Day 16, Saturday, Bordeaux

We slept in this morning. It was a combination of fatigue, the one hour time change, no deadline for breakfast, and the almost absolute silence in the apartment. I opened one of the double glazed windows facing the street and the sudden entry of the sounds from the street outside was like turning on a radio. People’s voices, motor scooters etc. It was busy at 9am on a Saturday.

Nowhere in France is far from a pharmacy.

Still life with remote, fruit, artificial vegetables and washing. Anne had bought the exotic flattish apples, and discovered they were nectarines.

We walked around the corner and found a market was running in the Place Meynard.

One cafe was strangely unpatronised. Was there a boycott by the locals? Was it expensive? Hours later it was busy, but only with tourists.

I noticed that my photochromatic spectacles were not going far too dark, as they had in the UK. They do that at home in winter too. I’d been meaning to swap them for the spare normal ones I brought with me. Now I don’t need to. There must be more UV in the winter, or further north, or in cloudier weather. They were always OK in the car, with glass to stop the UV.

After wandering around the market we found the Basilique Saint Michel open. I wasn’t keen on seeing yet another cathedral, but Anne said we should, since we were there. It turned out to be quite extraordinary.

We counted 9 varieties of chairs in this group.

Most stained glass in the Basilica is circa 1963. Originals were probably blown out in the hurricanes that heavily damaged the bell tower nearby. It’s hard to get a good photo of windows with the iphone, they are just too bright and washed out. The HDR function doesn’t help when the subject of the photo is the brightest part. I guess I need a filter.

The carving atop the pulpit is St Michel slaying a dragon.

Then I paid €5 to climb the 228 steps to the base of the spire in the Fleche Saint Michel, and to see the crypt. Coming down the helical staircase made me stagger drunkenly when I stepped out into Place Meynard. The Spire was very badly damaged by a hurricane on 8 September 1768, exactly 250 years ago today.

Looking up into the spire from the observation deck

View of central Bordeaux and the Garonne River.

All this was within about 150m of our apartment. When I returned, I climbed the 39 steps and, inadvertantly, 20 extra steps, opened the apartment door, and Anne wasn’t there. I looked around, then realised this wasn’t our apartment! It was the other rental apartment, one floor above, unoccupied.

Then we decided to walk to the Musee des Beaux Artes, and reached Rue de Catherine, a pedestrian-only shopping street which runs from the Porte d’Aquitaine here:

For about 2km dead straight like this, on a busy Saturday afternoon.

To the Place de la Comedie. By appearances, the shop rents increase in the same direction. Note green pharmacy sign at left.

At the Musee there were many paintings we had never seen before. I like Pieter Brueghel (elder and younger), but no photos allowed, so I bought the postcard of the Younger’s “The Wedding Dance”.

While buying it, I noticed there were postcards of paintings we hadn’t seen. I asked, and learned that we had not been into the North wing of the gallery, a separate building. It contained the 19th century art, much more interesting to us. A good collection.

Then, back to the apartment to start writing this, stopping on Rue Sainte Catherine for an ice cream.

We bought AUD25 worth of frozen yoghurt instead. We’re on holiday.

Up till now on this trip, I’ve been eating too much. Eggs for breakfast instead of just cereal, lunch most days, eating what Anne can’t finish at dinner etc. I wasn’t ever hungry, and missed it. So today, I indulged myself, ate just one nectarine for breakfast, skipped lunch, and I’m looking forward to dinner. But then there was that apricot pastry at the patisserie, and the yoghurt just now…

At about 8pm, around the corner for a pizza. I really was hungry, and ordered a Prosciutto e Funghi, the closest I could see to a Capricciosa. Anne wanted vegetarian, and settled for a Cheesus Christ, with 4 varieties of cheese. In the shadow of the Basilica, Anne didn’t want to utter the blasphemy and pointed to the menu. The waiter didn’t repeat the order either.

The market was here this morning. We noticed that very few people smoke here except, of course, the people at the next table.

Being in France reminds us again why it is our favourite country after Australia. There is endless variety in the different regions of their abundant and beautiful country, but the French just seem to have found a great way to live.