Pandemic Diaries - Mediterranean Cruise - Toulon, France

1 November 2022 – Toulon, France

 

I had no idea what to expect to find in Toulon, France.  All I knew was that it was on the southern coast.  It turns out that Toulon is a really lovely city, at least the portion I visited it!

 

Toulon bills itself as being on the Côte d’Azur – the Azure Blue Coast.  I’m guessing that means turquoise blue seas and blue skies.  Our day started quite rainy, complete with thunder and lightning, but by the time I left the ship mid-morning, the sun had come out and the sky was mostly clear.  It was still wet on the ground, and the air was chilly, but it wasn’t bad for 1 November.  In fact, I wore my usual slacks, short-sleeved shirt, sandals, and added my new rain jacket from Venice.  I was feeling quite fashionable in this Venetian lagoon blue-green jacket!

Anyway, I picked up a map at the cruise terminal and looked at my options.  I thought maybe I’d walk to the art museum, though I wasn’t thrilled with that, not knowing what I’d find there.  I walked along the waterfront a block or two, but realized from the map that I really needed to go inland one block to get the major street I needed. 

 

Once I found the right street, I saw that there was a pedestrian street full of stands of, well, who knows.  I wandered on up, and found a colorful farmers market, with piles and piles of fresh fruits and vegs, full of friendly vendors, some of whom insisted on being photographed.  I like stands such as these, they always look like gorgeous mosaics with all the bright colors of produce.

 

So I walked up and down, taking photos and saying “bonjour.”  I saw a variety of shops and eating spots along the street, and many of them had names like “Medina,” “Casbah,” “Istanbul.”  Hmmm, interesting.  I started looking at the various people on the streets, some tourists like me but others with shopping carts or sacks of groceries.  This neighborhood seemed to be half French people and half immigrants from places that once were French colonies, or perhaps nations somewhere across the Mediterranean.  There were men and women in clearly Muslim dress, heads covered, long robes for the women.  Other people had the café au lait skin of north Africans.  It was an interesting mix of people.

 

It seemed appropriate to slip into a little coffee shop – this is France, home of the croissant and all kinds of pastries.  I found a place that billed itself as “un patisserie artisanale” – sounded good to me.  It was gorgeous!  The baked goods scented the air, the fruit tarts glimmered like jewels, the chocolate items tried to seduce me with their deep dark mysterious depths, and oh, was it hard to decide!  But it was still morning, so a café au lait and a pain au chocolat, sometimes called a chocolate croissant.  I ordered in French, the young man behind the counter put together my order, and it was all of three Euros.  Even served on an embossed metal plate!  Lovely!

 

I sat down, and two women from my cruise ship came in.  They had questions about some of the pastries, and the young clerk had really minimal English.  He turned to me in desperation with a quiet “Madame?”  But his eyes were panicky, and it was a bit comical.  The women had asked what was in a certain cake, and he replied “fruites.”  In French, that sounds like “fweet.”  So I told the women that it was fruit.  They asked what kind of fruit, so I asked him that – he replied with the French words for pineapple, apricot, cherries.  I again translated.  One woman said she really was trying to find out what kind of cream was in the cake, so I again asked in my not-great French.  He said it was crème de patisserie, pastry cream.  Easy.  The women placed their order, and one  asked for a bottle of water – again, he needed me to translate.  He put together their order, they paid and sat down at the table next to me.  My new friend leaned over the counter and gave me a very heartfelt “merci beaucoup, Madame!”

 

The women and I chatted a bit, and I said I thought perhaps this young man was Moroccan – he had the huge dark soulful eyes of a young Rudolph Valentino.  I finished my morning snack, and got up to leave.  The young man came over and told me he had heard what I said in English, and in French said that he was from Tunisia.  Ah!  I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from Tunisia!  He asked where I was from, an easy Étas Unis.  Where in the US is a more difficult question to answer, but we managed.  He asked if I was from a boat – there’s probably a French word for cruise ship, but I think he was being kind and using easier words for me.  Oui, oui, dans un bateau!  He wished me a good voyage.  And I wandered on.

 

The produce market stands continued as I walked up the street, though eventually there were fewer and fewer of them.  But the car-free road continued, and branched off in a few directions.  I kept walking, slightly uphill, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air and just being outside in a lovely town in France!

