Bordeaux and Bed

There is currently two men constructing a bed base in my bedroom. They can't speak English and I can't speak French. It's a forced silence. Therefore one would presume that it would be a comfortable silence. It's not. It's weird. Awkward. Further fuelled that they are wearing their work boots, when I have just mopped the floor in there. Dammit.

But yay, finally I'm gonna have my whole bed to sleep on. For the last few sleeps in my whare, the mattress has been on the floor, but because it is so dusty in there on the tiles I didn't want to put the mattress directly on the tiles. So I left the plastic covering on it. It made me feel like I was some small child with a bed wetting problem. Or like a 26 year old adult with a bed wetting problem. It was kinda gross.

Hot water has arrived. Complete bed. My house is now fully ready for my first visitor - arriving tomorrow. Although the more time I spend here, I begin to notice all the little things that are wrong and really need to be fixed. Mainly the bathroom area.

Anyway, shall we move on to the other topic suggested in the title? That being Bordeaux? Yes. Okay.

Bordeaux was awesome. It is about the size of Auckland, with a (very brown) river (think Wanganui River) running through it. The view along the river, or The Quay, was stunning. Huge, grand, gold, stunning buildings set all along the Quay with huge archways that lead through to the rest of the city which sprawls out away from the river. Led by cobblestone roads to numerous sun-trapping squares, Terraces are set and populated by the many hippie-like students, crusties and over-the-top lovers with disregard for those around them. France is made for people watching and judging. I love it. Oh let me judge.

Intertwined amongst the little cobblestreets, and the large squares, and courtyards runs the Tram System. Reminiscant of my days from Melbourne, I love Trams. And there was something attractive about sitting amongst such old buildings from times past to watch a Tram snake through the middle. Followed by the ever casual bicyle rider, with basket on the front, sans helmet, scarf floating over their neck behind them. It was a beautiful place. Laid back, casual and romantic.

A great place to get into the local scene. Which Harriet and Sam have both managed to do wonderfully. Escorting us around the town to nifty little spots, some wine tasting, great restaurants and of course their pub, The Blarny Stone. It was great to see what they have been doing for the last 8 months, and witness the extent of their French Experience and knowledge of the language. With plans to leave at end of May, it will be a sad exit I am sure. They have definitely been sitting on a winning gig during their time there. It was great.

Right, the men have left. Time for me to go buy bedding. Ohhh, yah.