Thursday 20 June 2019
As my washing interminglemangled in the laundrette, I walked around Montignac.
A lovely medieval town nestling in the wooded hills of the Dordogne,
as the river Vézère eases by. The local cinema is showing a season of rock films – Queen, Elton John, The Doors and Eric Clapton – and in Nelson Mandela square the festival office is promoting a season of world music and dance, belying the staid and conservative first impression.
In a small park
stood the usual memorials, and this one,
to nineteen people of the town shot or deported by the nazis just because they were Jews. No place was safe.
I drove southwest through the Dordogne, all wooded hills and brown and mustard villages, rocking up in Bordeaux in the late afternoon. The city’s motorhome parking is on a dockside off the river Garonne, which meets the river Dordogne north of the city whence they hold hands and skip a short distance to the sea. So while Bordeaux feels like a seaport, it isn’t, despite that I’m parked across from these U-boat pens.
First impression of the area wasn’t great, but as I went for a walk to check it out I was reminded of the docks at Nantes, but with a couple of years work still to do.
There is building development causing disruption in every direction, and new landmark buildings. Where the docks meet the river is the Cité du Vin,
and halfway along is the Musée Mer Marine, with this striking piece at its entrance.
Hovering over the dock, a UFO threatens,
or maybe it’s stopping off for wine.
There are bars and eateries ready to make the most of developments. It would be interesting to come back in a few years.
Bordeaux seems to have a sense of fun, it certainly is showing some flair.
Not bad for a short walk.