Bordeaux lies just south of the confluence of the Garonne and Dordogne rivers, and was a revelation. After a less than two hour flight from Gatwick I picked up the rental car and made for Marouatte Castle two hours northeast. There to meet Claire Elizabeth Terry, who runs the Rocaberti Writing Retreat. She began the retreat some seven years earlier. The goal is to bring together novelists, screenwriters and film producers and executives in a castle for five days of mentoring, pitching and networking. Many, many successful projects have resulted from this amazing experience. She holds the retreat at three different castles in Europe (in France, Spain and Italy), but Claire says Marouatte Castle is the one she most often hosts at.
I had applied to the Retreat five years earlier and had met Claire over a Zoom call where I had described my first novel to her. I had been accepted, had been successful in receiving a scholarship, but I had to decline as the cost and timing made it too difficult to attend that year.
But the stars were aligned on this trip. I thought I’d check to see if Claire might be between retreats, as she holds several during the spring and summer. Sure enough, I would be there when she was just getting ready for her next retreat so I reached out to her and we agreed I’d come by on May 18 after landing and take her for lunch.
The journey was an adventure. Missed turns, Google maps not quite capturing the many small roads and sudden turns. But I eventually found the castle up a hill and found myself driving toward a castle with walls surrounding it; I parked outside the castle gate, opened the gate and felt like I had stepped back in time. Before me was a vast grassy courtyard several acres in size with low buildings on one side. And there was Claire sitting with the two of the mentors having a cup of tea as I arrived. She saw me and recognized me, but she thought I was coming the next day. No worries she said and graciously gave me a tour of the castle. She doesn’t own it; it is owned by Miles Copeland, the music producer and former manager of The Police. She said if we did meet Miles she’d say…hesitated, and we landed on, ‘I’m a writer and am considering coming to the retreat’ – the truth is best.
We never did meet Miles but wow what a tour Claire gave me. It’s a castle built in the 14th century, so couldn’t have been more perfect an example of what Chaucer might have visited on his journey to Bordeaux. From the crenellated towers, interior courtyard and tapestries, to the armour, coat of arms and worn sandstone, every inch told a medieval story. I was in heaven. I couldn’t believe how well preserved every inch of the property was. I could sense the many lives that had lived there. And then on top of that all of the creativity that had been generated there more recently. Claire said some of the towers and rooms were haunted. I believed her. She had some stories to tell…
The drive back to Bordeaux was a bit of a different kind of story.
I stopped at small town near the castle and everything was closed except a market and bought cheese and wine and baguette. The bottle was a Sauternes, and was very, very good.
Then stopped at Saint-Émilion, one of the oldest continuous producing wine making areas of France, producing wine since the 1190s. The town is a UNESCO World Heritage site.
Then Bordeaux, and after cell phone died with Google maps and amidst a traffic jam and finally found a charge and my way to the pensione – a lovely spot not a 15 minute walk to the old district. Which I did after eating. And discovered Cathedral Saint Andre, but it was closed. A majestic sight as the sun set.
Then ate fabulous cheese and had the Sauternes wine I had bought in the small town near the castle and napped.
In the morning I returned the rental to the airport, and caught the new tram back to the apartment. Then walked to the old area.
The Basilique Saint-Michel was dark and had bad, bad vibes. it felt like a lot of bad stuff had happened there. Unfortunately the 115 metre tower next to it was being renovated for structural integrity and covered in scaffolding, so I was unable to climb to the top.
Made my way to the river walk – and realized the “Port of the Moon”, as this part of Bordeaux was called, was much flatter than I had envisioned. No elevation to speak of – less so than even London’s St. Paul’s that stands atop Ludgate Hill, the highest point of the City of London. Looking across the bridge, the Point de Pierre, I thought there were hills to the north but they were further away; on the right (north) bank of the Gironde Estuary (and River Garonne), and more like a small hill. Good to get the topography right. The massive cathedrals and palaces would have been even more imposing as Chaucer stepped off the cog from London and looked south. The buildings of contemporary Bordeaux are nearly all 18th century, with just a few notable medieval buildings including the cathedrals and Porte Cailhau, one of several gates to the city.
Had lunch in the square by Eglise Saint-Pierre, the oldest church in Bordeaux (begun in the sixth century AD; and sadly closed). Seafood salad and beer – fabulous.
Walked the streets. It was a bank holiday but most shops were still open and on the busy main drag of Rue de Saint Catherine bought a t-shirt, then went back to Cathedral Saint Andre and it was now open – what a fabulous cathedral.
The outside was being cleaned, and the yellow limestone looked new, as if the church had just been opened. The gargoyles, my favourite, were everywhere. Inside found a gallery that was displaying art…including wonderful clothing from the 14th century, two gold chalices, and some lovely period art. And was overwhelmed by the stained glass, gothic arches, and the sheer amount of beauty, craftsmanship, and quality of the artisanal effort combined with the spiritual impetus to inspire awe – which works to this day, some 700 years after the church was built.
Then picked up a terrine, two risotto balls and desert and home. Nap, eat, booked bus tickets to Pamplona via San Sebastian, asleep by 9pm. Up 3:30am, Uber 5:15am to bus, which departed at 6am.
Smooth bus ride to Bayonne and on to Donastia-San Sebastion, then off to wait for next bus and had some pintxos (the Basque spelling of the Spanish “pinchos”, as San Sebastion is in Basque country) for early lunch then onto next bus that climbed into the Pyrenees and descended into a valley surrounded by mountains – and Pamplona, capital of the ancient kingdom of Navarre (and current province of the same name).