Curious about why there are international travel posts on my American blog? Start here.

Whatever angst I had about my day in Madrid was washed away in Bordeaux. When I landed the fog was so thick I couldn’t see the airport control tower from the bus stop. Determined not to fail at navigating my way to my Airbnb, I over-prepared and researched the bus lines from the airport and opted for two full-day passes. First of all, the Bordeaux transit system is impeccable, TBM (Train, Boat, Metro) works flawlessly and makes it nearly impossible to get lost, even if you don’t speak the language. My Airbnb host, Alexia, allowed me to drop my bag off until she could let me in later in the day. Feeling physically worn down from the quick turns in and out of Madrid and the sheer volume of mileage I’d accrued (27.8 miles walked in 5 days - 24 hours of which were travel time), I opted to start my day in a cafe for a few hours before venturing out. Alexia recommended an adorable cafe that she hadn’t yet been to, Juliena. The environment was lovely, the music was all of my favorites from the end of high school and early college, and I was having a lovely time. So lovely that I’m not going to dedicate any portion of this recap to telling you about the only person to be rude to me during my entire stay in Bordeaux.

After lunch, I was ready to start walking around. I was heading nowhere in particular when a young man crossing the street smiled at me and said, “Pardonnez-moi, can you help me?” before I could say no (as, presumably, I could not help him), he said, “I’m looking for the sun, have you seen it?” Because of his thick French accent I couldn’t tell if he was attempting a joke or just being very socially awkward. As had become tradition, I amused him and allowed him to walk with me. His name was Omar (same as my very lovely Airbnb host in Madrid), he’d just graduated with his business degree the week prior and was trying to decide what was next. In his free time, he comes into Bordeaux from his home near Toulouse to wander the streets practicing his language with English-speaking tourists. He pitched me a job offer, helping him sell a Moroccan oil in America. I politely declined but assured him his English was impeccable and he’d do just fine exploring the Western hemisphere. We bid each other adieu at the TBM exchange.

I continued exploring and came across the buzzing Rue Sainte-Catherine - a series of pedestrian streets lined with restaurants, cafes, and over-priced boutiques. I meandered out of the hubbub down to the riverfront in hopes of catching free WiFi to make my next decision. While leaning against a wall, another young man approached me and, in French worse than mine, tried to ask me to take his picture. I asked if he spoke English and his reaction was as if it were the best news he’d received all day. Armand was visiting Bordeaux for the day from Arbonne where he worked as a hotel manager. He’d been in France for three months and, the Netherlands for three before that, and shared he felt more comfortable with Dutch than French. So, off we went exploring and speaking English. It wasn’t too long into our journey I realized, despite his insistence otherwise, that his English wasn’t spectacular either. He insisted on venturing in directions I’d already explored, despite my assurance that where he thought he was on his many paper maps was, in fact, several kilometers south of where we actually were. Frustratingly, we ended up walking the exact route I’d traversed with Omar two hours earlier. I was tired and cold and really just wanted to sit down and eat something. Once I got him on the same page about eating, we found ourselves on Rue Sainte-Catherine again. I was recommending one of the cafes I’d walked past earlier when Armand requested McDonald’s, suggesting it was a better option than any of the local establishments. [Insert: black-eye-inducing facepalm.] I sat down while he ordered his fries and started devising a plan to find a way out of this sojourn. Thankfully, he did not want to sit and eat so we kept walking. I spied a cathedral and suggested we go take a look at it. That’s when he realized what time it was and that he had a long way to go to catch the train. I was able to gracefully head in the opposite direction back to Alexia’s.

Again, thoroughly exhausted after walking 12 miles in my boots on cobbled streets, I resumed my Spanish tradition of the siesta. By the time I woke up, it was dark and raining. I set out in search of dinner and picked a local place with decent reviews that Google claimed was open. A mile later, I arrived to find out they only serve aperitifs on Monday evenings, no dinner. I was feeling pretty defeated because nearly every place I walked past on the way down there was closed* - and not in the will-open-later-tonight Spanish way. I started walking back towards Alexia’s and followed the fragrances in the air to Ankara, a little kebab shop where the proprietor overloaded my plate and recommended the corner market across the street to grab a bottle of Bordeaux wine. I caught Alexia off guard by returning so quickly, but we had a lovely evening of watching trashy French reality dating shows. I figured I’d just watched Black Panther in Spanish the night before, I could make it through a few episodes of American-style French TV.

*I should point out, there were a handful of open restaurants but they were Italian, English, and every variety of Asian. I’d made a rule that in any given country I was not going to eat food from a country I was later planning to visit or had already visited unless I was completely out of options.

I let myself sleep late to recover from the drastic weather changes and because I felt my body starting to fight back against me in the form of a sore throat. Side note: in the months before heading to Europe, world news reports where overrun with statistics about how Europe is experiencing the highest rates of the flu in history. Well, it’s because NO ONE COVERS THEIR MOUTH!! I thought this was a fluke the first time I saw it, but it never ended. Through every airport, bus terminal, train station, and subway people were just opened mouth coughing and sneezing Ev. Er. Y. Wherrrrre. (Thankfully, I never suffered more than a mild head cold.)

Despite everything I just said, I decided public transit was the best way to get around the city because the temperature had dropped further and I needed to be off my feet. I started my afternoon at La Cité du Vin, a museum I was hesitant about paying for but ended up being totally worth it. This project took years to complete and touts itself as the world’s authority on everything wine. Due to my years in food service, I’m comfortable with wine, but the amount of information I learned caught me pleasantly by surprise. Not to mention, it was the most high-tech museum experience I have ever had. I highly recommend checking it out. (Also, because it would’ve been just another day otherwise, I met an older couple from Durham, NC on the elevator as we were leaving the museum.)

What I expected to be 1-1.5 hours spent at the museum turned into 3. It would soon be dark but I really wanted to get across the Garonne river to experience Darwin Ecosysteme. Described as a “full-scale innovation crucible”, Darwin features co-working space, grocery, a restaurant, a skate park, and never ending art installations. Not only was I taken aback by every inch of the space, the sun came out for the first time and right at golden hour! The space was equal parts spectacular and thought-provoking. Unfortunately, there was no WiFi to be found, but as I mentioned earlier, the TBM is exceptional and I made my way back to the left bank without a problem.

I popped into Le Bistrot du Fromager, an adorable establishment owned by two young guys whose passion for cheese and wine is almost as deep as their passion for hospitality. I sat and enjoyed cheese, charcuterie, and a red Bordeaux for my final meal in the eponymous town. As I was on my way back to Alexia’s I was able grab some great night shots of the sights I’d seen the previous day because the clouds had finally lifted. I had a lovely peaceful walk along the Garrone and realized, in my second time traversing the river that day, Bordeaux was the first place I’d seen people consistently exercising. People of all ages, yes, including children, take advantage of the wide pedestrian-friendly thoroughfares along the Quai to run at all hours of the day. It was really refreshing to see and helped me understand how, in a place where every other person carries a baguette, they all stay so fit!