From my journal: Bordeaux, July 3, 2026
My first week of French Immersion class in Bordeaux was finished. After a week, I still couldn’t communicate, but I could understand most of Nelly’s spoken French with her exaggerated hand gestures and cheerful tone of voice. It made me feel a little like a sensitive golden retriever who was also kind of good at reading.
Now, it was time to make friends with my fellow students in a wine-controlled atmosphere. Where else should a sophisticated world-traveler drink wine except in Bordeaux? Apparently, everyone else in the school thought so too because there were a lot of names on the sign-up list for the school-sponsored “apéritif.” Although I mispronounced its name the first 5 times I said it, I knew what it was from my last visit.
An apéro (short for apéritif) is quintessentially French. Picture every stereotypical French movie or television show you’ve seen. At some point, there was probably a scene where people gather together for wine, light snacks, bisous on the cheek and sparkling conversation before their (too-late) dinner. I couldn’t wait.
It was also appealing because it was a low-stakes social gathering. I could introduce myself in French; ask a few simple questions of my fellow wine-drinkers; and say things like “absolument” and “oui” when people spoke to me if I couldn’t understand them.
The apéro was scheduled for 6:30 that Friday. I had already done the I-don’t-have-a-car-or-know-anyone-with-a-car time calculations from my apartment. I was determined to master, if not French, at least Bordeaux’s public transportation system. True, I had missed the bus the other day – okay more than one day – but, by then, I had gone back and forth to the school at least 5 times and knew I could do this.
I left my apartment at 5:30. One hour. That should be plenty of time. I had on comfortable but stylish shoes, a sundress and wrap. I was ready!
Canicule. Once more, I thought about what a useful French word Nelly had taught us the first day. The heat was oppressive. But, I still made it to the bus stop and waited in the sun. I wasn’t going to get left again. I arrived at the school with 15 minutes to spare. 6:15 pm.
It was a little weird that there were no other students there, though. Was it too hot for everyone? And…the doors were locked? Maybe the apéro was cancelled?
It only took me 5 or so minutes of getting on the school’s French language website and frantically scrolling to realize that the apéro was not being held at the school. It was, in fact, at the Cité du Vin.
The Cité du Vin, translated as the “City of Wine,” is a gorgeous museum in Bordeaux all about wine-making. It looks like something out of a futuristic society where everyone has stopped using money and spends all their time on self-improvement and helping those less fortunate, less enlightened, non-wine-drinking societies.
I knew because I’d been there two years earlier when I visited with my youngest daughter. We spent a day there and it was amazing. We learned more than I would have thought possible about wine-making, much of which I’d forgotten already, probably because of all the wine. Our visit wrapped up with shared drinks in the magnificent café at the top of the museum with 360 degree views of Bordeaux. We both loved it. It made me want to be a better person. A better person who drank more wine, to be precise.
It’s also worth noting that the Cité du Vin rises above the Garonne River, more precisely, the left bank of the Garonne River. The left bank of the Garonne River is nowhere near the school.
I checked my phone. By now, I was drenched in sweat and I felt like my make-up had started to melt a little bit. If I ran back to the bus stop, I could get there by….
7:30. Maybe 7:15. If I called an Uber….also, 7:15. The Cité du Vin was across town.
I sat down on a bench to think about my options. The streets were full of people out after work on a Friday. Chatting, happy and slowly filling the bars and restaurants – it’s like everyone was already on their way to an apéro except for me.
The apéro, like the life of a butterfly, was only for a short time. One brief hour of Frenchness: 6:30 – 7:30. I resisted the urge to feel sorry for myself for not checking more carefully. But, you know what?
I’m in Bordeaux!
I thought about starting the trek back to the apartment.
No.
You know what’s close to the school? The Sherlock Holmes Pub. That’s got to be as much of a Bordeaux institution as the Cité du Vin, right?
Le pub était bondé.
The pub was packed. When the waiter came up to me at my table, I said “Bonsoir.” Then, I ordered in French. “Je voudrais un verre d’eau, s’il vous plaît.” No English required.
The Cité du Vin will still be there tomorrow.
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