Hello Bordeaux!

Finally we were on our way to Bordeaux, arriving there a week late. Thankfully the Chateau said we could start work when we arrived, so that was good news and we were back on track. Chateau Gruard Larose in St Julien Beychevelle, was our destination and we hoped it was going to be as lovely as it sounded. The red wine is said to be exceptionally good from St Julien, in the Medoc region of Bordeaux, we will be sure to find out and let you know!

So, in recap, we managed to get the precious additive that was needed to get the bus back on the road, and it worked a treat. We left Normandy and headed south, stopping for the night just past Le Mans, the outskirts of which looked horrible, very industrial. We set off about 10.30 the following day, Wednesday, and stopped off to walk Nina in a stunning place called Montsoreau, just the other side of the Loire River, which we had to cross via an extremely narrow bridge (we were grateful not to meet any oncoming lorries).


The Loire River looked beautifully serene and peaceful with a sandy bank stretching into the distance along one side and a smattering of wooden vessels moored along the opposite bank.  Nina got to stretch her legs and we had a quick scoot around the town (famous deceased resident being Andre Obey, L’Homme De Theatre 1896-1975).

As the journey progressed the temperature rose and the landscape changed - it felt good to be chasing the sun.  Along the way we stopped at a supermarket to get a few supplies, including some more diesel oil for the bus.  On returning to the bus from the shop a young guy came over earnestly trying to explain something, gesticulating wildly back toward the store. I realised eventually he was telling us we left the oil (l’huile) in the shop, so I raced back and managed to explain as best I could using  pigeon French and sign language, and eventually we left ‘avec l’huile’!

A slightly worrying development occurred soon after as the bus began to start screeching as it turned through bends and the steering became stiff. We joined the motorway to gain some distance and suddenly it felt like we were back in the rat race, masses of traffic, huge lorries beeping their horns as they overtook us with the drivers pointing at their wrists indicating we were holding them up, cheeky bastards! This was just what we wanted to get away from. Anyway, we eventually hit Bordeaux and misjudged a turn which took us directly into the city, which was not what we intended at all.  By now the steering was very stiff going round any corners and the bus was making a horrendous screeching sound. We ended up in one of France’s busiest cities, and stunning though it was, we did not want to be there, at nightfall whilst major road works were being carried out. I felt like we were really being tested at this point - we navigated our way to some industrial outskirts and stopped to cook dinner. After calming down and eating, we hit the road again and hoped that the bus would get us the 50km or so to St Julien, our final destination. 

Driving through the dark we felt tired and anxious by the time we finally found the Chateau at around 10pm. We pulled up near a pretty single story building which had light and laughter pouring out from it and approached a guy (Italian, speaking very good English) cooking his dinner in a camper van in the in the courtyard behind.  At first he assumed we were tourists asking directions but as soon as he realised we were fellow grape pickers he directed us to where there was a ‘commune’  of pickers located a short distance away alongside the river where you chose your spot to set up camp.  We followed his directions, and as we approached, I was feeling more ‘cult’ than ‘commune’. As we drove alongside the river bank dozens of dogs started barking, the scene resembled a hippy site from the 1990s. We pulled in and stopped. There was a huge fire pit with hard techno music pumping out full bore, and voices shouting, it was surreal, I felt scared! Exhaustion hit us, we (well, Nick) had been driving for near on 12 hours, so with no further ado we hit the sack and resolved to deal with everything in the morning.

Morning came, following a broken sleep, interspersed with loud foreign voices, hectic music and many barking dogs. Nina had been in her bed since about 7pm when we had dinner in Bordeaux so needed a wee desperately, I looked out of the window and saw what looked like a scary dog sitting watching me, ready to pounce or defend. Basically I was in an unnecessary panic. Earlier that morning we heard a claxon sound which I assumed meant work was starting, so by now we were alone, except for all the dogs, in this weird new environment.  Nick calmed me down and suggested we had a look around, went up to Chateau, got the lay of the land, and if we decided we didn’t like it we could go somewhere else – sound advice, as ever.

As we marched up to the Chateau, there was no denying we were in a beautiful place. We asked for David, the guy I had been emailing since February about work, he came out all smiles and welcomed us. Bearing in mind, we were a week late already, he was very understanding when I told him I would not be able to work the following day, as I had a VA assignment come in, which I did not want to turn down. He introduced us to Mr Frederic the farm boss, who told us we would start at 2pm that day and to meet the bus in the courtyard.  So this was it, we were in, we were starting, we were ready!

At 2pm we joined the other pickers to board the bus, there were two teams, we are in Team 1, there are about 50 people per team. It is a mixed and motley crew - Spanish, Portuguese and French, Nick and I are the only English, it’s a mixture of gypsies, travellers and professionals taking time out from their usual jobs, older couples and a few odd bods and misfits. In the field there is a lovely ambient atmosphere, people laugh and joke and throw grapes at one another and pass around the moonshine brandy with grape juice at break times – the Chateau has an excellent reputation for how it treats its workers, there is much laughter and chat – many people come back to work here year after year – they are a lovely bunch (excuse the pun). Work starts at 8am and finishes at 12.30, then its back at 2pm until 6pm. It takes about 45 minutes to pick a row between two of you, then you have a break for about 5-10 minutes. There are different types of workers – the bosses who check you’re picking ok, the pickers, the guys that carry the big buckets on their backs that you empty your basket of grapes into when full, then there are the people who sift the grapes on the machines on the back of the tractors and finally the drivers – it’s a real team effort. This year is harder than usual as the Chateau has switched to organic production and the change has meant that the grapes haven’t adapted well and on each bunch there are rotten bits that need to snipped out – on the upside, its extended the work time and so we have extra days that will make up for the time we lost at the start.

It was great to eventually get stuck in. The boss kindly put us in a smaller team with three lovely people who spoke good English, including Genevieve, who in her usual life if an Ayurvedic therapist originally from Quebec. It feels good to be working in the sun, good physical exercise but not taxing on the brain. Everyone want to talk to me and Nick for some reason, I guess they want to practice their English. I  think we are a bit of an enigma, turning up a week late in our bus, then me doing half a day then taking the following day off – it’s too difficult to explain that I am a virtual assistant and do another job too!

Back at base I have got used to the techno music, which isn’t so bad on week nights, but at weekends, OMG, give me strength - it’s funny because when we driving down here Nick relayed a story about when he was grape picking twenty years ago and said god the French went mad for driving for miles to find a techno party in the middle of nowhere back then – well that was then and evidently it is still happening now!

Yesterday marked our first weekend in Bordeaux, we went to Paulliac, the major town of this region, where my dad picked grapes over 30 years ago and I imagine it has not changed a lot since then.

Nick commented today that it felt like we had ‘finally landed’ and that’s how it feels - we are living the dream we were chasing. We are in a beautiful place, the weather is hot, we are happy, Nina is content (we can even comfortably leave her to run free and play with all the other dogs here, who love her – she is the new kid on the block), we have work for the time being, we are meeting all our costs, the people are nice, the view is amazing,  the food is good, I’ve spoken to both my kids this week who are happy and well, that is all I could want for.

Vive La France!