Café Utopia is a café cum cinema in Bordeaux and one of my fave haunts. I often eat there and as this story unfolds I had already had a lunch there that same day. The story begins later that very evening – about 5pm.
After my meal I decided to go for a walk anyway and see the film another time, perhaps. A lot of the time I was in Bordeaux I had the feeling of not wasting the chances to explore and enjoy the sunny weather and made a lot of decisions based purely on those notions.
Full of food now, I thought a nice evening stroll was in order and I made my way to where the Sunday brocantes (junk) market happens every week. This was about two tram stops away and about a fifteen minute journey on foot. I ignored my gurgling tummy and set off with my camera, map and notebook.
As the sun was going down I thought perhaps I would get some good photographic shots of old buildings in the golden light. The district where the Sunday market takes place is a bit of a rough area. On arrival there I witnessed some teenage boys playing basketball nearby and I took a photo of some old street lamps with red windows in the background and afterwards made my way on foot towards the river front. The journey to the river Garonne would be no more than ten minutes away. I ignored my gurgling tummy once more as I walked through the 18th Century backstreets and witnessed the swallows swooping overhead.
bridge en route
|how I must have looked|
Drops of sweat beaded my worried brow and my temperature moved again rapidly from hot to cold and now cramp was setting into one of my legs from the tension of crossing them. I thought 'Please don't let the Pinder Circus promotional clown find me and want to chat circus animal ethics tonight.'
The way forward, through to my hôtel on Rue Notre Dame was just two more cobbled streets . Firstly I needed to go down Rue Foy; three more tight buttock stops. Nearly there keep going. Rue Notre Dame at last, more horrible warm gurgling sensations and two more cross-legged stops. Keep going, keep going! Don’t think about it. Ignore the dog barking. Mind the dog shit. Hôtel up ahead. Mind more dog shit. Find the key.
I tell you something, it was a mighty relief that I hadn’t embarrassed myself in the street or even worse in the hôtel foyer. Phew! Lesson learnt – cut down on the fibre. Two lots of prunes in one day! Raw cabbage and lots of liquid! Am I mad?
After reassuring myself that the danger was past I sat on the bed and read some info on the famous La Tupina restaurant – visited by Rick Stein - and wrote up three pages of notes. I then bathed and relaxed and I went to bed at 8.50pm. Merde! What a drama!
Note: Apart from the top picture of the lamps none of the following pictures were taken on the way back to the hotel that night. You could say that I had more pressing things on my mind.