Visiting Bordeaux: Balmy Delays

“A restorative town for me is one where I can walk everywhere, see water flow, eat good food and linger in air conditioning.” My desires in life are not mighty, I think. – Old Sean

Struggle South

Public transportation in Paris this year, is, in short, horrendous. 

My brother and I have been lounging around the Paris area only to find almost every public transportation service utterly in shambles.  Trains are late.  Buses vanish without rescheduling.  Local transport around cities have slashed their rides to minimal amounts.  Online resources prevent bookings.  And when the stars align and it’s possible to book tickets, they cost a whopping 150 Euros for two hour train rides.

France, in short, has become absolutely antagonistic this tourist season in the public transportation realm.

My brother and I were hard pressed to leave Paris and head south to Bordeaux.  It was the last stop on our collective trip and where my brother’s flight home was taking off. 

With remarkably few other options, I finally bought a rideshare service from Blablacar to Bordeaux, an eight hour car ride south. 

However, our driver was… less than stellar.  He refused to turn on the air conditioner in fairly intense heat despite repeated requests.  He was willing to roll down the windows slightly, but only until the wind got loud on the highway, at which point the glass crept back up.  Child safety locks effectively trapped us in the backseat until my brother clambered out the front door.  Our driver was an addict to tailgating, and every hitch in traffic resulted in a lead foot dropping on the breaks.

I was relieved to finally escape the car with my sweaty sanity.  My brother and I eagerly left our driver behind and sought out our Airbnb in Bordeaux.

European Oven Cities

When we arrived at our house, I was very pleased to meet three cats and an exceptionally hospitable  French family.  We were placed in a room on the second story of a tall house, following a tight spiral staircase to a private bathroom with a lush view of the backyard neighborhood.  The only trouble, which my brother struggled with mightily, was a profound lack of air conditioning.

France typically doesn’t play around with air conditioning.  The country has a strange aversion to even installed air conditioners which I don’t understand.  Nine to twelve months out of a year, this doesn’t matter.  But Europe has been slammed by increasingly harsh heat waves for the past decade, transforming homes into ovens. 

Our room was no exception.  Though the window was open and a metal desk fan worked on maximum rotations, full time, our upstairs room gradually heated up through the day.  Sleep was only possible at night after taking a lukewarm shower and staying damp enough to leech away heat. 

The Beauty of Bordeaux

Difficulties with heat waves aside, Bordeaux is just as beautiful as tourism message boards had me believe.  The city is crafted with narrow buildings made of tan stone.  Thin balconies, tiny parks with fountains and cobbled roads spiral outwards for miles from the city center. 

My brother and I spent the first two days in Bordeaux simply exploring.  It soon became apparent that most of our explorations would need to be limited to the mornings and late evenings, since the heat was truly crippling midday.  When we were caught outside at high noon, we were forced into stifling restaurants, downing entire gallons of free water and iced coffee at each stop.

Despite that, there’s a lot in Bordeaux worth seeing, even in summer weather.

People getting their toes wet in Bordeaux start around Saint-Pierre, the major town center walking district of the city.  Large streetways network in a confused jumble, seeking out wide plazas, umbrella-covered alleys, random restaurants, bright pastry shops and classy window shops.  My brother and I primarily rotated through this area to munch gleefully on evening restaurants.   The heat drained us so considerably, we basically vetoed cooking for our three-day-stay.

Amongst A City’s Wander

We passed Miroir d’eau, the enormous riverside reflecting pool facing the city fountains.  While many online photos show a huge, shallow, placid pool catching the very sky, the tourism reality is quite different.  A hoard of children dominate this area, splashing in the puddled concrete with such gusto that we ended up steering around it.  The surrounding riverboats, night views of rainbow-tinted lights, small dance centers and gated gardens helped define the river-walking area nicely. 

Further north, we passed the obligatory European Ferris Wheel, located at the edge of Place des Quinconces, a large, stately plaza.  The opposite side of the plaza hosts a proud, upright pillar with a enormously detailed fountain at the bottom, called the Monument aux Girondins. 

Slightly further north are various riverside bars as well as the quaint Jardin Public.  Black-and-white ducks plod along the tiny islands happily enough and a labyrinth-like botanical garden exists behind a classical stone wall.

Each night, I stayed out a bit longer than my brother, who was visibly-drained from the heat swell.  I often sent him home early while I enjoyed the relative cool of evening alone. 

Bordeaux at Night

One of the deepest charms of Bordeaux are the normal, quiet streets of the city.  These narrow footpaths, barely large enough for a single car, are awash in yellow light each night.  Haunting and quiet, softened by darkness, these endless streets radiate a tranquility usually only found in quiet towns at witching hour.  I found a nice, noisy bar to order a strange German drink before heading home for the night.

The following morning, my brother and I sought out other city sights.  Rue Sainte-Catherine is the favored shopping main street of Bordeaux.  Teeming with tourists, this street isn’t terribly interesting unless a person is distinctly interested in designer labels.  But the street does also rotate close to the Musee d’Aquitaine, the Bordeaux Cathedral and the Pey Berland Tower.  The latter two are very visually stunning, and my brother and I lingered here for long hours.

There are other points of interest around Bordeaux.  Restaurants with astounding chocolate desserts and obscure, half-darkened artwork.  Silver-backed photography studios with French descriptions.  Bronze tortoise statues with miniture figures riding on their broad heads.  Pink, orange and yellow umbrellas directing hoards to rich plaza-fountain areas.  Thick-piped water-pumps where locals refill water bottles.  Logs carved with two-inch rivets to chain bikes.  Arches hosting medieval spires and blue clock faces.  Cookie shops serving lumpy, sugar-laden delicacies.  And a wide, brown river which churns with threatening speed and vitality.

A Day Tour

On our last full day in Bordeaux, I convinced my brother to come visit the local wine capital of the countryside, Saint-Emilion. Our adventures there will be the subject of another post.

Finally, after a day exploring Saint-Emilion, we returned back to Bordeaux for a tepid meal of noodles.  We were entirely wrung out, and my brother made a noble attempt to conserve energy for his endless flight home the following day.

The following morning we arose, guzzled a huge amount of coffee and walked Bordeaux together one last time.  Naturally, our goodbye was much longer than intended, since the airport bus failed to arrive for three cycles.  So thirty minutes later, I hugged my brother farewell and trudged off on my own.

There is very little else to report from my time in Bordeaux.  I ended up staying with a lovely lady near the airport, writing this little ditty.  But I’ve been almost ruthlessly neglecting my work these past weeks of family travel.  My remaining time was spent largely catching up on adult responsibilities and updating this blog.

On that note, I hope these stories continue to amuse, inform and wander. 

Until next time,

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Written July 19th, 2022

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