Week of 28 Janvier, 2024
Lundi
My foot has continued to give me trouble this week, though it’s been slowly improving. I’ve committed to resting it, which has been torturous with the warm, sunny weather we’ve been having. I’ve wedged myself onto our little balcony often, enjoying the fresh air while cramming French vocab.
Mardi
Today I was feeling good enough to walk to the neighborhood square, where we sipped coffee in the sunshine on a cafe terrace. I really love our neighborhood of Saint-Seurin, because it feels like a quiet little village despite being in the middle of the city. In fact, much of Bordeaux feels like this. We managed to stretch our little cups of coffee for about an hour while people-watching — a woman from a nearby restaurant walking out of the bakery, arms overflowing with dozens of baguettes. A well-dressed older gentleman staring into the butcher’s window like a kid at a candy shop. And, sadly, a cluster of people dressed in black attending a funeral at the Basilique Saint-Seurin. Life is beautiful here, but it’s still life.
After finishing our coffee, we walked across the street to the bakery for a baguette, a big sandwich to split for lunch, and three perfect little choux à la crème (cream puffs), which cost .90 each. Then we popped next door to the Italian epicerie for some fresh cacio e pepe ravioli to make for dinner. Hearing us chatting, the man working there greeted us in perfect American-accented English. He seemed surprised that we’d chosen to move to Bordeaux in the winter, but assured us that it’ll only get better from here.
Mercredi
With Oli out of school for the day, we decided to ride bikes to the Jardin Public in the morning. Todd and I sat on a bench in the sun while Oli biked laps around the big park. He seems to be stretching his wings as he gets to know the city, feeling safer and more comfortable here. Later on, walking home at dusk after dropping off a friend from a playdate, he walked far ahead of us, confidently leading the way.
I often see kids not much older than Oli riding their bikes around the city, riding the tram, or walking home from school alone. Kids just seem to have a little more freedom here than in the U.S., because it feels safer. It feels like people watch out for each other.
I remember when we would visit France over the years, and we’d see groups of school kids on outings to parks and museums, always walking in orderly little lines with just one or two teachers managing to corral all of them across busy streets to their destinations. I love that now Oli is one of those kids, coming home and telling me that they went to a nearby gymnasium or park. No advance notice, no permission slips required, no worries. He especially loved going to the gym to do yoga, because the “big kids” (i.e., his class) were each paired with a “little kid” to walk safely, hand-in-hand to get there.
It’s only his fourth week, but already he’s received his first progress report. He’s doing well, and his French teacher confirmed that he’s progressing quickly. I only wish that I could learn French as easily as he will. Too often, I still have those deer-in-headlights moments when someone says something to me off-script and I have no idea how to respond. Still, I’m surprised at how often people switch to English once they realize we’re American. It’s lovely to be able to chat with people in our native tongue for a few minutes, but it’s also slowing our progress when we’re not being pushed to try.
Vendredi
Friday was La Chandeleur, a very French holiday revolving around crepes. I’ll let you Google it because it’s hard to explain… it’s kind of religious, kind of superstitious (a little stitious, sorry, Office humor), and sort of like Groundhog’s Day. The afternoon prior, the APEL (basically PTA) at Oli’s school held a little crepe sale after school, which was very sweet and very French.
Samedi
Feeling antsy, we rented a car and drove two hours north to La Rochelle, which has been a significant port city in France since the 12th century. From its 14th-century towers guarding the harbor to medieval half-timbered homes and Renaissance buildings, the town is chock-full of fascinating history.
We arrived at lunchtime and were lucky to snag the last table at a restaurant facing the harbor. There we had a very French lunch — long and leisurely, with multiple courses featuring local ingredients, and plenty of wine to wash it down. La formule, or le menu du jour, is a prix-fixe menu that lets you choose a main course with a starter (entree) and/or dessert, all for a set price. I had oysters and sea bass, Todd had a seafood stew followed by tuna, and we all had dessert. Many restaurants also have a formule for kids — at this one, Oli chose the mussels with fries, a drink, and two scoops of ice cream for 10€. (And yes, they do usually have more typically kid-friendly dishes like chicken fingers and burgers.) The grand total for our feast was less than 100€, which felt like a bargain given the exceptional quality of the food.
After lunch, we walked through the town, ducking into shops and galleries, before checking into our hotel. We stayed at Hotel Le Champlain, a former convent that was converted into a hotel in the 1940s. Our room felt quite grand, with high ceilings and a view over the courtyard, and a big bathtub that was just what I needed after wandering around in the cold for hours. We weren’t hungry for dinner until late, and were disappointed to find most of the town shutting down around 9 p.m. We ended the day with a forgettable room service meal while watching Lego Masters in French.
Dimanche
On Sunday morning, we packed up and drove across the bridge to Ile de Re, a small island that’s swarmed with vacationing Parisians in the warmer months. On a cold February Sunday, it was mostly deserted, though charming, and we enjoyed a few hours of hopping between its villages, three of which have been officially designated as among the most beautiful in France. After picking up crepes at a little farmer’s market, which we ate in a park, Oli started to get whiny, and I thought about how funny it is that he’s being given a childhood in which epic cathedrals and medieval villages seem boring. So we went to the beach, and he spent a joyful hour tossing shells into the waves before getting entirely too wet and being bundled back into the car to change before the drive back to Bordeaux.
