled to learn I am an English teacher. In fact, she was looking for someone to help her prepare for her upcoming trip to Australia. Could I meet with her for private lessons? I was shocked by the invitation to break the patient / doctor boundary, but agreed to call her later.

The check-up itself was similar to those in the US, but the payment and paperwork were much simpler. The French health insurance system, called “la Sécurité sociale,” reimburses most medical needs. Even I will benefit from this system and be mostly reimbursed. In order to do so I will simply take the form my doctor gave me and send it into “la Sécurité sociale.” There was no need for a piece of identity and no questions about insurance. This was too easy!

My visit cost me 40€ though similar check-ups usually cost only 28€. As I wrote a check directly to the doctor she conceded that she was expensive. Most doctors’ fees in France are controlled by the state, but some can obtain special licenses to work outside of these regulations. She cut 5€ off my bill and threw in a free medical prescription perhaps taking pity on the fact that I was unfamiliar with the French system.

Going to the doctor in France is cheap and easy, you get quality-care and the doctors are surprisingly friendly. For major medical emergencies and complicated procedures I might feel more secure in the austere American medical environment. The French experience leaves you with an appetite for less medical paperwork, lower fees and a doctor that takes a personal interest in patients. Going to the doctor becomes much less painful this way.

Blood and Beauty. Saint Sernin Basilica

Rue du Taur

In 250 AD Biship Saturnin of Toulouse disobeyed the Roman emperor by refusing to make sacrifices to pagan gods. As punishment, the Bishop was tied to a bull and dragged through the streets of Toulouse. His end was a bloody one, but you wouldn't know that from the serene beauty of the basilica erected in the 9th century to host his remains.

Three major landmarks in Toulouse commemorate the final journey of Saturnin, who later became known as Saint-Sernin. Legend has it that Saint-Sernin's body was dragged along the now popular street "Rue du Taur" or "Street of the Bull." Today Rue du Taur boasts many crêpe and kebab restaurants popular among the younger crowd. Saint Sernin supposedly met his fate along this street and was originally buried where the dark and unimpressive "Eglise du Taur" now stands. Later, however, he was moved to the Saint-Sernin Basilica at the end of Rue du Taur.

The impressive Saint-Sernin Basilica was begun in 1080 and finished a mere 400 years later. It became a stop along the pilgrim route to Santiago de Compostela in the middle ages and many pilgrims still visit the 128 saintly remains that are housed here.

Saint-Sernin Basilica took 400 years for good reason. The building is beautiful. Its simple brick and stonework create a light and airy atmosphere inspiring peaceful reflection. This is a welcome change after the complex and sinister Gothic style church. It is also impressive in size and is the largest Romanesque church still standing in western Europe. If you're visiting Toulouse take a stroll down Rue du Taur after vising the basilica and enjoy the fact that the only red you are seeing is brick, and has very little to do with bulls or blood.

Lunching in France. It’s Not Really About Food.

In France, eating is a sacred activity that is never muddled with other endeavors such as walking, working or checking the Internet. In France, you sit down with other people to eat. And once seated you talk. And you talk. And you talk. In fact, conversation and not food might be the real love affair of the French.

Eating lunch can get in the way of work in the States. Americans grab a sandwich to eat alone, or chow down at their desks in order to economize on time. In the US, if you take a full hour to eat every day, you are seen as either very lucky or very lazy. In France, however, the social lunch trumps work most days.

The French generally eat somewhere between 12 and 2 p.m. Linking a major part of these lunch hours is the almighty French conversation. This is a different beast than its American counterpart and it behooves the unwary traveler to study it before launching in.

The worst thing you could do as a work traveler is to venture forth to eat alone. In France, the very point of eating is to socialize. The French are not discriminatory about whom they eat with and value participation in this social event.

Once seated with French colleagues, avoid all personal topics of conversation. The French generally don’t want to hear about your personal life, and will tell you very little about their own. Conversation rarely turns to private family matters, political affiliations or weekend activities. Instead, the French choose general topics. A French lunch conversation might analyze the fabrication of olive oil, the lack of gun control in the US or the best restaurants in town.

The next difference is that the French conversation topic has a tendency to stick around while getting intellectual. In the US, conversation topics change like the direction of a bouncy ball. One topic leads to the next, and by the end of a thirty-minute lunch break we’ve bounced through 10 different topics. In France, you tease a topic apart with a fine-tooth comb, slowly pulling out and examining certain threads. This can seem overly controlled to the American taste. However, the French can make interesting conversation out of topics many Americans would consider banal and pass right over. Topics should be chosen with great consideration. Do you really want to be talking about a subject you just mentioned 30 minutes from now?

The ingredients to the French conversation? Time, a wide knowledge base and determination to keep discussion going. The results of this combination are plentiful.

Bordeaux Pics

Misty Bordeaux

This isn't smoke! It's the waterpark below in action.

Bordeaux Water Park

This is a beautiful water park in front of the Place de la Bourse. Water sprays up in a light mist from the ground periodically and provides children hours of enjoyment.

