Bordeaux, France

I spent a pleasant weekend in the south of France, spending time with a friend who is studying there. Bordeaux is a cute city with not much to do, but it is very French. I barely heard any English the whole time I was there (as opposed to in Granada, where I can't seem to escape English).

Thursday night, I got in late, and missed the time slot I was supposed to meet my friend. When I got to the location (which I think actually I got wrong, too) she was no where in sight. I had her address and phone number, and I was just sort of wandering around looking for a pay phone or a taxi. I had my head phones on, and I like to think I didn't look lost, because I had no destination in particular, and in fact, I was headed toward the Cathedral, where it looked more populated, increasing my chances of finding above mentioned items. I walked past a French couple, minding my own business, but I heard them say something. I turned back, not wanting to be impolite in case they were talking to me, and it turns out they were. Great, I thought to myself, this should be good. I knew how to count to ten in French, but I didn't think that would be very helpful in a conversation. The women asked me something in French. I stared at them, helplessly. The man (in French, I understood enough of what he said to get the gist)asked me if I speak French. I said no, I speak Spanish. It turned out the women spoke Spanish too, so that worked out well. I'm not exactly sure why they stopped me in the first place, but once they figuered out I was meeting my friend, and was just looking for a cab, the women offered me the use of her phone, I talked to my friend, she talked to my friend, and then I ended up following them a few blocks until we met up with her. So, my frist experience with French people, not at all stereotypically rude.

Once I found my friend, we enjoyed a quite dinner in a real French resturant, which was cool. I had a first coarse of clams (amazing), a second coarse of some wierd chicken thing that wasn't as good, and a traditional French dessert of creme brule. Good times.

Friday my friend had class, so I basically wandered around the city. I learned how to say "I don't speak French" (in French) which I used several times that day, and no one looked at me dirty. In the early afternoon I happened across a large outdoor antique market. I bet I wandered around there for 2 hours, looking in all the little stands for hundred year old copies of French classics and rock records from the 60s and 70s. I was unsuccessfull on both accounts. Something I found entertaining wandering during the lunch hour: the owners of the stands would throw a table cloth over an antique table that was probably for sale, and enjoy a real sit down meal, family style, complete with at least one bottle of wine.

Friday night my friends roommate and her roommate's boyfriend made us real Chinese food. It was delicious. And now I can say I have eaten pig's heart.

Saturday we did some more city exploring, taking pictures and just enjoying French culture. We cooked some Italian food for her roomates that night.

Sunday morning we headed out early (like 10:30!) to take a walk through the weekly outdoor market, where they sell everything from seafood to fruit to pastries. In the evening we enjoyed a meal at a Thai resturant, and then walked down to the river to get good night pictures. As luck would have it, we were in time to see, just off to our right over a bridge, a well choreographed fireworks show (set to music we were just barely close enough to hear), worthy of the 4th of July. As we watched, we glanced of to our left and were able to witness a wonderous lightning storm. We barely managed to make it back to the house before the storm reached the city, shaking to window panes with thunderous blasts and pounding the roof with rain.

I realized that every preconception I had about France and the French people comes from the Victor Hugo novel Les Misérables. Most of these preconceptions focused on architecture and political activism, and I was not disappointed by either in Bordeaux. The buildings seem to come straight out of the novel, and as I walked past cafés with classy Frech students leaning casually back in their seats, smoking their cigarettes, it was easy to imagine them a century earlier, planning a revolt in the streets of Paris. My friend assured me that there aren't very many armed revolts these days, but it is easy to see that the people are still very active.

I headed out early on Monday, spent over 14 hours traveling, and made it back to Granada in time to play with the kids for an hour before bed time. Then I spent the couple hours before my bedtime mentally preparing for finals. Today was my last official day of class!