Hola,
We are currently on the bus in Madrid that is taking us to the ‘Rock in Rio’ concert tonight (with Bon Jovi as the headline act). Krys is very excited and took a very long time to get ready; I think she has expectations that tonight will be the night that Jon Bon picks her from the crowd and whisks her off to her desired life of hair streaks and double denim on middle aged men. So I better provide an update before the rest of the travels are solo…….
Anyway, picking up where we left off, after Paris we made our way to Bordeaux which was an interesting experience. We arrived there with images in our heads of beautiful rolling hills dotted with chateaus. We got what looked like a disused Mitre 10 warehouse with a manky smell masquerading as our hotel on the barren outskirts of town (thanks Tripadvisor). We tried to find other accommodation but unfortunately our visit coincided with a lawyer convention. So with all other hotels full, we had to accept that instead of a Bordeaux Chateau, it would be a Bordeaux Shiteau for us.
Our accommodation aside, Bordeaux itself is a pretty town. Like a mini Paris with some beautiful architecture, a grand church and a river running up the middle. It was also the base to go exploring the surrounding wine country. The surrounding wineries are classic France – small sandstone buildings surrounded by row upon row of grape vines. And of course, a portly vineyard owner who looks like he has split his time evenly between eating croissants and drinking litres of the finest malbec. We spent a day touring a few of the Chateaus just north of Bordeaux but by the end of the day the overly verbose and grandiose descriptions of the wine making process were just becoming an irritant to two Aussies wanting to get half cut to take the edge off the smell of their lowly accommodation.
Bordeaux was also good in terms of providing us some clarity on our ‘derriere’ issue. We were in a cafe having breakfast and said the usual ‘merci beaucoup’ to the waitress. She responded with what sounded distinctly like ‘derriere’. At this point I thought I had successfully reworked the French greeting norms, and the trend I started in Paris of responding by saying ‘ass’ to any expression of gratitude had taken hold and had spread quickly to Bordeaux. But consultation with our French tutor (thanks Liselle) revealed that the word for ‘you’re welcome’ in fact was ‘de rien’. One different letter; so much confusion.
We have also been treated to the varying quality of the French medical system over the past week. Krys has had an eye infection and our first Dr visit in Paris found us in front of a jolly but largely useless man who knew 3 phrases in English. They were ‘do you use contraception’ (I think they all ask this just for interest sake), ‘you have an eye allergy’ (decided by examining the eye from across the desk when clearly this wasn’t the case), and ‘you give me 60 Euros now’. The fact I didn’t have the cash on me meant I had to leave Krys as collateral until I returned with the money. I’m glad the situation wasn’t reversed – I’m not convinced she would have returned. Sure enough in 3 days time Krys’ eyes had not responded to the ‘allergy’ medication and she was struggling big time with her eye sight.
But our 2nd attempt at a fix in Bordeaux had us in front of a friendly and lovely eye specialist who diagnosed, gave medication, insisted on a return the next morning to check progress then refused any payment at all on the grounds that we were travelling. fixing the eyes was important and he ‘already had enough money’. We bought him a bottle of wine in appreciation which given the look on his face will probably be used for cooking – perhaps we should have paid attention to the Bordeaux vineyard owners after all…..
Then it was on to San Sebastian in Spain. We were probably lucky to make it given the nice train man had to wake us and direct us to the correct carriage. Apparently the train split in two, and we were sitting in the half that goes to god knows where. But I guess, how bad could it have been? It’s not like they have anything like Adelaide in France…..
San Seb was great; little alleys of bars serving tapas, wine, beer and sangria tucked in behind a magnificent beach of crystal blue water that is bound by huge mountains to the north and south. We climbed to the top of the South island (actually we took a train to the top – I don’t think we are capable of walking long distances any more) for one of the most spectacular views I have ever seen.
Then it was off to lay on the beach and try and get some sun – I’ve been preparing for this moment by continually expanding the surface area for the sun to hit by gorging on chocolates, wine, croissants and pastries. If I was a solar panel I think I’d be capable of powering a small town given how much area there is for the sun to hit….. Anyway, when it comes to sunbaking the Spanish are quite comfortable with their bodies. It was like a sandy version of Moulin Rouge (without the dancing). While this was mostly good, it did also provide some sights that will haunt us for a while – for some people, clothing is there so as not to scare young children (or travellers with weak stomachs).
The Spanish language has been great. Although we seem to have retained little more than the words for hello, goodbye, coffee, wine and beer from our lessons. Then again, what else could we need? Well for starters, last night we needed the Spanish translation for ‘could you please return my plate as I clearly am still eating the meal you just confiscated’. We had come up against a particularly efficient waiter (he must have been of German origin) who seemed intent on taking our plates before we had finished. At one point I thought Krys and the waiter were going to engage in a tug of war over the remaining chorizo slices. Do need get between Krys and fine cuts of cured meats.
Then this morning it was an early flight to where we are now – Madrid. And the event around which the entire trip was planned (Krys’ stalking of Bon Jovi). Should be an interesting night.
Adios.
Trent and Krystal (and maybe Jon Bon).
smallthoughts 