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| The drive from La Rochelle to Bordeaux - |
Just as I finished the first sentence of this post, I heard a rumble above me. Water then started to pour out from behind the service panel on the ceiling near the front door and onto the carpet. The bloke doing some maintenance in the room across the hallway was working and it would seem broke a pipe. How fitting that as soon as I decide that there are no more fires to extinguish from the daily work duties that the dripping ceiling prevents me, albeit briefly, from writing this blog post.
Over the last week, I have exchanged e-mails about my disappointing stay at the Dieppe Mercure with its management. Supposedly they offered me an apology and 10% off my tariff for the inconvenience. That is fake news since I prepaid for that accommodation a month prior and no refund was ever issued let alone offered and nobody ever apologised. I believe they put it in the too hard basket as is my time out experiencing Europe really worth carrying on over what is a perceived 10€ refund? Je pense que non!
Before leaving the Ibis La Rochelle Centre Historique on Sunday, we visited the La Rochelle Bunker (Museum) around the corner. It was built by the Germans in 1941 after La Rochelle was occupied in World War II and remains intact. Despite the mannequins that are posing, which attempt to paint a picture of what life was like for the young German men who spent limited days in the war on submarines, you get a sense of the relief felt after they survived their time at the sea. The frescoes painted on the walls, ceilings and objects add a bit of levity; painted by two female Hamburg artists that were commissioned randomly by the local area command. To top it off, a small (non-working) bar occupies pride and place of this bunker, which along with the wartime relics, really captures what life was like during the occupation, at least for the Germans.
Upon leaving the Ibis, I reflected that it was a good value for money considering the location. It is a no-frills hotel and I felt no desire at any point to eat in the restaurant or drink in the bar. With so many options in the area, why would you? The air conditioning worked well and since I only needed to work one day inside the room, it never became too claustrophobic.
The drive to Bordeaux was uneventful and a fair amount of time was spent on the expressway where you can drive 130km/hr. With the windows down and my back and shirt saturated with sweat, the drive quickly became tedious and I found myself pressing harder on the accelerator if only to get down the road quicker. My goal is to get the air conditioning in the car fixed whilst in Bordeaux, if only not to bore the reader of this blog to death with my constant complaining.
We rocked up at the Pullman Hotel nearly two hours before the check-in time, in part due to my heavy foot. They were happy to check us in and also take a 500€ deposit for incidentals. I thought that was excessive but I learned the convenience of the restaurant, if not to just work but also enjoy a glass or two of wine would be just too tempting over the time that I have spent here so the deposit is justified. The hotel is next to the lake (Bordeaux-Lac) and there is a tram stop outside which makes life somewhat convenient.
With both of the ticket machines malfunctioning at the tram stop, in a huff, I proclaimed that we would drive the hot stuffy car to the centre of the city. I found free parking on the street (it was Sunday) near the beautiful Monument aux Girondins where the local skaters were practising their craft. We followed the awesome landmarks onto Rue de Sainte-Catherine which is a very long pedestrianised street bordered by shops. Toward the end of the walk, it gets a bit dodgy and we decided on an alternative path back first stopping at a tram stop, where the ticket machine was actually working. We were able to procure ten-use tickets that would be good for a week. Our ramble took us past the Cathedrale Saint-Andre Bordeaux which dates back to the 11th century and the Bordeaux Town Hall. After 16,000 steps, exhausted and sweaty, we drove back to the Pullman, enjoyed a much needed cold shower and retreated to the hotel bar for some much-needed wine and cheese.
On Monday, a mate from Australia flew in to see me. He was keen to watch France play Belgium in World Cup final and catch up with me as an aside. He really has far too much money and time on his hands. After a long day of tapping away in the restaurant, we set off on the tram and not long after we had found chairs outside of a brasserie near the iconic gateway to the city, Porte de Bourgogne. We spent hours there gossiping and people watching before wandering around the beguiling city. More drinks were enjoyed as we crawled through the ancient streets and laneways. I consulted the pages of the Michelin guide that I had stored on my phone but all the recommended restaurants were closed. We popped into a Turkish-inspired restaurant. I was keen to drink more wine and when my mate thought that I should drink water instead, I am told I tossed it over my shoulder because I am "allergic" which entertained him to no end. I was later told that I enjoyed the food and the trip back to the Pullman was swift in an Uber. I didn't pay for it so I don't feel any guilt about having a problem with my memory from that drunken night.
