Guess What? You Don’t Know Where I Am!

So guess what? I’m not in Prague and I’m not going there. Goodbye to the Author’s Festival and the International Gypsy festival. I’ve just heard too many stories about how it’s overflowing with tourists. One girl said she couldn’t even get a decent shot of the Charles bridge because it was swarming with tourists like bees on a hive. Yuck. Couldn’t get that image out of my head. Also, the idea that I didn’t have a hope of picking up the language in a month kind of bugged me. So I’m doing France! Where I can work on my French because I’ve been speaking it a lot this vacation (p.s. I’ve picked up elementary Spanish).

So now you get to guess where I’ve chosen as home for the next month. I picked it because it’s non-touristy and its packed full of students. Here’s a hint…I can’t get the song "Bonnie and Clyde" out of my head. Yes, Bordeaux it is.

After basically a week here, I have developed an intense love-hate relationship with the city. Part of the reason for this has undeniably situational. The budget short-term accommodation here can only be described as divey. So bad. The French don’t travel, that’s the problem. My first night here I dragged my infamous suitcase (which will find its just reward awaiting it in Saskatoon when I no longer depend on it: I am going to throw it down the stairs, then use it as a suitcase trampoline, then scream into its pockets in the privacy of my home, then burn it)…anyway, I dragged the suitcase all over town after a 10 hour bus ride trying to find a place that was at least DECENT.

I finally settled for Hotel Studio only because it was listed as passable by my guidebook and because I was at the end of my rope. Well, what a "studio" I was met with; yes, very hip. The size of a shoe box. And it reeked and was all stainy. Ew. And you know how paranoid I am of mice. I’m sure mice were around. The good thing was that it was dirt cheap and it had a cable television, and since the room was so small that the tv was literally right in front of my nose, in order to soothe my imagination and dull my mind I sat on my bed nose to screen with the tv for 4 hours and then passed out.

Anyhow, so they call Bordeaux the "Sleeping Beauty" and I think that’s a perfect term for it. Or maybe the "Sick Sleeping Beauty" because honestly every day you come across something just breathtaking or fanciful but really it only usually lasts around 5 minutes because then you will zero in on something absolutely disgusting. Like you’ll be staring down a long architecturally astounding street and then you’ll step in dog shit. Or you’ll be dipping an perfect crescent into your coffee and then you’ll catch a whiff of rancid garbage. Or you’ll be thinking how charming the box on a window sill is hanging with flowers an then you’ll turn your head and see a sex shop.

But I’m basically charmed. Lots to do here eventually, I think, including lots of art museums and a pretty good music scene to take in if I make friends. I’ve found a theatre that plays international films in their native language. Also an hour’s trip to the ocean. Crucial after Spain.
What else. Oh yes, so I’ve had a pretty miserable last week trying to find month-long accommodation and in the meantime I have gotten nothing on my book done. Actually for the past month I haven’t and that’s eating at me. I’ve been sort of sick and then trying to barter with people in French for a place to stay…plus I’ve seen some really yucky places and I hate ugly things, they make me feel gross. It’s so annoying because there’s no middle ground here: it’s either nice and expensive or repulsive and cheap.

But…today, after touring two absolutely miserable "female worker’s lodgings" I found accommodation with a French couple in an absolutely perfect artsy neighbourhood. The best thing is that I’m living right there with them in their home, where they have two French guys boarding, so I’ll always be speaking French (as opposed to skulking around a hotel room alone or having boring trip conversations in English with fellow hostellers). Yay!

So that’s my happy news and I’m proud of sending it your way after a week of hell. And a kind of hell specific to Bordeaux, which is one that smells faintly of piss and is also expensive.