By now I’ve been living in Bordeaux for close to a week. Every morning I’ve woken up to the clanging of construction workers renovating the Baroque-period house across the street and settled into bed at the fall of each evening as swifts dart above shingled rooftops. They chase and plunge, fluttering every so often to snatch at moths and other insects. Brown wings blur like brushstrokes on a darkening canvas, painting streaks of shadow upon orange clouds before disappearing, silently, behind rows of chimney stacks. During the daytime I take the bus into the city for my errands, or to meet friends, or simply to be surrounded by the constant pulse of life in a city. People flow (tourists on foot and locals on bicycles) between the stone buildings and flood the courtyards, some taking a moment to stand before the city’s millennia-old cathedrals. Pigeons tussle over a scrap of bread before being shooed away by a blond-haired child, who stomps the bread into the ground and stands defiantly with his arms raised, declaring war. For the first time in half a year the sight of a peer does not come as a surprise, or even register. It is a welcome change. Though Bordeaux has introduced a new level of activity to my days, the move has also given me a chance to catch my breath and reflect upon my time in Périgueux. Though I’ve written extensively about my travels, I plan on sharing some more photos and words about Périgueux and its people. For now, here are some photos from two spring weekends: first, when Maisie and I explored the towns of the Dordogne, including Brantôme and Limeuil; second, last week’s trip to Nice, where Maisie, Molly and Millie ran a half-marathon.
Deichman 