Window On The Boulevard

Or two star hotel in Toulousse was on a sharply angled corner, our room on the third floor was the tip of the angle and our window looked straight up the Boulevard. To the right side was the Midi canal, whose cycle track had led us to the door, while on the left, lanes and streets led to back alleys and dead ends.

Sunday afternoon, drizzling rain, the window providing a peephole to life on the street. Something was happening, I noticed people gathering on the Canal side of the street, not many, a man and a woman pointing across the street toward a lane, something out of my sight, they were joined by a third and fourth person, all absorbed, pointing and chatting voluably. Another man arrived with a dog, handshakes all round, more pointing and chatting, I could not imagine what was happening.

Soon the gathering had swelled to ten or more, three or four with dogs on leads, then people started coming out of the lane, some walking boldly into the traffic and forcing it to stop, others more cautious, hanging back waiting for the gaps, but all being greeted enthusiastically with handshakes, back slapping and camaraderie from the people, not so from the dogs, snarling posturing and barking they milled about. What was going on, Val was soaking in the bath, I was supposed to be making a cup of tea (on our camp stove, in the room), but this street theatre had me mezmerized. Then a white van appeared, I had not noticed it arrive, but it was backing down the canal path from the traffic lights on a corner two hundred metres away and now stopped, people appeared at the back door and began unloading metal frames and vinyl covers, maybe a concert of some sort?

Now a colourful character appeared, rainbow coloured knitted Beret with a pom pom, two dogs and being greeted like someone returned from a long holiday. Another man arried with two back packs, three dogs and a set of Bongo Drums, maybe the concert idea was right. Dog fights starte up in three different areas, men yelled at and kicked at dogs until order was restored, the crowd now fifty or more surged forward in reasonable order as tables appeared under the awnings large white boxes were lifted onto the table by willing helpers, Sunday Soup Kitchen was under way. Some took their lot and sat on the ground alone, others sat in circles of six to eight, dogs interspersed among them, slovering for leftovers; all the dogs looked well fed.

Suddenly a dog fight erupted on the lane side of the Boulevard, a man in camoflage coloured trousers holding four dogs on a lead,was trying to cross the road, a fifth dog on its own, was harassing the others and their chances of getting across the road unscathed did not look good. The frol the canal side stepped the man in the coloured beret, holding up one hand to the oncoming traffic he walked to the middle of the three lanes stared the drivers to a halt, and signalled the man with the dogs into the road and to the other side.

The food van was there for several hours, the party went on till well after dark; I witnessed the gathering of an unusual club, one I suspect that is easy to join but extremely hard to leave.