I woke up on the Sunday and Adrian was going to do crêpes tonight, I planned on writing a blog in the local bar Champillon in the towns square. Good internet, smiling people, reasonable prices. Some rugby players came in and made the place a little more chaotic, but still, it was all good natured. Returned home after writing a little bit and watching a few Youtube videos and yea, this place is not all that bad.
The crêpes were fucking beautiful. Adrian, next to being a musician is also an artist in the kitchen. The crêpes, if you folded them, become gallets. Pancakes, but the Dragon kind. Mushrooms, creme fraîche, an egg in the middle, some cheese – all bundled and folded into a square pancake of sheer happiness. I absorbed the food in my stomach and the recipe into my head. Easy to make but so fucking good, holy shit. This dish made me realize Ive been doing pancakes wrong all my life..
Ate some the next day as well, folded it like a burrito with my peasant ass but its whatever. Still tasted great. I went to do some writing and I picked up Petra on my way to town, gave her my laptop so she could do some work (you see, her phone had been KIA a couple of weeks earlier and she was too Swiss to replace it). She was planning on doing something but not quite sure yet. When Im talking about being stuck in Figeac, she’s the epitome of that. Coming here in November, quitting her job before that, getting to know the locals and boy, was she Stuck (capitol S). Not really though, just living life and enjoying the city, its just that much of a good city. Small enough to a point where everyone knows one another, runs into each other. Big enough to have a stable, local economy and little hidden gems to find. Own mannerisms and musicians that came to chill and just never left just because of the cool atmosphere, a vibrant pearl in a country of oysters.. A thought popped into my head that Alchemist Roland told me earlier in my travels, every place has its own atmosphere or energy if you will and things to take away from it. I, like so many people who never left before me, was determined to take a nice swig from this beautiful place and then some.
It was Marie her birthday and I gave her some sunflower and tobacco seeds, I offered to make Mexican food and this was no problem, in fact it was applauded. I made it just spicy enough to ruin Marie her day, she was accepting it though and plowed through it like a champ. Her boyfriend Adrian (maybe because of his Spanish roots) had absolutely no problem with it, and Petra (I believe shes from Liechtenstein) also doubled up..Yea not German at all..
For the next couple of days I made sure I ate at every kebab place in the town and this became sort of a running joke, where people would offer to take me to the kebab OR look straight through my excuses to go into town and assume I was just going to eat a kebab there. They were not wrong.. In France they call a kebab wrap a taco (WHICH MAKES NO SENSE) and they fill it up with local cheeses. Youre basically eating a unique one every time and to my standards its more of a cheese wrap than a kebab..
My package had the wrong address listed on the track and trace and when I found out I called them immediately. They told me its very well possible the computer just registered it wrong which kind of calmed my nerves.
During the following week, I chilled, wrote my ass off, ate all the kebabs I could get my grubby hands on and enjoyed some excellent company. All of Marie and Adrian’s friends were just popping in and out of the house whenever and it always made up for interesting conversations and experiences. A special mention to the gorgeous Perrine and the beautiful Apauline, who were (as far as I can judge) her best friends. Awesomely kind souls with a good sense of humor and their English was just as cute as my French.
I met Adrian’s band member one morning as they were playing their tunes in the room next to mine. Marie made a tartiflet (not how you write it probably), a cheese filled oven dish with cheese on top and she changed the pork in mine for duck and hamdullah, do I love me some ‘canard’. We went to a performance of Adrian in a casino that was run by the biggest fucktards Ive ever come across.
There was a house warming on Saturday the week after, Petra was leaving/not leaving/leaving/ not leaving and I looked for Blablacars to take me back from a bigger city Cahors, I would be able to hit in a couple of days so I was planning to leave Figeac, walk towards Cahors, take a Blablacar back to Figeac for the party and another one back to Cahors the next day. The weather was stunningly warm while I heard that storms were bashing the Netherlands. In the South of France, things were peaceful and if there was fog, it would burn off during midday and fondue the whole city in gold.
Then..Finally(!) My package arrived.. on a Friday. Almost missed it as well but no, this time it was meant to be. Finally got the goodies my family wanted me to have. Special mention to a small music box, that played “wonderful world” by Armstrong, putting a sparkle in my eyes and I could just see my sorry ass sitting on a mountain somewhere, freezing to death, pulling out the music box and crying myself quietly into the long night lol.
Petra and me went to Rampeart to listen to some nice music on Friday and it was cool. We talked about the differences in countries for these kind of places. In Germany this sort of thing is heavily infused with Punk culture and somewhat illegal. In France its mostly a sort of hippie culture thing and in the Netherlands it would just be normally regulated with bouncers and a license to pour liquor. Im not sure which formula is best but in the Netherlands, the bouncers would have definitely removed some of these drunk Frenchies almost face planting into the drum set.
We had several movie nights, some more great meals.. Drank some great wine..
The toilet bag arrived on Saturday and that about taco’s it all up (ITS CALLED A WRAP FRENCHY).
If Im in love with this country, Figeac is definitely one of the butterflies in my stomach. I want to thank Marie, Adrian & Petra for hosting me and being so extremely kind and giving me a home away from home. I hope that one day I will be able to return the favor although I doubt I can play par..
Looking forward to walking again, I left on a Tuesday after having a very lengthy and nice conversation with Petra the Austrian. I found my way easy enough and Lucy looked even more happy than I am. Some spectacular sights/towns/people awaited and Cahors was only 75km away, should be able to get there easily by next Saturday..