Disclaimer: I didn't do this post soon enough and have had other remarkable amazing things happen since, so it may not sound as awesome as it truly was.
While in Bergerac I was able to spend one beautiful day in Bordeaux. Marc's dad Michelle took me to the train station early in the morning and I spent the hour-long train ride looking at vineyard after vineyard in the clear morning sun. Everywhere was a bower of lilac, hyacinth and "boule de neige." In the ten days we were in Dordogne and Bordeaux the vines went from small looped branches to bright green leaves with the promise of grapes soon to come.
Like Paris, London and Rome, Bordeaux is situated on a river (la Garonne) which makes a C curve through the city. My first impression was formed as I walked from the station toward some cathedral spires dotting the skyline. The streets were dirty, dark and I was a bit worried. I made my way past the Saint Michelle cathedral (the spires I initially saw) where there was a gypsy market. People spread clothes out on mats, selling for 1€ a peice, but probably dug out of someones garbage bin. You could also find old discarded furniture, appliances, books and CDs. Not really my type of market. Although I was intrigued by the people. Very dark skinned and weather beaten, leather like. I would have loved to learn more about them, but alas my language and courage failed me (courage to the point that I wouldn't even take out my camera to snap a couple pictures, which I thoroughly regret). From this quarter narrow winding streets spread out like spokes on a wheel, all curving away and concealing the destination. I started off down one hoping it would lead toward the river.
Out from the dark streets from the St Michelle quarter and onto the Quai Richeleu where an entirely different atmosphere greeted me. Beautiful, tan people jogging along the boardwalk, fountains and buildings influenced by Haussmann architecture. In american terms if Paris is New York, Bordeaux was Palm Beach. It had its own mini Champs Elysees and as already stated the newer parts felt a bit more Parisian. But the people were tan and not thin from smoking instead of eating, thin from drinking wine instead of eating then going out for a run. Instead of wearing black, the women wore bright colored dresses with wide rimmed hats and the men wore linen.
In this quarter I stumbled into my type of market. About a mile and a half of antique booths spread out before me. I once heard the antique markets of Paris described as Paris' attic and this was Bordeaux attic. Each booth set up its furniture as if it was a home and it was like walking through home after home. At lunch time the vendors sat at the tables in each booth and ate cheese, bread, ham and drank wine-I could not have thought of a better way to sell furniture. There were also antique linens bleached by the sun, funky clothes and jewlery and my treasure: a pair of '68 Lanvin sunglasses.
My favorite place we visited was St Emilion. Deep in the vineyards of Bordeaux this beautifully preserved midevil town has an incredible view of vineyards spread over rolling hills from a cathedral rising out of a natural mountainside. That was another thing I loved about the ancient architecture. The buildings seem to be extensions of the rock masses they are built out of. They are not just plopped somewhere like Dorothy's house thrown out of a tornado. So much planning and centuries of building make these strutures formidable, cold and breathtaking. Stone steps are smoothed and grooved by generations of footsteps.
After taking in the view, we had lunch at a bouille-bouille. Here you eat whatever is served for the day. Unlabled bottles of wine are poured freely from the vineyards that the fellow patrons have just come in from working. Little attention is given to decoration (we were sitting at a plastic table on plastic chairs). The central room is reserved for locals, each of whom sits in the same place every day.
More adventures coming soon!
In this quarter I stumbled into my type of market. About a mile and a half of antique booths spread out before me. I once heard the antique markets of Paris described as Paris' attic and this was Bordeaux attic. Each booth set up its furniture as if it was a home and it was like walking through home after home. At lunch time the vendors sat at the tables in each booth and ate cheese, bread, ham and drank wine-I could not have thought of a better way to sell furniture. There were also antique linens bleached by the sun, funky clothes and jewlery and my treasure: a pair of '68 Lanvin sunglasses.
My favorite place we visited was St Emilion. Deep in the vineyards of Bordeaux this beautifully preserved midevil town has an incredible view of vineyards spread over rolling hills from a cathedral rising out of a natural mountainside. That was another thing I loved about the ancient architecture. The buildings seem to be extensions of the rock masses they are built out of. They are not just plopped somewhere like Dorothy's house thrown out of a tornado. So much planning and centuries of building make these strutures formidable, cold and breathtaking. Stone steps are smoothed and grooved by generations of footsteps.
After taking in the view, we had lunch at a bouille-bouille. Here you eat whatever is served for the day. Unlabled bottles of wine are poured freely from the vineyards that the fellow patrons have just come in from working. Little attention is given to decoration (we were sitting at a plastic table on plastic chairs). The central room is reserved for locals, each of whom sits in the same place every day.
More adventures coming soon!
You have missed your calling girl, you should be working on a wonderful travel volume with nothing but the beautiful words and descriptions you are using in your blog. Tom
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