The Pink City, Stone Walls, & Sisterhood: Traveling Southwest France Solo
Every so often, a journey burrows into your soul. For me, that journey was Southwest France. From the magic of Camp Château to Toulouse’s cobbled streets and Carcassonne’s medieval walls, it changed me in ways I’m still unraveling.
I went seeking adventure, beauty, and maybe a little courage. What I found was a version of myself stretched and awakened – shaped by the rare sisterhood of women-only spaces, the richness of Gascon flavors, and the joy of slow, soulful travel. This was not just a trip; it was a turning point, one that will stay with me long after the last glass of Armagnac is gone.
The Spark That Started It
A couple of years ago, an Instagram reel flickered across my feed: a women-only summer camp set in a château in rural France. The algorithm knew me well, but I wasn’t the only woman dreaming of clinking wine glasses in golden fields. Camp Château was fully booked for that season and the next. I added my name to the waitlist and resumed my wistful stalking.
Months later, an email landed in my inbox: the next season was opening. Suddenly, it felt real. My heart raced with excitement, but my shy, introverted self second-guessed everything, doubts chattering as they always do.
But another voice, the one that loves travel, spoke louder. I chose to leap outside my comfort zone – to travel internationally solo for the first time and to throw myself into an experience with fifty strangers.
It’s funny, life’s sliding doors, how they open just when they’re meant to.
Fast forward to this fall, and I found myself touching down in Toulouse, heart pounding with excitement and nerves.
Wandering Toulouse
Toulouse, “La Ville Rose" (The Pink City), with its iconic buildings constructed from red terracotta bricks, gives the city a distinctive pink hue, especially at golden hour. My days here were stitched together with flavor and story, a tapestry of markets, medieval explorations, and the joyous buzz of France’s southwest.
Toulouse’s pink brick buildings
Toulouse is often called the “gateway to Gascony.” Gascon cuisine is rustic, hearty, and unapologetically rich, built around duck in all its forms, the slow-simmered cassoulet of beans and sausage, and strong companions like Armagnac and full-bodied red wines. It’s food born of the land, peasants’ fare elevated over centuries into the dishes that now define Southwest France. I came with one goal: not just to taste it, but to experience it.
I opted to stay right at Boutique Hotel SOCLO (locally, Maison SOCLO), ideally located within walking distance of the historic city center and the Garonne River. The hotel is a former 18th-century residence. It was charming and the staff was terrific. It’s known for its brunch. I loved it for its gorgeous courtyard!
Day 1: First Taste of the Pink City
Toulouse’s pink brick shimmered in the early evening light as I wandered toward the river. My first stop was Pécheurs de Sable, a kiosk tucked under the stone arches of the Quai de la Daurade (the riverfront promenade). The vaulted space was once a morgue, but tonight, as it does most nights, it buzzed with students, couples, and locals sharing food and wine. In broken French, I asked for a sandwich and wine. I got a beautiful pork tenderloin sandwich on a crusty baguette with a glass of local red. The meat was good, but it was the bread, chewy, crisp, perfectly French, that made the meal.
Pécheurs de Sable pork tenderloin sandwich on a crusty baguette
From there, I strolled along the Quai de la Daurade, where the early evening sun lit the Garonne in shimmering blues. Beneath the plane trees, groups sat on the steps at the water’s edge, chatting, reading, or sharing a drink, while the Pont Neuf arched gracefully across the river ahead. To the right, the brick dome of Saint-Joseph de la Grave, the old plague hospital, reminded me that even here, in this lively riverside scene, history is always close at hand.
Quai de la Daurade, Garonne River and the Pont Neuf
That night, communicating felt clumsy. Ordering, asking directions, even small talk took effort. But a simple “Bonjour” softened faces, and most people were happy to meet me halfway. What stood out most wasn’t the language barrier but the rhythm of life here: food was everywhere, in hands, on tables, on steps by the river.
