Category: REFLECTIONS

Bergerac. 90 minutes outside of Bordeaux, we return to this somewhat sleepy little medieval town, revisiting an AirB&B near the Dordonne River. The heatwave has broken, the days are a slightly humid 70s, and our friend, rain, has come to see us again. Despite the cobblestone streets, buildings made of brick and mortar in centuries old styles, there is internet and cable to keep us entertained inside and connected to the rest of the world. What’s interesting is that on Sunday, many businesses are closed, and Monday is largely the same. Luckily, we stocked up on food, and had the great fortune to find one of the three Indian/Pakistani restaurants in the area open. We are in the old centre Bergerac, near the old bridge (that’s what the locals call it) crosses the Dordogne River. We walked across the bridge to find an even sleepier town on the other side. The bridge is adorned with bronze plates like this one with fleur de lis and dragons, and offers a very chill place to kick up your heels and take a snooze.

We decided to rent a car to do a little exploring. In theory, when I made the reservation, it seemed pretty easy. My email confirmation gave the location. Pick up the car at the train station. My expectation was to see a reception desk, office, or even a person with an AVIS sticker in the window. Not four lock boxes and a place to deposit keys to return the keys. We called AVIS, with the trepidation that someone would talk at us rapid fire French. Fortunately, between Paul’s French and their English, we were able to sort things out. We never had to see anyone. After emailing proof of i.d., we were given the key codes to a lockbox and a rental contract! Now to find the car. We had a description and the person on the phone did not know where in the parking lot, the car was left. We started methodically combing the parking lot, when the skies opened up. Raining ropes, as the French say. As we clicked the keys to set off the headllights, and find the car, it really started to pour. Yup, the car was at the very far end of the parking lot. We were soaked through, but managed to find our little Clio. Now parking the car was another story. In our end of town, there are a few parking spaces and payment can be up to 30 euros for 8 hours. So you can drive out along the quai and look for a spot, or drive out to a free lot about a 10 minute walk away. Thank goodness, it stopped raining by the time we got to the parking lot, which doubles as the the city’s tribute to community leaders of the past.

Just steps away from our apartment in Bergerac is the Dordonha Museum. It houses both an incredible bronze sculptures gallery by Costi and a history of Bergerac display. A Greek student in Paris, Costi took note of the works by Rodin and Bourdelle, embracing a classical style of sculture, but with more modern stances. I was surprised how close together the pieces were displayed but also so accessible. Unlike many museums I’ve been to, everything was so close, uncovered.. Honestly, this was one of the best sculture displays I think I’ve ever seen.

Going back thousands of years, Bergerac has had a vibrant history along the Dordogne River, which brought trade, slaves, religion and more to the area. Boats on this river needed to be flat-bottomed, and sails trimmed in such a way to best harness the wind. The town was dominated by Catholicism at one time, then Protestants took over, but it then reverted back to Catholicism. The French and English struggled for control.

The Bergerac crest includes the symbol of fleur de lis and a dragon. According to legend, a gigantic winged reptile with a huge mouth, horns, ears and claws, drank out of the Dordogne River, its tail reached the top of the Couze cliff. It attacked people and cattle, abducting them to devour them in its cave.

Legend says that the dragon’s colossal force is behind the creation of the dangerous passage known as the Saut de la Gratusse, where whirlpools and strong currents led many a sailor to his untimely death. The Bishop of Périgueux, Saint Front, saved Bergerac’s inhabitants by traveling up the cliff to confront the creature and chase it away with the cross.

One section of the musuem discussed the different building architectual styles in Bergerac. In order to keep the character of the medieval town, any changes to the exterior must stay in line with the period it was created. Windows, shutters, doors, roofing, etc. all must be approved and retain the style in which it was created. I can only imagine that there must be many artisans that are trained in how to restore all these styles. Very cool museum.

Our friends, Matt and Asli, came down for the day from Bordeaux. We chose to explore the middle of town, which included France’s only museum dedicated to tobacco. The Tobacco Museum was created in 1950 in a renovated 17th century mansion. The museum covers the history of tobacco farming and trade, the equipment used for harvesting and drying, and preparation for cigars, cigarettes and snuff. The importance of tobacco in different cultures is also covered, from being something used for religious and medicinal purposes, to its prevalence as a social activity or a quick buzz. There is also a whole floor dedicated to pipes, smoker’s tools from around the world, and the machines used to create them. From intricate ivory carvings to corn cob pipes, storage vessels for tobacco to decorative snuff boxes, the artisans engaged in this form of artwork had great imaginations. Honestly, some of the pipes were damn ugly and scary looking, while others were telling stories of heroes and beauty.

