Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Chapter 14teen: Aquitaine and the Norwegians

Aquitaine and the Norwegians


From Biarritz we headed north, stopping for only a few hours in Bordeaux, then on to our next destination near Pugnac, a small village in the Bordeaux wine region of Blaye.

Bordeaux is another magnificent French city of grandeur. There is so much to be experienced in this majestic centre that we felt a little like hitchhikers, just passing through without taking the time to stop before our next ride on down the highway. As with Toulouse, however, we only lunched in Bordeaux, then burned off calories from the mid-day meal with a good walk around town. 


Miroir d'Eau, Gironde Waterfront Redevelopment Project, across fro, Place de la Bourse










We picked up the Tourist Office map and did a three-hour self-guided tourist walk, getting a glimpse of some very historic architecture, monuments, and innovative city landscapes.

One may wonder why I would choose Miroir d'Eau (photo above), with which to stamp my post of Bordeaux.  One reason is that, while I have several shots of the old stuff, they can all be seen online elsewhere. The photo captures what France represents to us - inspirational people places that have been commissioned by local municipal leaders, created and engineered by very innovative people, all of whom have collaborated to provide interesting, safe and communal playgrounds right in the middle of their cities.

This "water park" is about a hectare or so of smooth cement surface that is at one moment a thin surface of water, then it drains and becomes a field of drifting mist, then vertical jets of water. I wanted to stay to see all its transformations, to play in it, and to see its marvels, also when lit in the dark. Maybe in another lifetime.


Our Chambre d'Hôtes, situated by a crossroad of farms and vineyards, is owned and operated by the Fitzgeralds. It was a comfortable, colourful and cozy home-away-from-home


Sometimes we get really, really lucky and find such a bright and cheery B&B. One cannot compare a quiet and peaceful place like this to an accommodation in a city. Thank you Sarah and Patrick.




The wisteria was in its final days of bloom.













We did a day trip to Saint-Émilion, parking our car in a lay-by at the western edge of the city on Avenue du 8 Mai 1945

Saint-Émilion is an appellation,  bijoux (jewel) among the Bordeaux vintages.  The town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, as interesting as any we have seen in the old world. But if one is not there for the wine, well ...  I felt like the American redneck who took a wrong turn on the way to Hollywood, and ended up on Rodeo Drive (LA). Rather in-your-face wine merchants confronted us with over-priced wines. We both felt that, were we driving a Porsche rather than a Peugeot 308, we might have bought a few bottles.


Saint-Émilion

It is indisputable that the wines here are world-class. This is a mecca for wine connoisseurs, aficionados, sommeliers, would-be's, and wanna-be's, but we were not here as buyers, or even tasters. We were close by, curious, interested in the old city as a UNESCO site, and hungry for a meal in Place du Clocher. 


Lost in translation: the highlight of day-tripping in Saint-Émilion was engaging with our table-mates. Actually, Joanne was my only table-mate, but remember, this is France, so there being elbow-room only, even out in the square, one is rubbing elbows with your neighbouring tables - hence table-mates. (See Chapter 4).

On both sides of us were Norwegian tourists, unknown to each other. I tried to ignore them, as one tends to do in very close quarters in Europe because of the need for privacy. But I could not resist, and Joanne did egg me on.

I can speak one or two consecutive sentences in Norsk - with a flawless accent because the dialects are so varied up there that one fjord tongue does not know exactly what the next fjord tongue sounds like anyway.

The mayor of a small town and her boyfriend from somewhere north of Oslo was at our eastern elbow. At our west elbow, was a semi-retired fisher couple from the south coast. I introduced one table to the other.

They had no French, which I have some of, so I was the tri-language translator. Their biggest surprise came rather soon when I ran out of Norwegian vocabulary and they learned that I was not really from Stavanger, but from Canada.

Ole on my right and Sven on my left were at first confused, but then Joanne explained that my father had emigrated to Canada, I had become a Norwegian sailor, then we all laughed - in both languages.




We drove back to the B&B for an aperatif in the farm field, then closed the farm gate after our twilight dinner of vin rouge, fromage, pâte  de foie gras, saucisson de sanglier, and cornichons in the setting sun.



In the ancient French bedroom that night I related how often we have stumbled upon travelling Norwegians, (and even Swedes, hah), on this trip, and how I could not stop myself from prattling on with them, and how taken aback, how surprised they are when they hear me (try to) speak their language.

"Well, not many people other than Norwegians speak Norwegian you know. Why would they?

I have a wifi connection for my iPad. Please go to sleep."


Dinner Recommendation: La Popote, Pugnac. When she handed us the menu, the server said, "Everything here is for sale." 









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2 comments:

  1. I could just see it, you and the Norwegians.. You are such fun to travel with, Gary as i remember from many years ago. Love the picture of you Joanne in that beautiful bed, feeling right at home. You two are super, as the french say. I have read Bordeaux is one of France's most beautiful cities and very livable. Love the water park in the centre.

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  2. And the typical Gary picture? Joanne in the bed! That is such a cool picture! Needs to be framed and go into your bedroom!

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