That evening, I sat in Maison SOCLO’s courtyard with a glass of aged Armagnac, live music playing softly in the background. Between the spirit’s warmth and my Kindle, it was the perfect, unhurried Toulouse moment. My trip finally felt real.
glass of aged Armagnac in the Maison SOCLO’s courtyard
Day 2: Markets, Monks & the Soul of Gascony
If my first night had been a gentle welcome, Day 2 plunged me straight into the soul of Gascony. I started the morning at Maison SOCLO with a tray of croissants, frothy café au lait, and fresh orange juice…light enough to leave room for the feast ahead.
Maison SOCLO’s express breakfast
At Marché Victor Hugo, Toulouse’s cathedral of food, the concrete shell hid a labyrinth of flavor. With Ally from Taste of Toulouse, I wandered through butchers and bakers (no candlestick makers, though).
We began with a chocolatine from Maison Beauhaire, its blistered crust wrapped around tender layers and just the right amount of dark chocolate.
chocolatine from Maison Beauhaire
Also from Maison Beauhaire, we tore into an award-winning, still-warm baguette, its crisp shell and chewy interior, an everyday symbol of France itself, simple, essential, and sacred.
Maison Beauhaire’s award-winning baguette
From Papaix et Fils, I tasted foie gras cooked the Gascon way, slow, velvety, rich.
From Maison Garcia, I sampled rustic saucisson (sausage), seasoned with little more than salt and pepper, rillettes d’oie (shredded goose spread), and a mouthwatering morsel of 4-year-aged pata negra ham.
Then came cheeses at Deux Chavannes. I sampled an array of regional cheeses, from a rosemary-topped goat cheese to a nutty aged Comté, each bite like tasting a map of the region, every bite carrying a story of land and people.
And then, the wines. At Chai Vincent, because no French meal is complete without wine, we sipped a trio that could only belong to Southwest France: summery Roc’Ambulle Rosé, crisp Mauzac, and inky and deep La Folle Noire d’Ambat.
Marché Victor Hugo Taste of Toulouse feast
The finale, a Paris-Toulouse pastry from Pâtisserie Authié. A ring of pastry covered with praline cream, and crowned with candied violets, Toulouse’s signature flower. Sweet but not overly so.
Paris-Toulouse pastry from Pâtisserie Authié
Generally, I shy away from group tours, but I thought it would be of comfort as a solo traveler, and I am so glad I did. I think I would have felt very overwhelmed here without a guide. Not only was it incredibly well done, but it was thoroughly immersive, it felt deeply Toulouse.
On the way back, I ducked into Maison Pillon, picking up pistachio and violet-blackberry macarons for dessert later and a little box of candied violets, souvenirs for home.
Maison Pillon macarons
In the afternoon, I stepped into the remarkable, hushed beauty of the Couvent des Jacobins. This jewel of Southern Gothic architecture is known for its soaring columns that rise and branch into the famous palm tree vault, a masterpiece of stonework that seems almost weightless. Sitting in the cloister, in a moment of quiet reflection, I was both humbled and reverent. Within the church lie the relics of St. Thomas Aquinas, the medieval philosopher and theologian whose presence lent the space an even deeper gravity. Toulouse’s history isn’t only tasted in its markets, but also contemplated in its sacred spaces.
Dinner that night was at Au Gascon, and the name said it all. I began with a glass of Floc de Gascogne, lightly sweet and dangerously easy to drink, then ordered the Assiette Gourmande Gasconne, loosely translated to a tasting plate of Gascony specialties: foie gras, duck aiguillettes, and duck ham over crisp salad. For the main, a seared magret de canard (duck breast), its skin crisp, its flesh rosy, paired with a glass of Fronton red (a local wine unique to southwest France). It was hearty, rustic, and deeply satisfying.
Walking back through Toulouse after dark, I felt safe in the bustle of streets still alive with chatter. The city glowed, and I carried with me the taste of duck, violets, and red wine, the essence of a place that already felt like it was working its way into my bones.