In a sketchy state, I performed my multiple morning video conference calls and pushed e-mails, eventually going to the hotel restaurant at midday to catch up with my Sydney mate. Sadly, I could not abandon my professional duties until late in the afternoon which is once again when we caught the tram and headed to Quinconces in the centre of town. We enjoyed a few drinks near the River Garonne again before checking out the 17th century Notre Dame. This Jesuit-styled church was filled with art which included a small room which you can pay to get into that had what I would assume to be more ornate or celebrated pieces on display, but sadly they were locking that door as we stumbled in. Spitting distance from the church was Maruya restaurant. I did some research on French-inspired Japanese restaurants and this place kept getting mentioned. It turned out to be a very good value six-source degustation and along with a spicy tuna roll and a few beers cost a cool 139€ which I thought was a bargain.
With the World Cup match between France and Belgium taking place, we ambled to Place Gambetta. The brasseries all had televisions showing it and only a few minutes after we arrived, France scored the only goal of the match. The crowd, of course, loved it and the already festive atmosphere only became louder and more cheerful. We found seats and watched the celebration which poured into the streets into the early hours of the morning after the French won. Swarms of revellers swarmed cars on the roads, climbed on top of the bus stop, caught a free ride on the back of the rubbish truck and generally went crazy. One bloke caught out of his own car, stripped down and stood on the vehicle roof and shouted his support for France, which really got the crowd going long into the night. As we always had a beer in hand, when my alarm woke me up the next day, I wanted to do anything but look at my laptop and do more video conference calls. I was tired and wrecked but it was a great and memorable night.
Thursday was all a bit of a wash and repeat, but this time it involved watching England lose against Croatia which made me circumspect. We happened into the oldest wine shop in Bordeaux in the Place du Parlement called Cousin et Compagnie. We did a tasting with the lovely shop attendant. She gave me some recommendations as to what Chateaux to visit in the Medoc region via motorcar. Having inside knowledge is key as the last thing I wanted to do was some canned tour on a bus with obnoxious tourists. We also randomly came across what seems to be a new tapas bar called Le Wooosh. Some very nice craft Ultra-IPA lubricated us before the inevitable loss where the brasserie turned into a nightclub of sorts. We continued to another tapas bar and enjoyed a plate of Jamon, a few more beers and then called it quits and retreated back to the Pullman via tram.
After a brief excursion, my mate from Sydney headed out and nearly missed his plane after procrastinating. I took the twink to the laverie with all of our dirty clothes and he sorted them out whilst I performed on my last conference call for the day. When I ended that call, I looked around this hotel room and enjoyed the silence for a brief minute and that is when I thought I would write this blog post. Remember the rumble in the ceiling and when the water started pouring in? Well, that was yesterday afternoon and I had the intention of at least writing this.
En route to pick up the twink who I found on the street holding the bag of clean clothes like Santa would his cache of presents, I drove past "garages" that looked suspiciously like they would repair a motorcar. Having been fobbed off by Mercedes earlier in the week telling me in perfect written French that they can not service by vehicle for two weeks, I wanted to make some additional queries. We turned up at one of the garages. Nobody spoke a word of English but my limited broken French got a result. They couldn't deal with my air conditioning but suggested who could and pointed me in the right direction. I turned up at that place, however, trying to make an appointment to have the vehicle repaired turned into a challenge because the car isn't registered in France. The paperwork? Who cares, I need the air conditioning fixed. I discovered this was a chain of auto parts stores - car repair franchises, I found another location out near the airport. Strategically, I created an account online and was able to book the air conditioning service at Norauto Merignac near the airport. I input a fake number plate when I registered online and just added a note that the car is from England and the accurate plate number. Upon presenting myself, everything was d'accord and because I paid online, within 90 minutes I had my key back and the air conditioning working yet again. Even the traffic back to Bordeaux-Lac couldn't wipe the smile from my face as, like Santa lived in, I turned the interior of the Benz into frosty wintery conditions. We will be able to visit the Chateaux in Medoc that was recommended by the lovely lady in the wine shop in full comfort now. Life is good. However, it is now time to check out of the hotel and leave this wonderful city behind for now. Five nights in Bordeaux were not enough and I will certainly be back. Maybe even on this roadtrip. Who knows?