Chateau de Tiregand, is a castle whose history goes back to the 13th century. While its changed hands several times, even through the French Revolution, it endures as two properties, one is the castle, and one houses the wine tasting rooms. The castle has been partially restored and now hosts a self-guided puzzle solving tour, in the tradition of the fictional French character, Aresene Lupin. Lupin is considered a ‘gentleman thief’ and a master of disguise, While a burglar, he is characterized as a man for good. More on Lupin in a separate Ponderings. The four of us went through the several floors and rooms solving puzzles throughout, which were necessarily at times to make it into another room. It was great fun and an unusual way to see a chateau.

Eglise Notre Dame in Bergerac (it seems every town in France has at least one church with the name Notre Dame)is actually a very large church in the center of town. Among the many churches, I’ve seen in France, this has to be among the most impressive. It captures the sunlight so beautifully and the stained glass cast gorgeous colors across the floor. Twice a week, around the outside of the perimeter of the church is the town’s open air farmers market.

Between the largest juiciest tomatoes, long cucumbers and sweet berries, you’ll find honey vendors, fresh flowers, eggs, and an accordion player or two. You’ll hear friends call out to each other with their baskets full of their purchases, pushing bikes with baskets, pulling their shopping trolleys. You don’t really get to pick through the vegetables and fruit – its kind of like bad manners. Vendors will hand you a plastic basket to collect the items you want quickly, weigh them quickly and you pay with cash or card. Berries are pre-boxed, and they just pluck what is closest to them and sell you that basket. What is a little different is that you can buy just one stalk of celery or one leek. You respect the farmer and vendor, trusting that everything they are selling is good quality. You can tell those vendors with long lines have either great quality or cheap prices.

I think the idea is that one buys often, buys fresh, so just buy what you need. Refrigerators are not large, and freezers are tiny. Clearly not Costco kind of thinking. BTW, there are only two Costcos in France, and they are just outside of Paris. Per some bloggers, the French Costco does honor American cards and yes, they also have 1.50 euro hotdogs and an optical department.

Sarlat. We did a quick day trip. About an hour by train from Bergerac is another medieval town called Sarlat. The train station is on the far end of town, so we had about a 3/4 mile walk up the hill. Much larger than Bergerac, the streets are narrow, cobblestones. We arrived at the height of farmers market on a Saturday; bread, cheese, sausages, fancy olives, fruits and vegetables, clothes, dried fruits and nuts, wood carvings, nut crackers, and more on every corner. People have written about how crowded it gets during festival time and that it was useless to try to park a car.

This was an ordinary Saturday, and it was packed. A narrow passage or the church is the way to get away from people. We stopped to grab lunch at a bistro and the staff sized us up and handed us english menus before we could speak. Another tourist busy day for them. My tummy has felt off for the last few days, so I thought I’d take it easy and get an omelet. A porchinni mushroom omelet, that will be lasting as a food memory. Creamy eggs, generous amount of buttery and flavorful mushrooms. (Sigh)

We popped into the St. Sacerdos Cathedral. This amazing building was built back in the 14th century, and has that solid feeling that it has lasted a long time and will endure long after we are gone. I’ve seen a lot of churches now in France and they do start to blur a bit, but there are some that stand out. This one had side chambers, dedicated to specific entities: St. Bernadette, St. Teresa, St. Genevieve, St. Catherine, Holy Mother Mary, Gabriel the angel, Joseph, etc. (apologies if I’m calling them out with the right respectful titles). We a lit a candle in remembrance of our parents. A lovely day trip.

Our short ‘vacanes’ (vacation) was interrupted a day early by notice that the SCNF (national rail service) was going to have a strike, which would impact our ability to get back to Bordeaux, so we hopped on the next available train back.

Knowing that Bordeaux is our French hometown, coming back seemed different this time. We hung out waiting for our haircuts with Said, who is always running behind and a little distracted unless he has his mood music. We have come to expect this and recently met one of his other regular customers ( or cousin?) who lamented the same. It was actually kind of funny in our Franglish to talk about how much we love his haircuts, but there is a price…but Said always greets us with a smile and a handshake. And then there is the Kapital Kabob.

