We spent a few days in Bordeaux at the end of our trip two summers ago. It was a vibrant, smelly, lovely town with barrels of history, down to the 3rd century roman amphitheater ruins that humbly sat at the end of an avenue of apartments, functioning more as bird sanctuary than tourist destination. The Euro Cup was going on, we celebrated a French penalty kick with some convenience shop owners who signaled us to duck in, we watched the Portuguese fans go nuts and drive and honk and wave flags for hours after their win. With all the hubbub and extra security, it was still oddly serene being in a place of constant human habitation for two millennia, where all had been weathered. That kind of peace that monasteries and abbeys have, as if preserved structures are some sluice for time where grace can wash across centuries.
Kids, always where a helmet when winebiking in a foreign land!
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