My first impression of
Toulon was that it was insanely beautiful. The harbour, the
buildings, the ramshackle French streets.
I got so psyched about
speaking French! It was a Sunday, so the shops open were very
limited. All the same, I did some shopping. I bought a cooked sausage
from a street vendor, speaking only French. I felt very elated at
this.
I also got a text from
someone I really didn't expect. In fact it made my day so completely,
the whole world feels a little bit lighter. I can't go into more
detail than that, but it was the most significant part of this port.
I then walked further
out, and the beautiful port became big concrete tower blocks and lots
of roads. I did however find a few very beautiful bits. I met two
lads busking in the street, who appeared to be completely incapable
of playing at all. They were playing smoke on the water very quietly,
and actually asked me for money. I gave them some, and asked if I
could play their guitar. The lad said 'yes, but be careful. I took
it, and found it was ridiculously out of tune. It was the kind of
cheap Argos guitar that a beginner has. These kids were clearly
seriously broke to be out playing and making next to nothing. They
didn't even have a hat for their money. I tuned it roughly, and
played a little bit. The guitar played badly, but it did sing. I
told them they had a beautiful guitar, and thanked them. They looked
at me like I had some kind of superpower. It was a really nice
meeting, and I got more chance to practice my french.
The further I walked up
the hill, the more grey and concrete it got, although there was one
more treat in store for me. I saw my first ever properly painted
train. It was the same kind they have on the New York overground,
that Fab Five Freddie and all those people would have painted. At
first I thought it was actually pulled into the Garre Du Norde but it
was actually just in a siding. Insane in the membrane, paint the
train, paint the train!
Later that day I was
properly suffering. The storm was ridiculous, and had glasses sliding
off tables and smashing. The piano was rocking so hard I was hitting
bum notes. Everyone felt queezy, including me. Well, just dizzy
really. I had to lie down. It was a crappy time, and I went straight
to bed.
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