While it’s a major city of France, Toulouse may have a dense population, but it is far from being a hotspot for tourists. I chose to spend the better part of a month there. For me, it was perfect—big enough to have everything you could need, small enough to not be crowded or commercialized to appeal to tourists, and, best of all, it is unique. The Pink Sheep of France.

Originally, my trip was to be short, just a week, but after a couple of days, I extended it to just under a month. Here, during a time in my life of turmoil, strife, but also wonder, I found a little moment of peace. It was exactly what I needed.

My jaunts to the grocery store or to one of Toulouse’s many, many parks were, almost exclusively, through other parks or along meandering tree-shaded pedestrian paths. It was exquisite to touch just about every point in the city without ever seeing a car, train, or bus.

My own personal superhighway, the stretch of serene water that brackets Toulouse with its sister, the river Garonne, a place where you can’t help but feel your soul being cleansed with each humid breath: Canal du Midi. It is not surprising in the slightest that so many choose to make the canal their home, floating their abode across its body, letting it take them wherever it sees fit. A path is paired with it up and down its great distance, so you can enjoy its grace whether you choose to go north or south.

I was lucky to stay near enough that I could use it when I felt the desire to go into town. Much of the time, I came here to think about absolutely nothing, the slow-moving current washing away every ounce of stress. The world’s tumult can be heard being whisked away with the rustling of the trees. If you’re ever in Toulouse, take a couple of hours to walk along the Canal du Midi, sit on one of its many benches, watch the houseboats pass you by, see its great birch trees, and experience bliss like never before.

I had grown accustomed to thinking of Toulouse as “The Green City.” It is, without a shadow of a doubt, a city of parks—no matter where you are, deep in its suburbs or standing in the city center, you are just steps away from a publicly funded sanctuary of kids playing, dogs chasing frisbees, elderly feeding pigeons, and flowers, flowers, flowers.

Grand Rond quickly became my go-to, sit-in-the-shade, and watch-time-tick-by place whenever I chose to wander downtown. With four separate parks attached to Grand Rond, each extending deep into the city like the roots of a tree, you could spend hours just walking around the park. Jardins des Plantes and Jardin Royal can be accessed via one of these roots, each complementing the other, complete with water features like all good French parks. Better than most botanical gardens around the world, Grand Rond outshines just about every other park you could think of with the sheer number of statues, sculptures, foliage, happy families, and, of course, flowers, flowers, flowers.

Popular among the locals: Parc de Pech-David. I visited many times over my few weeks; I always felt like I could never catch the right time of day for photography. The evenings never rang true with what I had come to observe and enjoy. You come to enjoy food, drink, and a crowd of hundreds come to eat from the food trucks and watch the sun slowly sink below the horizon, with surprising noise due to the dirt bike and drag racing enthusiasts. However, my day trips proved pleasant, taking advantage of the trails that crisscross the hilltop, taking you from Hopital Rangueil all the way to the quaint suburbs south of the city. The light brings few people, and even some horses, which have become a common sight for me here in France.

If you consider yourself to be of a somewhat theological mind, then your attention should turn to Saint Stephen’s Cathedral. You’ve probably never seen a cathedral like this one—the facade is extraordinary, the west entrance a mashup of two different churches. Available to the God-fearing Toulousians of 1078, the Cathedral was constructed with the blessing of Bishop Isarn, at least, that’s how the story goes. It has undergone some dramatic renovations since its inception, making it, to some, Frankenstein’s monster.

I, however, find it wonderful that the decision was made to meld two different churches together rather than destroy one over the other. It is an edifice to endurance and confluence, as a place of faith should be.

Back to our friend, The Minotaur, standing guard just outside Halle de la Machine like a mechanical god waiting to gobble up your children… or give you a piggyback ride. You heard right, folks—for a couple of euros, you can take a ride atop the Parthenon slung across his back. Halle de la Machine is an art exhibit… at least that’s what it says on Google Maps, aptly located on The Path of The Giants. This mansion of the mechanical was a personal obsession of mine during my stay. I visited several times just to marvel at the machines they left outside. I tend to rise just before the sun makes her debut, and something about seeing a monster made of steel at 04:00 really does scratch a certain kind of itch. I also had plenty of fun during business hours watching “The Comedians” play with their mechanical toys and flamethrowers inside.

France is beautiful, from the Seine to the Garonne. Time spent touring France is almost always time well spent. However, if, like me, you want to be somewhere that is free of the pressures of needing to see the next historical artifact or want to stop by the local boulangerie and snag breakfast for less than fifteen euros, come to Toulouse. There is so much more to the city than the short list I have presented. Through its unique architecture, which has been modified heavily from its Roman beginnings and strong Catholic upbringing, there isn’t a square block of downtown that doesn’t have a story to tell.

You can be a foodie here, you can check out the many museums, you can take a ride down the river, you can get lost in the art scene. All great and wondrous things can be found here, like in every wonderful and great French city.

But Toulouse, to me, was the place to let life flow around me like the Canal du Midi. It is here I surrendered, and it is here I was free.