Since most of the day was gone by the time we got up and changed, we decided we would nip to the local Ikea to get some bits and pieces for my future apartment. Once there I must admit that I got a bit carried away, and spent far too much money on furniture that I will probably have to leave in Toulouse (I genuinely don’t how I’m going to get all of my things on a plane as it is). Using my swanky French debit card which says I am a Mademoiselle cancelled out the heartache a bit though.
This Ikea was beyond the Ikea’s I know at home. At home, a trip to Ikea is somewhat like being on the tube; huffs and sighs are heard the whole way round the store as peoples frustration with one another grows, with arrows that seem to provide the British with the uneasy sense of being told what to do. This Ikea however was an amble stroll with your fellow home makers, with a canteen filled with French deliciousness. Wine on tap – need I say more?
I got a few cute things to make my room feel a bit more homely, and I’m actually quite excited to get all settled in and pretty.
A family pact was agreed that Friday was a strict POOL POOL POOL DAY. The weather forecast for the following days was looking bleak, so my sister and I made a concious effort to get our tan on, especially since I start the old 9 to 5 on Monday (eep!). We spent the day mucking around, reading and swimming, and subsequently ended the day much pinker than we started; fingers crossed however that should do me until next year (spoiler: it won’t). It was nice to just chill out, something that we haven’t really done since we got here. It made our time seem a lot more like a normal holiday!
Later on we headed into town for drinks and dinner. Mum and I sank a cocktail or two in front of la mairie in the place du capitole, before having dinner at a pasta place called Mille et une pâtes. It was certainly one of the more interesting experiences that we’ve had so far… dinner ended up as some sort of duck lasagne, half raw salty fish salad for mum and rock hard cappellettis for Dad. I’m not sure if they were supposed to come like this, but I don’t think that my taste buds are used to the French way just yet.