Saturday couldn't come too soon for the group. As much as we enjoyed all the traveling and touring/learning, the group is tired. Deb is sick and had to be taken to a doctor on Friday, so she is rather incapacitated. Several students asked if I would be willing to go into Albi with them. After making sure Deb was OK, I decided to join the students and John.
The firs thing I wanted to do is find a French to English dictionary. It won't do much good at this point except to help me read words. I am still having a great deal of problems listening to the French. Between my hearing and their pronunciation, I feel like it will be tough going. The students (Ed and Gabe) had someshopping to do, and John decided to go into town to try the dessert that I had the previous week at a Cafe there. We were going to meet at the Australian Bar an hour or so after we split up.
John and I also looked at a church I hadn't seen on the original tour of Albi. It was really beautiful inside. There was statue of St. Rochus, who seems to be very popular with the French, and his dog. There were also several statues of St. Theresa of the Rose. It was an enjoyable visit, but I started noticing something that puzzled me. It appeared that many churches were actually tourist attractions, and I'm unsure when they celebrate mass. There is no reverence to the church as I often see in the U.S., at least not by many people. it just seemed strange.
After we left the church we found Ed and Gabe at the "Aussie" bar. I expected to go in and find Crocodile Dundee type individuals, watching sports, belching and arm wrestling (I know, stereotyping is a terrible thing) and drinking some great Aussie beer. Instead they had a French version of MTV on the several Tvs in the place. They had no Australian beers, and there was no one in the bar as big as me. It just seemed like false advertsing or something. There wasn't even a crocodile picture or anything! But I did discover a pretty good French beer, so going in was not without its rewards.
We then left the Aussie bar to go to an Irish Pub. At last I thought, this place will be genuine. The irish are a very genuine people and no one would dare be playing French MTV. There would be Irish beer and a pretty Irish barmaid. And you know what, it was close. There was rugby on the TV, Guiness on tap and a generally bit of the blarney beng thrown around. Everything fit until I approached the bar to buy a few pints of Guiness for me and the "boys". Before I go any further, I have to say this, John does not like beer or any other carbonated beverage. So when I went to get the pints, I said to the barmaid "Three pints of Guinness" and in a very low voice "and you don't have hot chocolate do you"? Low and behold, the barmaid said, of course. She then proceded to pour the Guinness and started looking for some cup to put ho chocolate in for John. But the thought of hot chocolate in an Irish Pub bugged me. Her English was very good, so I asked her where she was from. "Germany," she said. OK, maybe thats why they had hot chocolate.
We drank our pints and headed for the garage to leave town. I know it doesn't sound like much bar hopping, but it was at least one hop.
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