Day 3: From Cloisters to Capitole — Tasting Toulouse Through Time
If the market tour was about Gascony’s raw ingredients, today’s food and history tour with Alex from Toulouse Gourmet Tours showed how food and history are inseparable here. Each stop came with both a bite and a story.
At the Hôtel d’Assézat, Alex explained how pastel, the 16th-century blue dye trade, once made Toulouse rich enough to build over 200 private mansions. We unwrapped a chocolatine from Maison Pillon, its buttery layers still warm. Even this pastry carried meaning – in Toulouse, the Occitan language lives on in the word chocolatine, never pain au chocolat.
Down by the Quai de la Daurade, we paused where the Great Fire of 1463 forced the city to rebuild in its signature pink brick. Here, I tasted a rustic macaron craquelé from Au Poussin Bleu, a cracked, chewy ancestor of the smooth modern macaron, whose recipe dates back to the Carmelite nuns.
Revisiting the Couvent des Jacobins with a guide offered new insights. Alex handed out crystallized violets from Pâtisserie Conté, sweet, floral, and delicate, a gentle reminder that Toulouse is the City of Violets.
In the historic city’s grand square of Place du Capitole, Alex brought us into Toulouse’s modern story – the aviation boom that gave birth to Airbus. There, Alex spread rillettes d’oie from Maison Garcia onto a slice of flute bread from Maison Beauhaire, topping it with his homemade fig jam and pickled vegetables. The flavors were rustic and bright, a nod to Toulouse’s mix of tradition and creativity.
At Place Saint-Georges, history turned darker with the tale of the Affaire Calas (1761), when a Protestant man was wrongly executed, a case later defended by Voltaire. Here, the food was equally complex: pâté en croûte (meat terrine baked inside a golden pastry crust) with pork and hazelnuts served with a Castelnaudary bean - the creamy white beans that form the base of traditional cassoulet - salad. Earthy, nutty, and layered, it matched the weight of the story.
Back at Marché Victor Hugo, the tour continued with a cheese tasting with wine: fresh Ami de la Geline goat, nutty Laguiole, and creamy Roquefort alongside a juicy regional Merlot-Cabernet Franc blend.
Finally, at the steps of the Basilique Saint-Sernin, Europe’s largest Romanesque basilica and a key stop on the Camino de Santiago - a historic pilgrimage path that winds through France and Spain toward Santiago de Compostela, I tried a mini gâteau fénétra, or coffin pie, with a history dating back to Roman times. To eat it here, in front of a pilgrimage church, felt like tasting centuries in a single bite.
I very much enjoyed this tour. Blending history and food, two of my favorite things, felt like it was designed just for me. It was the perfect combination, and I only wish tours like this existed everywhere.
After, I wandered into the grand square to visit the Le Capitole, Toulouse’s beating civic heart. Its pink-and-white neoclassical façade stretched wide, commanding the plaza where locals strolled and children played. Inside, I found frescoes and gilded ceilings that gave the halls a sense of grandeur.
The afternoon slowed with a canal cruise on the Canal du Midi, a 17th-century feat of engineering that once linked the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. It was a peaceful and relaxing way to rest my feet.
Canal du Midi
That evening, I returned to Maison SOCLO for a tapas dinner in the courtyard. The menu leaned into Toulouse’s Spanish influence: sardines and toast paired with a glass of vermouth rouge over ice, blistered pimientos de Padrón, and charred octopus swimming in so much garlic (seriously, so much!) along with a glass of Côtes du Rhône. It was the perfect close: Gascony’s heart meeting Spain’s spice, all under the night sky.
Day 4: Castles, Cassoulet & the Taste of Terroir
The bus from Toulouse carried me not just across distance but across centuries. Crossing the drawbridge over the old moat into the Cité de Carcassonne, I felt as if I’d stepped into the Middle Ages…or Diagon Alley. The double ramparts and 52 towers still stand, formidable and enchanting all at once. Inside the Château Comtal, I climbed battlements where soldiers once patrolled.