Bordeaux has a large North African immigrant community, largely Moroccan and Algerian, and the kebab/shawarma tradition is deeply embedded in the local food culture. One of our most frequented food stops has to be Kapital Kabob. Imagine a 12″ circle wrap (like a tortilla) called a buckwheat galette. Inside is a mix of lettuce, tomatoes, olives, pickled onions, and tasty meats, shaved right off the spit in front of you. Served with a side of french fries with harissa and/or mayo dipping sauce, and a coke zero (or cola sans sucre). We are now recognized as regulars (as evidenced by our frequent galettes punch card). Over the last few months, we have come to smile, wave to the staff and they now smile back.

For months we have been walking past this storefront, Lucie – ultrafraise, which looked like an automat. For you young ones, imagine purchasing single servings of desserts, meals, salads, soups, etc. individually wrapped, lined up in a case. You select only what you want, pay, and go. I know there are vending machines that offer this, but this was like good food!  Curry and rice, sushi, fancy salads, lasagne, sandwiches, friend chicken and more! Now here is the kicker. The portions are normal, the food tastes good and its very affordable. We shamelessly went in three days in a row to try different things and were not disappointed.

It sure does rain a lot. Sometimes its just a sprinkle and sometimes its a downpour. Fortunately, it isn’t really cold, but it is humid. We have mosquito deterrents in a few rooms and have just purchased those silica gel packs designed to absorb moisture for the clothes closets.

International Chocolate Show. We stumbled on a poster getting off the tram that was promoting “Show-colat” – an international chocolate show! It was an industry show in the morning, and open to the public for tasting and purchasing in the afternoon. Amazing chocolates from around the world; amazing to see Vietnamese or El Salvadoran cacao beans made into chocolate in the U.S, the UK, Swtizerland, Germany, Venezuela and more. The buzz was in Spanish, Portugues, Italian, German and more. 70 stalls of truly some of the finest chocolate I’ve ever had, and some of the most unusual, imaginative flavors too. While I didn’t care for the carmelized onion, the bourbon was outstanding. Rooibos/vanilla was smooth and wonderful. Talking with the vendors was great fun too; almost all spoke English and many were proud family run businesses. All were eager to share how they source their beans, their process. I love seeing people who are passionate about what they are doing. They just love sharing what they love with you. And while the chocolate wasn’t free, the tasting and the event were!

On the Garrone River. Just blocks away from our apartment is the Garrone River. It was the artery that brought the outside world to Bordeaux, with ships from around the world. Churning and moving, the water is constantly brown. But at the changing of tides for a just a moment, the water is still as glass. Our TBM tram passes also work on the bateau (boats) that serve the Garrone in the Bordeaux area; there are three routes. May 8 is the French equivalent of Veterans Day for those who served in the World Wars, so everything was on a Sunday/Holiday schedule. Even with fewer boats were running , we were lucky to have essentially our own personal ride up and down the river. The sun was warm and bright, a slight breeze felt refreshing… just a glorious day for a ride on the river.

Just prior to hopping on the bateau, we took a short walk down a path that had these marvelous wonders. They are not flowers I typically see. Do you know what they are called?

Free speech. Paul were walking back from the tram stop, when we saw police watching a peaceful demonstration on the steps of the Grand Theater. The protesters are not new, but a coalition asking President Macaron to speak up for the Iranian people, raising their cause to the greater European community to help bring an end to the war. They shared photos of victims, those lost and those who have disappeared.

It’s a good reminder that there are many voices in this war that need to be heard, and have a right to be heard. Permitting a peaceful protest is essential for democracy. As I’ve observed the protests in the US – the No Kings rallies – I’m not convinced they influence changing policy, but having attended them, there is a sense of relief and community. You realize that others share your frustrations, your fears, your anger. You are not alone. That is an empowering feeling. That sense of agency keeps folks believing and hoping for a better outcome.

