It’s like the Marx Brothers. It’s not clear who is who. We are bouncing around the south of France, the brothers Barclay, minus Maxwell, minus Jamie God rest his soul, occasionally squabbling, bumping into things, eating good food.
So yesterday I found out where the Societé de St Jacques was and walked there in the evening. Picked up a new scallop for the back of my pack. Also a length of yellow twine. There’s an ourobouros I am moved to wear for this next leg of my conscious walking aspect of being alive. On Camino it was a malachite I had round my neck and I hammered it into a wooden post halfway when it was “full”. Replaced it with a cross of St James as I wanted to be less obviously multitheist given the context. But I like to carry signifiers of various things.
Bordeaux is very much part of the pilgrim route, although nothing like as travelled as the factory that starts at SJPdP. There are scallop markers all over the place. This morning I snuck into mass in the cathedral. Got my holy bread from the bishop. You aren’t allowed wine now, pretty much anywhere. You just have to watch the guy in the hat drink it for you. He was the actual bishop this time, and came with his army escort. I’ve got more God in me now than I had this morning.
Then we all had lots of coffee and pinged around town. A gorgeous Italian meal for lunch. Then we all peeled off a while and I went to The Wine Museum. Of course. The City of Wine.
How do you make wine interesting enough for a museum? The French solved it in one of their favourite ways. Sound and light. They’ve always been ahead in that game. Jean-Michel Jarre blew the doors off in the nineties by accompanying his synth noodling with really involved laser light and sound. Since then they’ve kept the skill up. At Chartres last time I was in France they had an incredible display projection-mapped onto the outside of the cathedral. Today I had an ASMR and sound styled journey through the seasons accompanied by tastes of the seasons in wine. Lots of soft clicking noises. Soothing music. Mandalas and HD videos of natural things. It felt like I was about to be euthanised although the wine was the definition of nothing special, and surprisingly international to catch the tourists, like me. “This one is from home,” you could say from 3 wine producing countries. I was expecting French wines only but when our sommelier popped a cork and started talking about how protected the Prosecco region was in Italy I realised I’d been sold a pony. One of the couples pointedly left all their glasses untouched after sniffing the contents with angry french noses. They left loudly as soon as they had sniffed the last one, before our poor “sommelier” remembered her last bit of script. I enjoyed it for what it was – an experience. Unfamiliar. There’s always joy to be found.
Off to Condom next. This’ll be over before it has begun. Perfect weather has really added to a lovely opportunity for “we three” to come together.
Did you ever see a picture of us?
End with an obscure Twelfth Night reference Al. That’ll definitely grow your audience.
AlBarclay 