The Basilica of Saint-Nazaire was breathtaking, its stained glass flooding the interior with kaleidoscope reflections.
It was impossible not to feel the weight of history here. This was a city that had withstood sieges and symbolized Cathar resistance, a 13th-century religious movement that challenged the Catholic Church’s authority. Carcassonne became one of their strongholds until the papal Albigensian Crusade brought the Church’s armies, and later the Inquisition, to stamp them out. The walls still stand as a reminder of that struggle.
For lunch, I headed to La Demeure du Cassoulet. On this brisk day, nothing was more fitting than a steaming clay dish of their award-winning cassoulet. This hearty stew of white beans, sausage, and duck confit is Gascony’s most famous dish. It’s a peasant dish from medieval kitchens elevated into a comfort food legend. My favorite bite was the crispy golden skin of the duck. With it, I drank a local rustic Corbières red. Sitting against the stone walls, I realized this was food as history, a dish that had nourished peasants centuries ago, still warming travelers today.
La Demeure du Cassoulet award-winning cassoulet
Later, I couldn’t resist a sweet stop at Amorino, Carcassonne’s outpost of the beloved gelateria. I found a seat on the edge of a stone fountain, the hum of the cité around me, and looked up at the imposing towers of the Château Comtal. The contrast was perfect, something sweet and fleeting in hand, set against the permanence of medieval stone.
Amorino gelato in Carcassonne
With the sweetness of Amorino still lingering, I boarded the bus back to Toulouse, ready to trade medieval ramparts for modern wine flights.
Back in Toulouse that evening, I experienced French tradition in a different way at Les Petits Crus. Their concept is as clever as it is delicious – cheese and wine flights designed to showcase terroir. In France, terroir means more than soil; it’s the full imprint of land, climate, tradition, and the people who shape it. The guiding principle was simple: “if they grow together, they go together.” A Fronton red with goat cheese from Haute-Garonne made perfect sense, both carrying the same earthy stamp of place.
Wine and cheese flight at Les Petits Crus
The restaurant was small and intimate, clearly designed for dates and small groups, and I’ll admit this was the one time I felt a little self-conscious dining solo.
Walking back through Toulouse’s lamplit streets, I realized the day had spanned centuries and styles, from medieval ramparts and rustic stews to curated wine flights in a modern cellar. What tied it all together was terroir – the taste of place, whether in a bean stew, a glass of red, or a sliver of cheese
Days 5–10: Camp Château — A Rare Gift in the Lot Valley
The train ride from Toulouse to Figeac was more eventful than I’d hoped: delays, garbled announcements in rapid-fire French, and the familiar edge of language anxiety. But stepping off the train, I was no longer alone. A handful of women gathered on the platform, all bound for the same place. Over a simple lunch of roasted chicken at a café in Figeac, strangers began to feel like companions.
Then we arrived: Camp Château Béduer.
Set on 20 acres of rolling grounds in the Quercy Regional Natural Park, the château rose in honey-colored stone, its turrets watching over the Lot Valley. Centuries of history clung to its walls, yet inside was something delightfully modern: a summer camp for women.
Château Béduer
Life at camp was both communal and freeing. I bunked with five women, sharing a bathroom and stories. Mornings began with croissants and coffee, followed by choices that felt as playful or adventurous as we wished: horseback rides past medieval ruins, hikes along the Camino de Santiago, or quiet hours with a book in the château salon. There were morning meditations, picnic lunches on the lawn, and workshops in jam making, jewelry crafting, and art.
The château grounds themselves were magical. Hammocks swayed between trees, a pool shimmered in the afternoon sun, and quiet terraces invited both laughter and solitude. There were gardens to wander, a labyrinth to explore, and tucked-away corners perfect for reflection. It was a place where you could be together or find your own hideaway, equally embraced.