Housed inside a Christie’s Real Estate office, is a small art gallery. We were essentially pressing our noses against the window in such a way that the staff inside called us in. And am so glad that they did. The work is by Hannibal Renberg, a photographer, or more correctly, an iphone photographer. His work focuses on the every day lives of people he sees on the street. These two pieces really struck me. The two women remind me of some of the fun times I’ve had with girlfriends, and some of those times where we sat together and waited for a show to start, talked about how to manage a sticky situation, or shared a memory. The second piece, shook us a bit at first because it reminded us of how much we miss our parents. While we know its the glare of the window that creates kind of a ghost image, it makes you think about having a conversation with a loved one that has passed. You can see more of his work at https://www.hannibalrenberg.com.

In the category of trying something new, at the urge of our friend Asli, we tried pilates. Over dinner earlier this week she shared with us how pilates has been a transformative experience for her both physically and mentally. She shared feeling refreshed and less stiff – and now a reformer is now on her shopping list. With that endorsement, so we gave it a go at M Studio Pilates with Morgane, a charming bilingual instructor. Asli was right. We are feeling it now – but its that good kind of ‘enjoy the stretch’ feeling. Some of you may be too young and nimble to understand this yet. I’ve been telling Paul I need a stick to roll under my feet as my plantar fascitis has been taunting me; the rolly-thing we used under our soles gave me a tremenous release from the bottom of my feet. Sigh. I just ordered one from Amazon.fr. I’m going back next week. Maybe this will be my new way of exercising.

We got mail from America! We received our county voter information in the mail. While we are encouraged that the system (as of today) seems to be working, we already received ballots electronically and have already faxed it in and confirmed its receipt!

Our apartment in Place du Parlement St. Catherine will be a memory that we will revisit often. When we first arrived, we had been warned that we would need to climb four flights of stairs (no elevator). 72 steps. There is a hall light on a timer, so you do need to be mindful to get to the top before the light goes out. At night, it is very dark. We are at the very top of the building, and within the apartment is another set of stairs. The reward after all those steps is the view.

The building was built in the 1800s, and there are some aspects that seem to be from that time! The mosaic tile in the entry way is crumbling, and I can only imagine that a master craftsperson needs to be called in for repairs. The walls all have some kind of moulding and detailing. The stairs are worn, patched and uneven, but the railing is gorgeous. There are eyelet holes on each step, which were used once to anchor carpeting on the stairs. One might imagine that this was once one large house, and our apartment on top were the servants quarters.

There are 6 apartments. We share one garbage and one recycling bin. The garage pick up is 4 times a week, recycling once a week (does not include glass). No one person is responsible for taking the trash/recycling out – we all are. So its unspoken as to who does what when, so you just do it. If you take it out, you bring the bin back in the morning. Glass is actually collected in receptacles; there are two that are a few blocks away from us, The idea is that by separating glass only it makes the recycling process easier..

What we will remember is how we huffed and puffed up those stairs; how it shaped our shopping decisions (can we manage this much weight or the awkward shape of the item up these stairs?), how it made us plan ahead to make the most of every trip up and every trip down. We all also remember looking across the roof deck and seeing St. Michael’s golden spire, the bell tower of Gros Cloche, and the neighbors across the way who would open their paint-peeling shutters every morning and night. We will never forget the wooden floors that squeaked and gave in a little nor the wooden ceiling beams, that we needed to be wary of or risk finding them with our heads. We won’t miss the Spring Break revelers at midnight or the Brazilian drum crew at dinner time, hustling tourists in the plaza. While at times a little loud in our neighborhood, we were ok with it because it was the sound of people, who generally were happy, getting along, laughing and joking around. Sharing the joy of a well played futbol game on the big screen. No fighting, no shouting insults, or rough-housing. People generally picked up after themselves, waited in line, watched their children, helped the elderly, and were polite, civil and even kind to one another. I know. Sounds kind of utopian, doesn’t it?

A girly moment. I adore my hair stylist, Said. That said, he never keeps regular hours. I’m still intimidated to use my flailing French over the phone, so I try to drop by to either get a cut on the fly or make an appointment.. I was lucky to find him yesterday and made an appointment in person. I swear he is a hair magician. A wizard. We do our introductory Fran-glish (French/English mishmash), he offers me espresso, and then he begins. From the hair washing and head massage, to the strategic hair pinning, the hair twist followed by blade work, he gets in the zone. Of course with Algerian music in the background, you can literaly see him get pumped up. He kicked it up a notch this time, and did a keratin steam treatment. It is a hair straightener like device that pumps out steam-infused with keratin.

