I guess Bordeaux could be considered part of our Grand Tour visitation with friends and family. Chris and Rose will be joining us for a week or so and they certainly qualify as friends. We met when we were all working in Uganda, we stayed at their home in the UK, ran into them again in South Africa and left the warmth of Arizona to freeze with them in Quebec on one of their Canadian visits.
After switching rental cars at Bordeaux-Mérignac we picked up Chris and Rose and headed to the AirBnB— two bedrooms, two baths and a functional kitchen with enough space so we won’t be stepping on each other. After we shared travel tales and and other lies, Chris and Rose settled in for a well-deserved nap—they had been up since 2AM—then we all went foraging for snacks and wine. John, self-proclaimed chef-de-maison, took care of dinner while Chris, sommelier-in-chief, poured some good local wine. Then poured a little more. If we’re not careful, our next stop will be with Friends of Bill.
Bordeaux hadn’t even been on our radar until Chris suggested it. Bordeaux is a UNESCO World Heritage Site with more protected buildings than any city in France except Paris and we were ready to give it a go. Situated on the Gironde River it has been settled since 300 BC but—for our purposes—Bordeaux came into its own during the 12th Century following the marriage of local beauty Eleanore of Aquitaine to the future Henry II of England. During its golden era in the 18th Century, Bordeaux was the second busiest port in the world behind London, trading in coffee, sugar, cotton…and slaves.
Armed with three-day metro passes the four of us set off to see what Bordeaux had to offer. Once in the old town we wandered from the Place de la Bourse with its fountain to Porte Caihau, the finest of Bordeaux’s six gates where there is a “you are here” model of Old Town. Fearing a Pisa-like fiasco, the Tower of Pey-Berland and Saint André Cathedral are not attached yet still work well together. While I was busy photographing some of the terrifying grotesques on Saint Andre, the others disappeared into the church. After ritually genuflecting, Chris and Rose lit candles while we heathens listened to the organ music and marveled at the ornate arches and stained glass.
When the clock at Promenade Saint-Catherine passed noon, Chris treated us to the ‘plate du jour” at an Italian restaurant—with wine, of course. With Connie and Chris working the city map we (mostly) never got lost or took the wrong metro line and found our way home before it began to rain. After the hearty lunch, it was lite fare for dinner.