It was the kind of setting that made slowing down effortless, whether with a book, a laugh, or a long nap in the shade.
Excursions revealed more of the Lot Valley. In Figeac’s market, stalls overflowed with cheese wheels, lavender bundles, and handwoven baskets. I tucked away small gifts to carry home. Some women explored the famous Pech Merle caves, marveling at 25,000-year-old paintings. I stayed behind, choosing rest instead, a reminder that camp wasn’t about doing everything, but about doing what felt right.
Figeac’s market
Just like childhood summer camp, we even earned badges — colorful embroidered tokens for everything from morning yoga to horseback rides to silent disco nights. Tucking them into our “châtote” bags (the camp’s signature tote bag) became a playful ritual, each patch a reminder of the joy and connection stitched into our days.
Meals were feasts, grounded in traditional French cuisine: boeuf bourguignon slow-cooked until tender, aligot (a cheese-infused mashed potato) whipped into long ribbons, rich chocolate mousse, and hearty slices of quiche. Bread and cheese seemed endless, and every table brimmed with wine. Around the long wooden tables, conversation flowed as easily as the carafes being passed.
What struck me most was how quickly the conversations deepened. Over glasses of wine or while lounging in the courtyard, I talked with one woman about the challenges of raising kids, with others about living through illness, and with many about our shared love of food, wine, books, and travel. And in a moment that still makes me smile, I joined the silent disco. I never dance, ever, but that night I did. The ease of connection, the honesty, and the laughter felt like the true heart of Camp Château.
Evenings held their own magic. We dressed in costume, danced in the château courtyard, and enjoyed a wine tasting. There was laughter, play, and a freedom that felt rare, like being 12 again, only better.
Camp Château was unlike any other travel experience I’ve had. Its luxury wasn’t in private suites or polished service, but in freedom, connection, and the strength of a women-only space. In a world where women so often hold space for others, here we were invited simply to be – to laugh, to rest, to create.
When the week ended, goodbyes came with promises to stay in touch. We had arrived as strangers and left as community.
We’ll always have France.
Château stairs
As my time in southwest France came to a close, I realized this trip had been about far more than tasting cassoulet or sipping Armagnac in a courtyard (though both will stay with me forever). Toulouse gave me the flavors of Gascony, rich, hearty, rooted in tradition, and the stories etched into its bricks and basilicas. Carcassonne carried me back through centuries of medieval history, where peasant stews and fortress walls still stand strong. And at Camp Château, I discovered something rarer, the freedom and joy of a women-only space, where strangers became sisters over wine, dance, and laughter. As an introvert who once hesitated to take this trip, I’m so grateful I made the leap. I discovered new sides of myself in the company of these amazing women. Together, these days formed not just a travel experience but a reminder of why I wander – to taste, to learn, to connect, and to carry those moments home, stitched into memory like the terroir of a place itself.
Southwest France countryside
I hope this inspires you to travel, to eat, and to join me as I continue sharing my journey through seven continents and infinite foods.
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If You Go – Quick Itinerary
Day 1:
Dinner - Pécheurs de Sable
La Daurade, Pont Neuf, Quai de la Daurade
Day 2:
Marché Victor Hugo (make reservation well in advance)
Au Gascon Toulouse (takes reservations)
Day 3:
Food & history tour (make reservation well in advance)
Canal cruise (takes reservations)
Maison SOCLO dinner
Day 4:
Carcassonne - bus (make reservation well in advance)
Cité de Carcassonne, Château Comtal, Château et remparts
Lunch - La Demeure du Cassoulet
Les Petits Crus (takes reservations)
Day 5-10:
Camp Château (books well in advance; get on the waitlist)
**I highly recommend that you make reservations in advance when available. I always book scheduled activities and typically make dinner reservations in advance. I’ve indicated with a parenthetical any places that take reservations.