Bordeaux, c’est ça

Bonjour! (or, Bonsoir! in fact because it is indeed “soir” as I am writing this).

When we last left off, I had acted on a whim and bought a ticket 4 hours before the flight from Portugal to France. Since then, I have been in 3 cities in France, eaten many, many chocalatines (pain au chocolates for everywhere other than Bordeaux), and met an actor from one of my favorite TV shows. To say this was a success is an understatement.

This is also one of the most spontaneous things I’ve ever done. When I was planning this trip, I agonized back and forth between planning exactly where I wanted to be or going off of #vibes. Much to the amazement of many of my friends who consider me a Planner, #vibes mostly won out. It’s funny to think about how I had booked a different flight and decided just to skip it and change my plans–Melanie from a few years ago would never have done such a thing, feeling like she had to uphold something that was set, even if it no longer served her. #MainCharacterEnergy Melanie said, “The hell with plans. I’m doing what I want.”

As I mentioned in my last post, I was casually scrolling Instagram, as one does, and I saw that an actor from Candice Renoir was showing his film in a film festival near Bordeaux. Being a #fan, I follow most of the actors from the show, and knew that many of them had cameos in it…and as a film festival seems like a very French thing to go do, I decided I couldn’t miss it–it’s not every day that I’m in France after all.

I landed in rainy Bordeaux on Thursday night and made my way to the hostel that I had just booked a few hours earlier. One of the reasons I liked to have my plans all set in the past is I wanted to know where I was sleeping and how I was getting there. As this experience proved to me, you can often find somewhere to sleep with very, very little notice.

Central Hostel in Bordeaux was right in the center of the city. In fact, my Uber couldn’t get there because it was surrounded by pedestrian only streets. When I got to the hostel, there was a lively vibe in the lobby because it turns out happy hour lasts all night. I dropped my bags off in my room and decided to join the fun. Or at least be surrounded by the ambiance as I wrote in my journal with a glass of red wine (I was in Bordeaux, after all) at hand.

I had been sitting there for no longer than 5 minutes when a man named Antoine came up to me and started asking me questions in very slurred English. I should note, this was not because he didn’t speak English. This was because he was celebrating his last day of work at the hostel and therefore had been imbibing with his friends all evening. Now I understood the atmosphere.

Soon, other members of his entourage came up to talk to me, some in French and some in English, and I was ingratiated into a crew celebrating. It was very clear, however, that they were on a different level than I was going to be, so I began talking to another couple of folks, Constance and Tom, who were as excited to practice their English as I was to practice my French. In a conversation that lasted a few hours, we discussed entertainment, travel, learning a new language, American politics (woof), and Madonna while they spoke in English and I responded in French. They gave me pointers on my French, and I returned the favor for their English. I was really nervous this first night in France as I desperately wanted people to speak to me in French, yet my nerves made it hard for me to form sentences. As soon as I got to talking to Constance and Tom, those nerves went away, and I realized that they felt the same way I did. It was truly the best way to start my France vacation.

The next morning, I started by doing another very Bordeaux activity…eating. Bordeaux, like most French cities, has several markets with fresh vegetable, fruit, meat, fish, dairy, etc. food stalls. I remembered from Anna and my trip to Avignon 12 (!!) years ago that the market was one of the best places to buy food, so I promptly went to the Marché des Capucins for breakfast that morning. I sat at the counter of one of the brasseries and ordered the “formule petit dejuner”, a chocolatine, a boisson chaude (espresso for me), and a freshly pressed orange juice. Sitting there doing my crossword, along with the other people reading the paper or doing their crosswords, I felt very French. Nailing it day one.

After breakfast, I fell in love. I have been joking for a few weeks that my goal for this trip was to fall madly in love, and I did that my very first morning. Not with a suitor, but with the city. The soft sun perfectly hit the limestone buildings in the most romantic way, and I felt like I was walking through a fairytale. Without really a plan, I meandered my way through the city, taking narrow side streets, passing palaces, and walking along the river. I didn’t even care that there was a chill from the breeze. With my tan trench coat and purple beret, I fit right in.

On the idea of falling in love, my therapist asked me what I meant by that before I left. I told her I wanted romance…but that didn’t necessarily mean romance romance. I wanted to feel romantic. So, for lunch, I did one of the most romantic things I’ve ever done, and I took myself to Le Pavilion des Boulevards a Michelin star restaurant for their 4 course lunch menu. Michelin star restaurants and tasting menus are a far cry more affordable in France than they are in the United States, so it really seemed like a crime not to go.

When I say this experience was life-changing. I’m not joking. This was by far one of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life, and they could not have been lovelier. When I got there, they promptly took my coat and escorted me to my table — pre-set for 1. That little detail was so nice. Sometimes, dining alone can feel so lonely–especially at a nice restaurant. The fact that the default wasn’t a couple made me feel seen and set the tone for a really lovely experience.

