Bordeaux, Je t’aime
Constructed in the 15th century, Porte Cailhau was once the main gate to the city and part of the city’s ramparts.
When meeting someone for the first time – whether it is back in the States– or here in France, one of the first questions that come up is, “Why France” or “Why Bordeaux?”
This question varies depending on who is asking. I have yet to be asked “Why Bordeaux” by a Frenchman or woman (the appeal of La belle no longer Endormie is very much on the “sais quoi side of the ledge) – but I am asked, "Why France?" This question is sometimes followed by the exclamation “C’est Galère!” (It’s a pain!). I will return to the aches and pains that come with living in France (and any intersection with French officialdom), but let me start with Why Bordeaux.
The short answer is that I love Bordeaux. In Summer 2021, when COVID travel restrictions were first relaxed, I lived in Bordeaux downtown for two months while working remotely. And I fell in love with the city. Like, head over heels in love. Bordeaux, Je t’aime. The baguettes, wine, and the exuberance of a city coming out of confinement and celebrating summer helped - but even on the wet drizzly days and the oppressive summer nights when I grieved the lack of air conditioning and the pervasiveness of the mosquitos, I loved it. It made me happy.
It made me happy to wake up in the morning and step out to the cobblestoned streets to get a coffee and a croissant or to pick up my daily baguette. I loved to walk along the riverside, a long park stretching from the Point de Piere to the more modern Point Chaban Delmas. I really loved the park along the Garonne river, and how everyone of all ages (families with young kids, lovers young and old, groups on friends) would promenade or relax along the quai-side with the families concentrating around the Miroir d’Eau during the day as kids played on the water feature. (Below, three views of the Miroir d’Eau)
I loved the walkability of the city - and the fact that I walked more. At the same time, with the sleek, quiet trams snaking their way seamlessly across the city, that meant I didn’t have to walk everywhere. I loved that the search and patronage of a favorite boulangerie was a thing and topic of earnest dinner discussion – at least at the dinner tables I was at.
The Counter at Au Petrine Moissages
One of my favorite bakeries is also one of the oldest, with the over dating back to the 1700s. The real reason I moved to France: the best in bread.
There is also a relaxed “coolness” to the sunny city. It was more inviting than Paris (and cleaner). Parisien chic is always ‘on point’ – but there is that reserve and slight rigidity and standoffish of the Parisian. Bordeaux is the door to the south and the Bordelaise “viennent du sud”. There is a bohemian beach style (#CapFerret forever) and people are just that little bit more relaxed, more welcoming.
In short: I found my place, and I promised myself that I would live here. In February of this year I (finally) packed up my bags and relocated across the Atlantic. This blog is my love letter to my favorite city.
Bisous,
Tina
