Last night, things got pretty crazy around France. Not anywhere near us in Paris--the upside of living in a "boring" part of town is that it's still boring when the "excitement" gets out of control and dangerous. Which in France happens often and, historically speaking, gets taken to another level. But it was not just Paris that melted down in a rage spasm. Earlier this month, we cut short a trip to Bordeaux to get home before strikes shut down the railway. So the burning of the front door of Bordeaux's city hall (mairie) last night bookends for us a pretty disappointing stretch--though certainly not as disappointing as if I had learned I would have to work for another two years or having my car flipped over or business set on fire. Perspective.
We spent a great couple of days in Bordeaux, but not necessarily for any organized wine tasting. Basically, every wine I've ordered by the glass at any restaurant in France--usually a red from Bordeaux or Côtes du Rhone--has been anywhere from good to great for my tastes. I think I had one glass at a restaurant in Nice that was thin and a bit tart. And wine by the glass here is cheap at restaurants, usually about 4 to 5 euros. At one of our local bistrots, they make a big fuss when I order a glass of Les Creisses at 8 euros. I don't know if they're laughing at me or with me, but I don't care because it's a fantastic big red that would cost three times that in San Francisco.
But I digress.
Bordeaux is a beautiful, lively city on the banks of the muddy Garonne River. The protective walls were torn down long ago, but they left the fortifications gates (portes) which now stand like mini-castles throughout the town. The most famous is Porte Cailhau, built in the 15th century to commemorate Charles VIII's victory at Fornovo, in the Italian province of Parma.
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| Porte Cailhau, with Bordeaux unprotected from the marauding hordes ... |
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| ... and all secure with Sugar standing guard. |
Since 1775, Le Grosse Cloche ("Big Bell") has rang in the wine harvests from atop a former medieval prison for juvenile offenders--which is an example of either progressive or punitive justice, depending on your point of view.
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| Le Grosse Cloche. |
Getting to Bordeaux from Paris was pretty easy--about two hours by a train that hit a top speed of 315 km per hour. Unless you did the math to see how much ground you covered in that time--or knew that it takes almost 6 hours by car--you'd never know you were traveling that fast. Just a smooth, quiet ride through the countryside.
Even Sugar was digging the train ride to Bordeaux. Actually, she overheated a bit in her travel bag, dressed as she was for the nasty Paris cold when we boarded.
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| Cooling off at 195 mph. |
Bordeaux certainly welcomes tourists, particularly as the gateway city to the wine region. But unlike Paris, it did not seem to have given itself over wholly to tourists. Sure, there was the usual luxury shopping stroll (and like in most tourist places, this was also where street poverty was most evident), but you could get away from this simply by ducking down any street or alley, and enjoy the relative quiet of everyday French city life (pre-strife, that is, or maybe inter-strife). The medieval and gothic squares of the central city--designated as a UNESCO world heritage site in 2007--seemed to be occupied by locals (that is, busy at lunch and the Golden hour, calm otherwise) rather than swarms of tourists (other than us). Maybe it's different in the Summer. I definitely want to get back and find out for myself if things ever calm down.
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| Église Sainte-Louis-des-Chartrons |
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| The Pont de Pierre over the Garrone river, with Basilique Saint-Michel under renovations in the distance. |
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| Monument to the Girondins executed in 1793 for allegedly counter-Revolutionary activities. Also the name of Bordeaux's Ligue 2 football (soccer) club. |
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