Toulon - France

Toulon was a small town. I miss small town in a way for I have been in the big parts of city for a while now since I left Lisbon. So small with a nice port for local yatch and also old looking or antique collector’s item fisherman boats.

Toulon Train Station

The only thing I did not like about Toulon is the way the French people pronounce the name. You have to pronounce the ‘ou’ sharp and like when cursing fuck you emphasise the ‘uc’. That curl of the mouth to say the word does not help either and all in all when you hear it, slightly it feels offensive as if it’s the best place in the world and you are not worthy of it.

 

Toulon Docks

The hostel was a work of art as well in a way. Chicag Hostel. They organized weekly Jazz session downstairs and seam to attract the locals to hang out just outside the hostel after the sunset to enjoy Jazz & Blues. Local artiste that wants to test their skill be it on the piano or the Guitar was always welcome but what made the session special was the interlude of a cello, violin and a harmonica all with that frown on the forehead when the key pianist or guitar kick start a tune, a moment of understanding and clarity then each starts to add in his groove.

I also got suckered to join the Reception Guy at the hostel on his day off for a bike ride off to find a beautiful lake nearby. He did not told me the whole specifics and I did not bother to ask as well which was a mistake. The trip ended short when I had to stop due to exhaustion, lack of oxygen to the brain making me dizzy and vomiting my guts out. After a bit of rest I decided the adventure was not worth the sacrifice and turned around while he ventured on. Late evening that day and he never found that lake …. Apparently it was on the other side of the freaking high mountain. Google map did not mention that.

Bicycle into Inner Toulon

Toulon was worth a day trip I guess … not more but I stuck there for two nights slowing down further.