McDonald's

McDonald's macchiato and brioche in Bordeaux.

McDonald's à la française

When in France, you eat as the French do whether you want to or not. Once while in Paris with my family, a waiter vehemently refused to bring a well-done steak to our table. Our choice was bloody like the French like their steak, or not at all. We decided to opt for the salad.

Sometimes this stubbornness over cuisine quality is a welcomed surprise. While traveling recently in the South of France a friend suggested the McDonald’s breakfast. I’ve managed to avoid McDonald’s for the last several years but I reluctantly consented. It was Sunday and there weren’t many cafés open.

I was surprised to find the McDonald’s restaurant bright and cheery. Even more shocking to me was the stand-alone coffee bar equipped with a barista and a shiny espresso machine. My amazement soared when my macchiato arrived clinking in front of my in a white ceramic cup. It hit the roof when I saw my McDonald’s coffee decorated with an elaborate chocolate-syrup design. Quelle classe!

The French love to hate American fast-food, but for all that noise McDonald's is a huge hit in the country of haut-cuisine. That might be because the French have taken McDonald’s and adapted it to French taste. In France, McDonald's becomes "McDo": a more hip and tasty version of the American standard.

Some changes to the American menu include beer and the Croque McDo, a hot-ham-and-cheese sandwich popular in France.


The restaurant atmosphere is different too. In Paris' classy Champs-Élysées McDo, you can plug into the restaurant's music-listening stations and take your pick between new releases as you chow-down on “le Big Mac.” In Toulouse, customers sit on trendy barstools made of bicycle seats (you might have to search around for this particular McDo as not every restaurant owner boasts such a cycling affinity).


The downsides of the McDo experience in France? It’s more expensive and takes longer than in the States. I waited 5-minutes for my macchiato to be prepared and paid 2€60 for my drink and a slice of brioche. This is a bit cheaper than the normal 3€ for a macchiato in a local café, but not amazingly so.


If you’re ever in a pinch for time in France or trying to save your pennies on that frightening euro / dollar conversion rate, you might want to give McDo à la française a try. You won’t get the same 'ol Golden Arches you’re used to! On the other hand, it is a shame to waste your French eating experience on something that is still, in the end, McDonald’s.

Why Visit France Oustide of Paris?

Why skip Paris for small town France? I’m the first to recommend Paris full heartedly. It is a wonder trove made up of complex layers of history, architecture and people. Many French, however, cringe at the thought of spending time in the City of Lights. It’s dirty, crowded and moves at a hyper-active pace compared to the rest of France. Where does this opinion come from?

Well, it might be coming from people living in the south-western city of Toulouse. Compared with Paris life here is much less of a hassle. It’s cleaner, easier to get from place to place and the people are friendly from the first Bonjour!

All that is needed to understand the appeal of small-town France is a comparison of the Paris metro with Toulouse’s transportation system. The underground stations in Paris require passengers to march up, down, over and through all varieties of underground stairways, tunnels and escalators. Commuting in Paris means metro cars packed to the brim with rush-hour madness and the smell of urine lingering in dank passageways. Times this by two or three for the necessary transfers and you have a public transportation nightmare in the making.

Toulouse, by contrast, has two metro lines. Tiny bright yellow cars arrive every four minutes to shuffle Toulousians throughout the city in under 20 minutes. By the time you enter the station voilà! the trip seems already over.

Another benefit of Toulouse is that it’s quaint and calm. The streets are charming and welcoming. Most are so small and winding that they barely accommodate one-way traffic. Once you leave the busy shopping area you often find yourself alone to contemplate the cats lingering on cobblestone streets. This atmosphere becomes even more relaxed on Sundays, the day of pause. The city slows to a complete halt as families head to the park or out of town leaving streets empty and shops closed.

Most importantly, people in Toulouse are helpful and welcoming. When you’re spotted fumbling with a map, strangers offer to walk you to your destination and hand out their phone number in case you have more questions. I had one stranger give me her ATM card to help me start my cell phone plan! This might be slightly out of the norm even for Toulouse, but it is indicative of how helpful and friendly people are here.

To sum it up, Toulouse is a wonderful town to live in.Visiting smaller French towns like Toulouse allows you to vacation more like the French live, slowly with time to take in the beauty surrounding you. It’s a nice compliment to the more complex Parisian experience.

Welcome.

I am going on seven weeks in Toulouse, France and it has been a wild ride thus far. Starting a new job, trying to make my way through French culture and finding an apartment has provided me with many opportunities to practice saying "merde!!" But on the other hand, the phrase I've used the most is mais comme c'est beau! or, roughly translated, how amazingly beautiful, picturesque, charming and wonderful!

You can see how complex life here is. OK, this is France so let me use a wine metaphor. Living here is like a really good red wine: enjoyable, full of flavor, good for the heart, and at times little bit tart. I'm loving it. Most of the time.

This blog is for friends, family and anyone interesting in what it's like to be an American in France. I would love feedback, comments and hellos from afar.