 

There were shops selling goods from Provence – I’m not sure if Toulon is on the outer edge of the Provence region, or not.  The buildings definitely looked like what I’d expect in Provence, pale pastel colors with contrasting shutters, and wrought iron balconies on nearly every window.  The buildings here were in brighter colors than the pastels of Villefranche; here, there were ochres and deeper peach colors, with green to aqua to blue doors and shutters.  I loved the butter yellow with medium aqua shutters and doors.  Or the terra cotta with blue accents.  Cheerful and colorful, unexpected color combinations.  Pale peach paired with a dusty sage green.  Just happy looking buildings.

 

There were the usual fountains and water spouts one finds in parts of Europe, though signs said that this water was not potable.  One fountain even had a sign that I think said the water was turned off until it could be cleaned, if my translation was close to correct.  And one very old fountain, perhaps Medieval, had a long trough behind it, full of water, perhaps a place where knights could bring their noble steeds for a drink.

 

I browsed in a few shops, but mostly walked and took photos of architectural elements and details.  Doors, lots and lots of interesting doors and decorative doorway framing.  There were a few brass medallions in the street, one being the city’s emblem of a shield and cross, the other showing a rope and anchor, alluding to this being a sea port.

 

Eventually, I was ready for lunch.  I found a lovely sidewalk café named Le Petit Prince de Toulon – The Little Prince of Toulon.  (It makes me wonder of de Saint-Exupery was from Toulon.)  They had a chalkboard menu featuring North African dishes like couscous and tagine.  I chose a corner table, and had a seat.

 

A friendly woman came out to ask if I was there to eat.  Yes, I am.  I asked if I could have couscous with chicken (since the menu listed lamb).  She said of course.  It took a while, but eventually I was served a huge bowl of couscous covered in stewed vegetables and two big pieces of chicken, along with a gravy boat of the stewing liquid.  It was delicious, full of herbs and spices with just a hint of cinnamon and cardamom.  Mmmmm, so good! 

 

I could only eat about half of it, however.  Really, this was a portion for two people in my opinion.  I apologized to the waiter, telling him it was delicious but too big for me.  The woman came over and asked if I wanted to take the leftovers with me, but I explained I was on a boat.  Ah, she understood. 

 

Yay for remembering enough high school French to comprehend all of this!  Fortunately for me, everything was present tense – I remember only one way to say something in the past tense, and absolutely no clue how to make anything future!

 

I thought it was about 2 PM by then, so it probably was time to head back to the ship.  I retraced my steps, the easiest way to not get hopelessly lost.  The fruit and veg stands were closing down, and many stores and smaller shops were closed, since this was the lunch break.  (Often a two or three hour break.)

 

As I came to my friendly patisserie, I thought I should pick up something for Richard.  The place was empty, but my Tunisian friend came out of the back and gave me a big smile, recognizing me.  I told him I returned to buy something for my husband, something the most chocolate (“le plus chocolat”).  He went through a few things, but pointed at one and said it was the most chocolate, all chocolate with a “croquante,” which I think meant a crunchy sort of base.  It looked good, so sure, one of those.  Plus an apple tart for me.

 

We wished each other a good day, and I headed onward, carrying what obviously was a small box of pastry.  I managed to find my way to the cruise port, and went through the security building.  The man at the entrance said “Ah, por moi?  Merci,” as he reached for the box.  I laughed, gave him a “je suis désolée,” (I’m so sorry!), and walked on through.

 

I had the same thing getting on the cruise ship, the staff asked if I brought them pastry.  I’m glad everyone was so jovial about it all – I even told one of the people who has been quite friendly that I had to bring back pastry because they just don’t feed us enough!  (Anyone on a cruise ship knows there is an overwhelming abundance of food!)

 

Richard really enjoyed his chocolate item – it was a crunchy crust, a layer of chocolate cake, then some chocolate cream or mousse, all covered in a milk chocolate couverture.  My apple tart was delicious.

 

And that was pretty much my day in Toulon.  Gorgeous architecture, a new friend, and wonderful food.  Plus bright sunshine and lots of walking.

 

Much better than spending a day in an art museum!