Rapunzel in Pauillac

Picture this: It's after midnight in Pauillac and we're just about to go to bed. I hear a whistle from the street and peering through the gaps in the shutters I spy a man on the street looking up at my window. He must be the whistler. So, wondering whether perhaps he is need of help, I open the shutters and windows and say Bonsoir. As it turns out, he's staying at the hotel a few doors down and is looking for a cafe or anywhere that's open to have a drink and round off his night. We have a conversation - he on the street, me at my second floor window - about the dearth of  activity in town. I learn that he's coming with a group of 35 people in November on a wine tour and will thus have to organise a night event. I inform him that given that I will be in Australia in November I can't assist him on that front. Et voila, we wish each other good night and I close the shutters again. I can only assume that he whistled at our window because it was the only lit window in Pauillac at 12.30 on Saturday night, in his words: "Pauillac, c'est mort" (Pauillac, it's dead.)
On further reflection, it is somewhat strange that I have not noticed a single bar or cafe in Pauillac. It's a town that has a reasonable population, and this is in stark contrast to the other towns I have spent time in in France. A mystery warranting further investigation.

La pluie, les nuages - tout gris

Well, for a quick contrast, this photo is the view from our window that has been the predominant one for the last three weeks. Coming from Ballarat I'm used to cold weather, but the consistency here is a little gloomy - three weeks of grey, wet, windy and cool is not the beautiful spring climate that I was expecting. It is apparently a little unseasonal, so hopefully our karma will improve and bring fine weather for the rest of the stay. Fingers crossed.

 I can't be too pessimistic. As the sun-drenched dredge demonstrates, there are a few moments of glorious sunshine.

Turning whine into wine

Wine is an important part of life from a very early age here in Bordeaux - while your parents are inside tasting and buying wine, spend a little time on the grape slide. (Lucie and Gabe twigged instantly that it was a bunch of grapes - lucky they told their silly old mama what it was or she may have been puzzled for a lot longer!)

La Plage Atlantique

Et voila - a day at the beach on Easter Sunday. Two very happy kids had a big play on the enormous dunes on the Atlantic coast west of Pauillac yesterday. Despite the icy wind, which may or may not have explained the lack of children, Lucie ended up completely soaked with a grin from ear to ear. The huge tides and relatively shallow water mean the dunes are very steep and the beach is intriguing map of tiny rivers, ponds and islands with water trickling gently between them.

We collected a few stones or were they Easter eggs? (Sadly they lost their translucency when they dried.)

La vie est belle!

Sometimes the universe chooses to be kind and this trip to Bordeaux seems to be one of those occasions. Our apartment turns out to be much better than the very brief description and four photos that were the basis of my booking. These photos were taken from the lounge room!