Bordeaux

I've always had trouble with French geography, and I won't try to get into it here, not much anyway. Suffice to tell what little I know about Bordeaux and the fine wines of the region. Bordeaux is situated at the southern end of the Gironde estuary, which is so long as to almost be a river, but it is simply an estuary with a tidal bore, into which several rivers flow (Garonne, Lot, Tarn, Ariège), one of them beginning in Spain, on the other side of the Pyrenees.

Bordeaux

Bordeaux is a well-laid-out city with pretty civic buildings. Unlike in Paris, its people are friendly and show none of the notorious arrogance of the people of the capital. It has fine shops and restaurants, some quite chic. But best of all it has very fine wines from the many chateaux in the vicinity, with names such as Médoc, Graves and Saint Emilion. To have a meal in one of the excellent restaurants in Bordeaux, with a good bottle of a vintage beverage bearing an appellation controlée is to have an experience worthy of any bon vivant or boulevardier worth his sel de mer.

Upon leaving the port of Le Verdon, at the very northern tip of the Gironde, our bus took us on a long drive through the Médoc, past rolling vineyards which Brigitte, our charming oenologist of a guide, said had some of the best soil and growing conditions for grapes to be found anywhere in the world. We Californians could have disputed her claims, of course, but out of a surfeit of la politesse, we did not.

In the center of Bordeaux is a shopping complex called Grandes Hommes. We found a pleasant little restaurant nearby, the 'Jardin des Landes', where we enjoyed a tranquil and leisurely lunch of the local guinea fowl and fresh produce prepared with the most subtle and delicate of sauces. The service was impeccable as well. The charming middle-aged French couple who were the proprietors showed us a photo of their adopted Vietnamese-born son.

A heavy afternoon shower foiled shopping plans as we began a stroll along the Cours de l'Intendance, and we were quite soaked by the time the bus picked us up for the long ride back through the vineyards to our waiting ship.