Bordeaux - finished 21 Decembre
The next thing I knew it was Veteran’s Day! In France it’s called November 11th, and it’s a no work day- for anybody. With no classes to take up my time, I made my way to Bordeaux to live with people I’d never met. It’s sort of a long story, but here it is, bref, as the French say. About a hundred and forty years ago, my mom and aunt went to a summer camp near Brooksville called Camp Four Winds. It no longer exists except in the minds of a group of now grey haired alums. It’s also important to mention that Camp Four Winds was, as my grey-haired-alum-mother says: Camp Four Winds, a summer camp for girls. There were no boys - that was Camp Robinhood, at the other side of the pond. Clearly there were no boys at Four Winds, if there were boys it would have been called Camp Breaking Wind, but since girls don’t poop or fart… well, you get the picture.
Anyway, so one year (or maybe two years, I don’t know and this is my story anyway), my mom had this French girl living in her cabin. In the end, three siblings (of 5) from this family went to Four Winds, and the youngest was a few years younger than my aunt. Fast forwarding about a generation, I was put in contact with this youngest sibling who subsequently invited me to come spend a weekend with them. Well this could be awkward, and I had my doubts, but the thought of a weekend in Bordeaux, the Mecca for alcoholi… oh, I’ mean wine lovers, was too good to pass up. Oh did I mention that the family owns a chateau and produces a sizable amount of wine? Yeah, I wasn’t missing this for the world!
Anyway, I was so damned excited and happy to be going to Bordeaux that I COMPLETELY forgot to wish my lovely grandmother, Gimmie, a happy birthday. Thank God, I’m an only grandson on that side and she can’t give my portion of the inheritance to any other grandkids! (Crisis averted - smart move, parentals!)
Back to the story: I got to Bordeaux, got off the train, and waited. What choice did I have? I didn’t know what these people looked like, and I’d already given them all the info to find me on the train dock. I soon got a call, and within minutes of finding them on the quai, it was like I’d known Christiane and Arnaud (husband and wife) forever. They were so welcoming and couldn’t have been nicer.
Back to the story: I got to Bordeaux, got off the train, and waited. What choice did I have? I didn’t know what these people looked like, and I’d already given them all the info to find me on the train dock. I soon got a call, and within minutes of finding them on the quai, it was like I’d known Christiane and Arnaud (husband and wife) forever. They were so welcoming and couldn’t have been nicer.
We went to their home where I met their three children and where I dropped off my bags. It was almost crazy how at home I felt there. After having a drink of mint syrup and water (an interesting mixture, but surprisingly refreshing given the warm weather), Arnaud and I went downtown to the wine museum. I lucked out having Arnaud as my tour guide, as he knew more about wine than the museum employees! Arnaud is a négociant, which means he buys and sells wine to distributors - sort of like a stock broker for wine.
With our dinner of lamb and veggies, was plenty of red wine and Christiane’s sister, Caroline, who was in my mom’s cabin at Four Winds. She was like the quintessential cool aunt who travels the world, bakes in the sun, and smokes cigarettes faster than Camel can roll them. Dinner was great and a lot of fun, followed by every Frenchie’s favorite pastime: a soccer game against the United States. Of course the Americans ended up losing.
The next day we all went off to the family’s chateau: the Chateau du Taillan. A beautiful eighteenth century chateau, Taillan is the thing dreams are made of. While the grandkids and the dog helped grandma make lunch, Arnaud, Christiane, and I took a tour of the wine making facilities. There, about 30 feet below ground, dozens of casks of wine were sitting in a Medieval chai (pronounced shay - that’s the official name for the structure), waiting to be put in bottles.
Between Arnaud and Christiane, there was nothing that they didn’t know about wine, and they took me into the modern areas where the wine is made. It was crazy. Shoved into a five hundred year old building were huge stainless steel vats where grapes turned into wine. Just like you see on television, we took our glasses and placed them under spigots on the vats and tasted the different wines, looking for their various qualities. It was crazy how different the new wines were from those that were a bit aged. It was also crazy how surreal this all was!
After our tour of the chai we went for a walk of the property. It is vast, to say the least. I believe it comprises about thirty hectacres, and there were grapes as far as the eye could see. Along with the chateau and chai, there were also barns, outbuildings, houses, and stables. The grapes were interesting because they are also shaped roughly the same. They also split about a foot off of the ground. The grapes have to be cut every year, and they have to be cut by a professional. Because it takes both branches of a grape plant to grow grapes, a wrong cut could render an entire plant useless for growing grapes. In some cases, each plant is worth over a thousand dollars, so it could be an expensive mistake.
With the tour of the grounds over, we returned to the castle for cocktails and then lunch. What’s more French than chicken and fries, with wine, cheese, and canelés? It was heavenly.
Chateau Margaux
From Taillan we went on a car tour of the region to some of the biggest chateaux of Bordeaux. With bottles costing hundreds of dollars, Chateau LaTour, Chateau Margaux, et lots of others were on the tour, and it was interesting to notice that our idea of chateaux (i.e. Versailles), is not at all how things are in reality. As already proven by Taillan, many of the chateaux of Bordeaux were the size of large American country houses, not at all fairy tale castles. Not to degrade them, but they weren’t the royal chateaux that we have in our mind when we hear the word chateau. Some of the other chateaux were little more than wine producing properties with chai. No real chateau to be found.
Touring over, we returned to the town of Bordeaux where Arnaud, Christiane, and I walked around, taking in the famous opera, the beautiful miroir d’eau, and the bourse. In total, I felt as though Bordeaux rivaled Paris as far as beauty and ambiance. In general I found Bordeaux more accessible than Paris, as it was much smaller and more real. Paris is huge, beautiful, and almost museum-like in some aspects. Not that it’s a bad thing, but Bordeaux was real. It was not a museum. People lived there and it was truly French.
Opera
Bourse and the Miroir d'eau
 |
| Bourse |
Mecca - literally paradise on earth
The next day, my final day in Bordeaux, we took a ride to the Dune of Pyla, which is the biggest naturally occurring sand dune in Europe. It’s about 1.5 miles long, and over 350 feet high, and all sand! Luckily there was a staircase to go up the dune, otherwise I would have probably died, as it was really hard to walk on the sand. I learned this firsthand when Gaille, the dog and I went all the way down to the water’s edge. It wasn’t that bad on the way down, but I damn near died on the way up! Ahhhh! When I finally made it up to the top, I was more than ready to sit down and enjoy my sandwich. With nice fresh baguette, plenty of butter, and nice thick slices of ham, life was perfect. Well, almost perfect given the storms of blowing sand that made for an occasionally gritty sandwich.
Wikipedia picture of the dune
First view
the entire length
From the water looking up
Nazi engineering skillz
After lunch we drove to some of the nearby towns, which were equally cute and beautiful. Luckily for us the weather was beyond beautiful (still!) Before I knew it, it was time to leave and head back to Paris (with plenty of wine shoved into my bags). I wasn't sad to return to Paris, but I can’t wait to return to Bordeaux again!
