Spoonful Of Loh: MTB - Marseilles, Toulouse, Bordeaux

If there's anything we learned about the French rail system it would be - things are not always as simple as it looks. Don't get me wrong, the rail system looks great on paper and does connect a fair bit of dots BUT getting the train schedules to connect smoothly and seamlessly is an entirely different exercise altogether. Consequently, we failed to get John on his Yellow Train; hell, we even fail to make it to Nice and Monaco but we are not dissatisfied with our MTB run so come along and see what we saw . . .

No printed maps available so we did the next best thing, snapping a photo of one which was on display in a vitrine and took it along with us as we go wandering in Marseilles.

Outside the Gare de Marseilles Saint Charles, it was a bloody hot day, mate.

It seems every French city worth it's salt have a Nortre-Dame, this one is Nortre-Dame de la Garde as seen from Gare Saint Charles.

The port area in Marseilles is not unlike our Darling Harbour in Sydney, except with a thousand times more sailing vessels of all shapes and shades and sizes.

We were walking towards the one of the two forts that flanked the port when we got distracted by our growling stomachs so we stopped at Radisson Blu and ate at the Restaurant Solaris. This is the caesar salad, which John ordered.

I had the mozarella and tomato salad, with an augbergine tweak. Not bad, huh?

Gare Matabiau Toulouse, where we practically stayed the night, well, in the annexe bit called Mercure Hotel. The room we stayed in has nothing to shout about but it is largish and the minibar actually worked. You will see later why this is an important attribute.

If you ever find yourself lost in Toulouse city centre, just look up for the unique pointy towers of the Toulouse Tourism Office to regain your bearings, you won't miss it

On our concierge's recommendation, we went to La Ripaille Restaurant for our first ever dinner in Toulouse; guess what we had? Duck! John and I shared an entree of duck and goat cheese salad, I had the duck and John, the goat cheese

And then we each have our own duck cassoulet as mains, oh yummy yummy, although we reluctantly have to leave most of the white haricot beans untouched. Surely you know one simply cannot over-eat on beans without explosive consequences.

And we then shared a crème brûlée dessert to end dinner on a sweet note.

City centre of Bordeaux, a very youthful city, or should I say a city full of youths. Don't you love the street lamp/clock?

And yes, we took the tram into the city centre from our hotel, it is an ideal albeit a tad squashed way to get around the city. The trams are not overly expensive and on a "pay in good faith" system so you can understand why the packed-like-sardines conditions.

The majestic Bordeaux Cathedral was where Eleanor of Acquitane married Louis VII.

A different view of the Bordeaux Cathedral, or Cathédrale Saint-André de Bordeaux if you prefer the French title.

Forgotten what it's called but I love the way the angel is sort of saying "I've got you, mate" to the fallen fighter in the midst of a very tranquil garden surrounded by noisy car traffic.

The Bordeaux Cathedral as viewed from the front.

Don't you love the gothic arches?

I want a lamp holder like this for the front of our house.

Pre-dinner snack in our room at the Hotel Inn Bordeaux City Centre. John has major issues with the non-working minibar (remember?) and the non-functioning air conditioning. The double jeopardy meant none of these stuff can be kept for another day; we were forced to finished everything off!

In room entertainment - some serious post-election yakking between male host and female guest. There wasn't anything else in English.

Me trying my hand at selling Bordeaux red wine to John in the Le Printemp's Restaurant. In case you wondered the trinkets on my wrist are a Tiffany & Co silver bracelet paired with a quadruple looped yellow leather thong and a Tudor Oyster watch with a burgundy mock croco band.

A sweet and sour success, John did picked a wine from my list but it turned out to be really ordinary. Really.

The Le Printemp's interpretation of crème brûlée, not as good as the one from La Ripaille. The custard was weak, I suspect one more egg yolk would have made a distinct difference, and the top layer of caramelized sugar was not browned enough to my liking.

Whaddya know, the meeting of two great passions - John's Casablanca (ze movie) and my Vinnie's (le shopping)

A side street along the way home. Not a soul in sight.

Another street along the way back to the hotel, can you see the hues of sunset? And don't you love the pendant street lighting suspended precariously above the street.