Things only went up from there. Starting with bread service, followed by a chestnut cream with chopped mushrooms and a quail egg; cod with sesame foam, pureed artichoke, coffee gelee, and melt-in-your-mouth seaweed shortbread (go with me on this one); duck with a red-wine reduction with parmesan polenta and glazed turnips; finished off with a “floating island” with sauteed pear and a creme anglaise. This was capped off by a coffee and “mignonettes”, or little desserts, which were the perfect way to end the meal.

It was all to die for. I brought a book with me to occupy myself as I sat, but I didn’t need it. The flavors and experience were captivating enough. When I left the restaurant, I did a little dance, I was so happy. Treating myself to that type of meal is something I rarely do, and the whole experience felt romantic. I capped it off by wandering back to my hostel through the absolutely lovely gardens (just beating the incoming rain) before catching my train to Sarlat-la-Caneda. Not a bad first day in Bordeaux.

The train to Sarlat was much easier to figure out than the trains in Portugal–no hidden assigned seats–and it was a fairly uneventful ride. Things got fun when I got to Sarlat. Sarlat is a remote, old medieval town (that I actually knew about because it was one of the featured towns in another French mystery show I like). But, that means it’s not very populous….which means when you’re there the weekend of a major film festival, there are no Ubers.

So, I began a trek in the dark from the train station to my AirBnB 20 minutes away. When I booked my lodging, the location seemed to be in the center of town. It was not. After 10 minutes of walking to the center of town, then realizing that I’d have to go up a hill (with my suitcase) for 10 more minutes to find my original lodging, I said “Nope”, and I decided my safety and comfort was more important (not that I ever felt unsafe, but…). I walked into the first hotel I saw on the main street and asked if they had a room open. They did. They couldn’t have been more helpful, and even thought I had to bring my suitcase up 2 spiral staircases (my personal nightmare conquered), I think this was where I was supposed to stay all along. The name of the hotel? Hotel Renoir. (If you’re playing along at home…you know why this matters).

I dropped my suitcase off and then went to dinner at the one restaurant, appropriately named L’Endoit (the place) that was still open, around the corner from the movie theater. I had a delicious burger and fries (and a salad! huzzah!) before heading over to the theater. I’m not sure how I was hungry after my lunch, but I think the suitcase walk had something to do with it.

Even though I live in LA, I’ve yet to go to a real film festival (thanks, COVID). The theater was abuzz with excited movie goers, mostly teenagers interested in film, and we filed into 4 theaters showing the Comme Un Prince (apparently, it was one of the special features of the festival). I got lucky and got a place in theater 1, where the cast and crew of the movie were going to be.

As I knew that some of the Candice Renoir cast had cameos in the film, I wasn’t sure who would show up, and snagging a seat in front of the “reserved” row felt like a good choice. The movie started promptly at 22:00, and it was truly excellent. When it started without subtitles (not even in French), I was worried that I wouldn’t understand it, but I’d say I understood about 85% of it perfectly. I can tell you exactly what happened, maybe I just missed a word here or there. For my first outing without any subtitles, I was pretty pleased! The movie was the perfect blend of romantic comedy and sports movie that gave it depth and interest. And, it was filmed at a beautiful French palace and incorporated a good bit of history. Can’t complain about that.

I had seen a lot about the movie on Instagram as Ali Mahyar (the director) had been sharing about it, as had the other cast members of Candice Renoir, singing his praises. While none of the rest of the cast was there (did I practice what I would have said to Cecile Bois? maybe), I did get to talk to Ali. I tried speaking in French, but my nerves and excitement got the better of me, and I bumbled through my French (in fairness to me, I would have bumbled through English in this situation too). He couldn’t have been nicer as I told him I was a fan of Candice Renoir, and he made sure I liked (and understood) the movie. I assured him I did.

Sarlat, in addition to having a film festival, is known for its expansive Saturday market. I asked the concierge at my hotel how to get to the market, and I really didn’t need to. It takes over the entire town. From clothing stalls to soaps to fruits to cheese, everything is represented. I enjoyed wandering the medieval streets, passing the booths and sampling things as I went. All of the vendors were so nice, and I had some lovely conversations explaining to them that I was visiting from California.

One of the coolest things about the market, in addition to the backdrop of medieval castles and churches, was that everyone seemed to know each other. I know that’s not atypical for a small town, but the way everyone in town poured out for the Saturday market to do their shopping felt really special.

While I didn’t accomplish my goal of having breakfast from the market (unless you count an olive and shot of the regional specialty hazelnut liquor breakfast), I could have had a meal of just the sights and smells of the market. I did stop at a patisserie for a tarte aux pomme and an espresso before making the trek back to my train to return to Bordeaux.

It had been a lovely day in Sarlat, and I was unfortunately greeted with wind and rain back in Bordeaux. For my return to the city, I had booked a hostel in a different area–the old warehouse/ industrial port district turned hip-bar and artsy area. Like most cities that had an old warehouse district. My hostel, the very cool Whoo!, was perfectly situated next to a public garage where people could bring their cars and work on them (while blasting music and drinking wine) and down the street from a fancy food hall called the Halles de Bacalan. As the weather was crap, I didn’t want to venture too far, so I decided that seemed to be a good place to go for dinner. Apparently I wasn’t alone as it was PACKED. The hall had all sorts of food: tapas, “deli” food, sushi, meat, Portuguese, Italian, and quite a few wine bars.

