Toulouse

Today I have a story that ends with me running barefoot through the empty streets of Toulouse at 5:15 AM, wearing a borrowed skirt, looking for the métro station. Alone. Completely sober. It's exciting enough that I'm telling it now, when I still have a day before I return to Toulon.

My CouchSurfing host Aurore is 19 years old, and really nice in a lot of ways. She fed me lunch, gave me her bed, set me up with towels, and of course took me all around the sights of Toulouse Friday afternoon. But it quickly became clear that her guests are supposed to keep her entertained on the weekends. She took me walking arm in arm like we were best friends. For going out, she asked her mother for money. "I only got 30 euro from her so we'll have to get boys to buy us drinks tonight."

But first, I had to be made over. Do I travel with make-up and jewelery and cute clothes for going out? Heck no. But she was not pleased, "You didn't pack any shoes less ugly than that? I told you we were going to go out! You were going to go dancing in sneakers??" So she lent me a pair of black flats that were three or four sizes too big, but would have to do, and a skirt. With convincing, she let me wear my own plain top, which was the only thing that fit. She did my make-up too--I felt well taken-care of. "Hm your skin is...okay. You have a lot of marks." Yes, I know I have pimply skin, thanks. "When you go out you have to be perfect. Let's cover this up."

So off we were, to a rum bar near Capitole, the center of Toulouse. She wasn't joking, by the way, about getting boys to buy us drinks; this girl was ON THE PROWL. And she insisted on finding guys for both of us. And I acquiesced, because hey, I can flirt. No one has said that I am not allowed to flirt. Also, one of my friends has a project planned, once we're all back in California, concerning picking up guys at bars--as an experiment, bien entendu. I thought it could be a useful learning experience.

"To get a guy to come talk to you, you catch their eye and hold it for at least 5 seconds, and smile." Funnily enough, this is the exact same advice a Parisienne girl I knew from French House once gave me. This is also why you are not allowed to smile at guys on the street, just to be friendly and say hi.

"Guys in groups of five or six are just out with friends. Or the ones with girls, obviously. The ones who are looking to meet people are in groups of two or three." I take all of this in like a young grasshopper.

"Now here's one who's by himself. That's kind of bizarre. Either he's here specifically for the rum or he has some affair of the heart (histoire sentimentale) to drink away."

I voted drowning his sorrows in drink, and as he was right next to us at the bar, we soon learned that he was out celebrating the loss of his job, as well as his girlfriend. His name was Ederne, a Breton name, 29 years old. He bought us drinks. A mojito for Aurore and for him and me a glass of chouchen each--a Breton specialty, made from honey I think. I had never had a man buy me a drink in a bar before! I do believe the last guy with whom I was flirting in a bar still owes me money, for the drink I bought him.

When Ederne stepped outside for a smoke, Aurore said, "See? Meeting guys in a bar is easy! Facile! Now we just need to find one for me. For you? For me? This one pleases you?"

I was doing my best to go along with the evening, and enjoy myself. "Well, I'm not going to leave with him. But yeah he's cute. I like talking to him, just like this."

And indeed I did enjoy talking to him. I learned about different ways to leave your job depending on what kind of contract you have (if you quit, you give up the right to unemployment for three months, but if you negociate an amicable severance you can get some money from the company), Breton bars (because Bretagne is on the sea, there are a lot of naval and marine influences on the décor--his father was a barman), and his opinion on French Socialism versus American Capitalism ("It's all just 'Might is Right' for you guys!"), and many other interesting socio-political, economic, and cultural topics of discussion, while I barely touched my drink. "I can tell you're not really at ease here. You're different from your friend." Yeah I'm a grandmother on the inside, I told him.

By this time Aurore had found herself a Fred, a man out celebrating his future divorce. "Il me plaît!" she told me. Then she started making out with him, which she warned me ahead of time was normal. The only problem was that unfortunately this meant Ederne thought he was going to get me too. I could tell he was suddenly bolder.

I had no way of leaving and getting home though, because my host refused to go before the last métro. "No! You have to party all night!" For future reference folks, if I say I don't want to go out, it's because I know myself well enough to know that I am never anything but miserable when I'm too tired. Don't think you'll be doing me a favor by convincing me to stay out--I'm not going to surprise myself and end up having a great time. Anyway, sleepiness soon took over and I stopped paying attention to Ederne. I napped at a seat I found instead.

When the bar closed, Aurore and I, and a host of new friends headed for a club, The Shanghai. Ederne, who had still not left, and who was considerably more drunk at this point, put his arm around my waist. "Je vais te faire entrer. Tu peux être ma copine."

Girls, (Jasmine), walking more reluctantly will not get a man to remove his arm from your waist. Walking faster and diving into a group of people works. He attempted offering me his hand. I just stared at it like, "Quoi?" It was not the hand that I want.

When we all got inside the club, I tried to stick to Aurore, but she was occupied. Ederne said he would buy me another drink, and I refused. I think the fact that free alcohol is not at all tempting to me is a good thing. I did let him pay for my coat check, however. Oh well. Back on the floor, he took my hands to dance with me--I busted out my disco moves, for which I need my hands free.

"Franchement, je te trouve très sexy. Je veux sortir avec toi."

Funny, because the adjective I would have picked, after a day that started at 5:30 AM, would have been "destroyed". "Ah bon?"

"Tu es très sexy. Il y aura beaucoup de gars qui va te draguer ce soir et ça me fera mal au coeur." That was a good one. And there was something about how I'd be his first Chinese flirtation, though I didn't quite catch the word and I'm not sure "flirtation" is what it meant.

Honestly though, he wasn't the worst I've encountered, since we were talking before, his attentions didn't bother me. I got the sense that he was probably nice enough normally. But...it just wasn't what I want. What I want, and what I keep wanting, is picnicing on the beach, that night at Les Trois Singes, and Paris. (Am I going to go back to Paris? I don't know I don't know I can't decide)

Eventually Ederne left to dance with someone else and I found myself a corner to zone out. I have to hand it to the other French guys at the club though, it really takes a special kind of optimism to hit on a half-asleep girl practically hiding in a corner just because she accidentally made eye contact. For four hours, I alternated between being draguée-d and legitimately trying to get some sleep with the speakers booming by my ear.

Finally finally finally it was 5 AM, and I caught Aurore just as she was getting her coat to leave.

"Are we going home now?" I asked.

"I don't know! We'll see! I'm hungry!"

"Uh...can I go home now?"

Luckily, she let me take her keys and gave me directions to get to her house. They were utterly confusing directions but I followed signs to find the métro station and relied on my memory to navigate her neighborhood. I was barefoot because it hurt less than wearing the ill-fitting flats, and I was running just because it was cold. Plus I kind of wanted to see if it was true that you run differently without shoes. It didn't feel dangerous at all, actually. Toulouse seems like a safe, but big and lively city. It was just one of those "What is my life?" moments.