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An angel on the Place Jean Moulin, between the trees, reveals the graphite after dark. At the bakery “Le Boulanger de l’Hôtel de Ville” I look in the mirror. The heart is honey-colored corduroy, touching the moon with a finger. Sweet chestnuts. How do we know each other?
I wonder about this as I walk through Bordeaux. Because I feel like this city has been happening to me since childhood.
First, I get off the tram by the tall cathedral and go straight to a tiny café for my fist French coffee and homemade apple pie. Reinette apples lie in a crate by the entrance. Wooden tables are set against a tiled wall. Open space for kitchen. A man-siren and a mermaid embrace on the transparent door.
The Hotel Konti is located on the small street right behind a small palace that doubles as a cinema. It turns out to be very vintage style. Gold-cooper elevator or burgundy winding steps. A handwritten letter from the staff and a dark-green box of canelé wait me on the table in my room. They’re the famous Bordeaux cupcakes that taste like crepes. And my neighborhood actually is the theater district.
I spin a kaleidoscope. The world is composed of beige tenement houses, green and burgundy shutters, silver doorknobs, tram tracks, little squares, and books. Books are everywhere. I’ve never seen such a long queue for books at the most famous independent bookstore, Librairie Mollat. Founded in 1896 and run by the Mollat family for five generations.
At the edge of the Saint-Michel district, I settle in for a glass of red Bordeaux. The street is cobbled. From the gate apears the man on his bike, carrying his girlfriend in a trailer. Spring light in mid-December.
I sit on a bar stool, wearing a hat and wide-leg burgundy trousers in honor of “La Belle Endormie” / “The Sleeping Beauty,” as the French call Bordeaux for its elegance and 18th-century architecture.
Soon I see the Arc de Triomphe and the imposing Pont de pierre / Stone Bridge. Trams jingle as a vendor at the market cuts burgundy fabric with scissors.
I delve into the streets, smelling the blue and white pansies. Vegetable and hazelnut stalls, small hand&craft shops. There it is! The cobalt window of BAG – Bakery Art Gallery – a gluten-free bakery and café that also houses an art gallery.
I sit down on the large terrace beneath the old walls. The eldery man Bernard chats me up in French. I found people in Bordeux like chit chats. The celery, salty peanut and ruckola sandwich tastes divine. Then I go downstairs and pass the glass-enclosed kitchen. I chat spontaneously with woman – the chef. And a moment later, I’m at the exhibition and meet her husband.
–My wife and I set up this place together. She bakes gluten-free breads & cakes. It’s her passion. And I organize exhibitions. Because I love art. I just came back from Cracow . -he says.
At the end I settle into a plush armchair in front of a ceramic stove. The girls next to me seem to be running some kind of workshop. I grab “Utopia” magazine about films in French, of course; maybe I’ll read it someday.
-Will you make me a dish like that too?
I ask an elderly gentleman in a striped scarf. He’s the owner of the bar “Le Saint Christophe” on Rue Saint-James. On the plate are mashed potatoes, black olives, chickpeas, two slices of cheese, carrots, and red cabbage. A head of red cabbage is also on the bar as a decoration.
–Let’s start with the wine, because this dish takes 20 minutes. – he says.
–I recommend coffee with cognac
-says Stéphane, who’s sitting next to us. And so our conversation begins. I remember like my mother used to speak a little French. When I was reading “Le peti Nicolas”
-Stéphane, how do you even play marbles?
–There are countless rules throughout France.
–You know, I bought myself a kaleidoscope. Because it reminds me to enjoy the little details in life.
Suddenly the wine spills onto the map during our conversation because I like gesticulate a lot.
–You will have the best souvenir from Bordeaux! – Stéphane laughs.
And then he tells me about a place where you can try the region’s best wines. It’s call – CIVB – The Bordeaux Wine Office – represents as many as 10,000 Bordeaux wine producers and growers.
However in the evening instead of wine I go to the place I’d booked for dinner.
Dis Leur – it’s a cozy vegan bistro. They serve seasonal, organic, and local food. For the first time in my life, I’m eating chestnut soup. It tastes heavenly, and I feel like I knew this flavor before. I also try the vegan cheese. But first, I ask the bartender how they even make it.
–Our cheeses are made in Brittany from cashew nuts – he explain me.
Sounds amazing! I think, and I try it. All flavors in the bistro enchanted me. Braised fennel, polenta sprinkled with spicy granola. I can easily said that it’s one of the best restaurants I’ve ever been to.
On Sunday morning, while it’s still dark, I see the glory angel again. The moon shines between the buildings. I eat a blueberry brioche and a fresh baguette with cheese. Bordeaux buys a Croissant and sips coffee.
–Can I get that chocolate one too? – I try to say in French.
–Meilleurs vœux, Madame! Merci!
I’m already sitting on a bench, waiting for the tram to the aiport. But I’m not leaving, because Bordeaux remains within me. I put my marbles in the circle drawn with chalk on the sidewalk. The world becomes brown triangles and light-blue flowers.
–Will you take us to Bordeaux? – my loved ones ask.
