From my journal: Bordeaux, July 1, 2026
How could I miss a bus and the famous chocolatier Alain Ducasse all on the same day?
I finished my second day in the new class. What a relief! It was so much better. The class was smaller and more to my level. It was challenging but I still understood a lot. I liked the teacher.
Like Level B.1, the A2.2 class was taught entirely in French. I was one of two Americans in the class. I sat next to the other American woman, who was already living in France, and an older man from Australia. Across from me was a middle-aged woman who kept modestly insisting she was a terrible speaker. She would say that in French using quick and complicated vocabulary that was too fast for me to follow. I would usually just nod sympathetically.
Two other lawyers and I sat in our class. Three lawyers total in a 12-person class? It seemed like a remarkably high percentage. One, a woman, was from Turkey; the other, a man, from Colombia. We didn’t sit next to each other and carefully avoided all eye contact.
Nelly, our teacher, believed in one thing – all French all the time. She said she didn’t or wouldn’t speak English. I’m not entirely sure since she said it in French. If someone asked her a question about the meaning of a word like “embouteillage” (traffic jam), instead of just saying “traffic jam” in English and moving on in French, she would explain the meaning all in French.
It was like a guessing game. It gave me strong vibes of growing up when I would ask my mother how to spell a word and she would say, “Look it up in the dictionary” instead of giving me the answer. “But, how can I look it up if I can’t spell it?” I managed then and I think I can manage now.
Nelly spoke slowly, would say things 2 or 3 different ways, often accompanying her explanations with grand and theatrical hand gestures. Sometimes, she wrote on the board. No one in class had a laptop. We only had pens, the books and paper. It was easier to understand what she was saying than I thought it would be.
I wrote everything down as she spoke with my retro mechanical pencil that had a functioning eraser. Today, as I was scribbling away, she walked behind me, watched me for a few moments, and then took my pencil from my hand and put it on the table.
“Écoutez!” (listen), she said.
“Ces avocats !” she muttered under her breath as she walked away. The other two lawyers and I finally gave each other a look and they also carefully put their pencils down. La solidarité ! No need to tell her I still had my phone in my lap.
Today, we talked about Alain Ducasse, his life, his career, his many chocolate shops. I didn’t know who he was, but was assured he was very famous. And, it turns out that he is! Who knew? (Other than, apparently, the rest of the world.)
Coincidentally, one of his chocolate shops is within walking distance of Alliance Française: Le Chocolat Alain Ducasse, Le Comptoir Bordeaux. So, we had a surprise field trip today! The class walked to his shop. I was as happy to be walking to a famous chocolate shop in Bordeaux as if I had won the French lottery!
I’ll be honest. I expected Alain Ducasse to be there. I hadn’t heard about him prior to today, but, still. His name was in big letters on the window. Alas, he didn’t make an appearance. My class squeezed into the chocolaterie and a very nice, young woman came out from the back to tell us all about the chocolates. At least, I assume that’s what she was saying because she was gesturing around and speaking all in French. Then, she handed out chocolate samples to us. It was like being in Willy Wonka’s factory except without the character tests.
Later, I found out that Ducasse is “apparently famous” the way the Garonne is apparently wet. He’s one of the most decorated chefs in the world, with Michelin stars scattered across several countries. I didn’t meet him today, but I met his chocolates, and that was good enough for me!
After that, the rest of the day was a little anticlimactic. I walked to a place for lunch called “Le Petit Wok.” I had a little trauma ordering. As usual, before I walk into a shop, I spend a few minutes trying to work out my side of the conversation in French. When I got inside, I wanted my veggie lo mein “to go.” There’s a specific phrase for food to go – “à emporter”: to take away.
I used the only “go” verb I knew, “aller” (to go): “Aller avec moi,” to go with me. Who knew that phrase doesn’t apply to take-out?
The counter woman looked very confused as I kept asking her in French “to go with me,” “s’il vous plaît!” She probably thought I was trying to ask her for a date. Or abduct her.
Eventually I gave up and ate there. No English required, but no take-out either. The next day I tried again, and a sympathetic, or just impatient, woman in line behind me (who’s to know?) came to my rescue: “à emporter.” The magic words.
My hand gestures had not been good enough to communicate the concept of noodle take-out. Next time, I’ll know and won’t sound like I’m trying to abduct the noodle lady.
After lunch, it was hot. La canicule. But, it was glorious to be there. I walked past the Sherlock Holmes pub; made a stop at the large librairie (bookshop), Mollat, to buy my class textbook and ended up buying a graphic novel all in French at the same time. Then, I walked to the bus stop to make the ride back to the apartment.
Law on the left, literature on the right.
On my first day in Bordeaux, my friend who lives here gave me several sound pieces of advice about surviving in Bordeaux during the summer. Most of them had to do with the bus.
I can say with some confidence that the two most important ones were these.
1. Des éventails: always take a fan with you. I was confused by this one, until I understood. Everyone uses them everywhere in the summer. It was like being in the early 1900s. I was glad I had them and used them often. Also, there is some sort of price-gouging scam going on in Bordeaux when it comes to fans. All the fans started at 12 euros! Where are the discount fan stores? I bought three, at 12 euros each.
2. The Shady Side: The most important one. If you can, always walk on the shady side of the street and wait for the bus on the shady side of the street until it comes. The heat is brutal.
So, here’s what happened this afternoon. After my adventure with the noodle lady, I found the #1 bus stop. The bus stop, shadeless, was baking in the sun. So, I crossed la petite rue in front of the bus stop, and made myself comfortable on the stoop of an apartment building in the shade to wait for Bus #1.
Fifteen minutes later, I saw the bus turning the corner and stood up and prepared to cross back over to the stop. Wouldn’t you know it? A line of traffic suddenly appeared, the bus pulled up to the stop and I couldn’t make it across the street in time. The #1 bus with its large complement of fan-waving French people pulled off without me! And, I had chocolate in my hand!
I had to wait another 20 minutes for the next #1 bus to show up. This time I waited on the sunny side of the street. You disappointed me, French bus system! Next time.
The school has social events posted on their board that you can sign up for. I’m thinking of signing up for the apéro with the other students in a couple of days. I have to put myself out there. This time, I’ll plan the whole bus thing much better.
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