I did the typical thing anyone in my family does when they are confronted with too many choices and it’s about half an hour after they should have eaten. I did a Gary Walk-About (TM). I wandered around the stalls several times before deciding on what to eat. Realizing that I was hungrier than I thought I was (as evidenced by the sudden nerves and “what the hell am I doing here by myself” feeling I had while I tried to find a seat), I decided on a big bowl of pasta that perfectly went with the wine I got. I finally found a place in the middle of two groups of friends both saving seats for other people, but I managed to ask (in French!) if I could sit there and it wasn’t too scary. After quickly eating my dinner, I decided to call it an early night on account of the weather and early morning I had planned the next day.

I had two activities booked before I left: one was my Douro Valley wine tour, and the other was my wine tour in St. Emillion, one of the famous areas in the already famous Bordeaux wine region. Bordeaux is divided into several different appellations, which is the geo-political boundary of a wine region. It turns out, wine making is very political and regimented in France, and in order to be labeled a St. Émilion wine, let alone a St. Émilion Grand Cru or Grand Cru Classé, you need to meet a certain set of requirements. This includes everything from the types of grapes used to the soil to the consistency of the quality year after year.

There are over 350 AOCs (not that kind) in France, and each have different rules about the wine they can produce. St. Émilion, being the right climate for Merlot and Cabernet Franc, is known for its red blends of mainly those two varietals. There are some with Malbec grapes (which everyone stressed were French and not Argentinian), but you’re unlikely to find many white varieties out of the area. And if you do, they are certainly NOT Chardonnay.

We started our day with a drive out to St. Émilion, stopping at the church terrasse to see over the medieval city and learn about its history, particularly why the region became such a wine hotspot. We also got to stop at the bakery that is known to have first perfected the plain macaron cookie recipe. It was started by nuns, and it has only ever been woman-owned. When you buy/inherit the shop, you also buy the recipe. It must be a pretty penny because that was a darn good cookie.

When it reached an appropriate time for wine, we made our way to Ambe Tour Pourret, a rather large, but rather new estate in which the matriarch of the family calls all the shots (a theme for this region). We tried 4 different wines there, all some sorts of Merlot blends, and I have to say Sideways was wrong. There are some very, very good Merlots out there. We also had a nice picnic lunch (indoors), and I finally had my first French cheese of the trip. My cheese count has been lacking so far, and I vow to fix that.

After that, we went to another estate where we learned about their wine making process and then went to their wine shop where we sampled not just their wine, but 3 other wines as well. I think we were only supposed to have 2 tastings, so 3 were a complete bonus!

Our final stop was a small family producer out in the countryside of St. Émilion. My tour compatriots were almost all Americans (except for one brave Australian woman who put up with us), and the men on the tour won our host over by playing the American Football game that was happening in Europe at the moment. That won us an extra tasting of a very, very fancy wine. I sont often think fancy wines taste better, but this one did. Or it was just the last wine I tasted that day, and even Maneschewitz would have tasted good.

When we got back, I quickly fell into bed for a nap before meeting Aminata, one of the women i met in Porto, for dinner. Having just moved to Bordeaux, Aminata didn’t know many places either, so we explored together. We found a lovely little brasserie with a courtyard, and we both ordered their special “croque”, a sandwich with sliced roasted potatoes on top (don’t knock it till you try it). Aminata was incredibly patient with me as we spoke only in French, and she helped me a ton. I am so proud of myself because I could sustain a conversation that went beyond small talk and actually converse for a few hours at a level in which I got to know a new friend all in French. We talked about travel, tv shows (she found it very funny that I knew French TV), and so many other things. Since I’ve left Bordeaux, we’ve texted a bit, and I definitely feel like I’ve made a new friend.

My last morning in Bordeaux, I grabbed a quick breakfast, including the city’s famous Cathedral, and wandered around a bit of the city I hadn’t seen yet. It was wonderfully dry, so I took my time hopping in and out of stores and meandering through the side streets before I had to catch my train to Montpellier.

I was truly sad to leave Bordeaux as I completely fell in love with it. Good news, there is affordable real estate if I decide to totally “Under The Tuscan Sun” this trip. I guess we’ll have to see!

Highs of Bordeaux and Sarlat: Everything? The food, the wine, the people, the buildings. Meeting new friends and managing to speak wholly in French. Oh, and seeing a movie directed by an actor in one of my favorite TV shows and meeting him.

Lows of Bordeaux: My crisis of confidence after returning from Sarlat.

Biggest surprises: the affordability of real estate. That and I can hold conversations in French!

* this title came from a very famous song entitled “Bordeaux”, sung by the French singer, Serge Lama