Holy cow. I felt like my straight hair was actually celebrated – usually hair stylists try to bend it, curl it, goop it up with product, determined to bend its will. He made my hair smooth, healthy, and shiny. He is the hair whisperer.

I think this is what makes Said special. Not only is he a gifted stylist, but you can see that he is focused on understanding your hair, make it shine in healthy ways, know that if you shake your head, the hair will return naturally to the way he intended. Don’t you love people with passion? Consumed with doing their best? While sitting in the chair, customers, cousins, friends drop in all the time. He greets them all, smiles and asks how they are doing? If he knows they speak some English, he introduces me as his American customer. There is this social networking that goes on and you feel privileged to be included. Honestly, its not very French to be so friendly so quickly, but it is a wonderful feeling to be welcomed.

And his prices are very reasonable. We look forward to haircut day.

Back to Back! Could you hear the cheers from France? Bordeaux’s rugby team takes the 2026 European Rugby Championships (6 countries, 24 teams in this league)for the second time! The city was decorated with the team’s colors and logos, and as we watched on television, we could hear every bar in the area cheer, groan and rejoice throughout the game. UBB won 41, to 19 against Leinster, an Irish team.

This morning we walked along the quai, shopped the open market for fresh vegetables, on a whim, thought we would check out the official UBB merchandise store just down the way. Well, others had the same thought with a small crowd waiting for the store to open. You could feel the community pride, camaraderie and joy in the store, in the streets. Proud Bordelais!

Pyquet, a street artist. (https://www.instagram.com/pyquet_art/) has artwork all over Bordeaux city centre. This artist clearly takes issue with politicians, oligarchs, bullies and social injustice (not just Americans)., but also that an understanding and protecting human dignity and decency needs a reboot. The three above are the latest in the ‘America’ series. He also has others that criticize Presdient Macron and other European leaders.

Allez, allez, PSG! It’s a joyous evening in France, as PSG (Paris St. Germaine Football Club) retained its status as the number one Premiere League European Football Club!  The neighborhood erupted with fire crackers, honking, singing and folks driving around, honking their horns. It was an incredibly close game. PSG fought hard against Arsenal, an English football club from Northern London, with the game tied 1-1, even after two overtime periods. The teams were visibly exhausted, having played a 90-minute game, then an additional 30 minutes in overtime. And so, it ended in a shoot-out. I’ve never seen this before! 5 members of each team have a chance to kick the ball into the goal net, and hopefully break the tie. It’s an incredible amount of pressure on both the kicker as well as the goalie.  PSG won, but truly, Arsenal put up a fierce fight. 

I love watching the game but I also find myself tense up, as I worry about players getting hurt: the pushing and pulling, flipping, tripping and kicking that players sustain.  It worries me.  I feel concern about the stress and mental state a player must face, especially during a championship. I think about all the harsh criticism that a goalie must get.  Why anyone would want to be a referee? The criticism, harsh words, (and probably threats) they must deal with would be very hard for the ordinary person. Not to mention their loved ones. I know, I know, they are all grown-ups, get paid and understand what the job is, so I shouldn’t care so much… but I do. 

I recently watched a documentary, UK Untold: Miracle in Istanbul, which tells the story of how Liverpool FC (football club) transformed over the course of 9 months, to become the Premiere League champions. In 2004, the team was deep in the dumps. According to the film, the team manager quit, and a new Spanish coach was selected.  The new coach, Rafa Benitez, seemed odd to the team. No motivational kumbaya mantras, no pep talks, and unusual practice and drills. One of their star players decided to leave the team and join a rival team. The coach then started to share his analysis of every player – their stats, their strengths, weaknesses, their likelihoods, their probabilities, and their habits. He also studied opponents.  Slowly, the team started to transform and work together, their talents and strengths revealed. LFC worked its way to the UAEF championship, facing Milan. The first half ended with Milan 3, LFC – 0. Then LFC came alive and tied the game, overtime, and a shoot-out which led them to win. A miracle. I found the interview with the then goalie really interesting. Jerzy Dudek, a Polish player, had had a rough season, but truly in this game, he was able to shine and brightly. I did a Wiki search, and apparently he went on to have a good career.  He had a special relationship apparently with then Pope John II, who as a kid had played goalie, and took a special interest in the fellow Polish goalkeeper.