Oh no, not again!

We sprung into action quickly today. Check out was at 11 a.m., and in that time we needed to find some place with internet. We knew we’d have to be with our pack until 7 p.m. and were absolutely dreading it. For those of you who haven’t done backpacking it’s like strapping a 11 year old child to your back for an entire day. Not only is it exhausting and you only have about 10 strong minutes in you… you’re kind of in that limbo period where you still need to keep a babysitters watch on it. We figured we were limited. Public libraries? Universities? All were on the edge of Bordeaux, and no they don’t have Barnes and Noble here. Don’t worry, I checked for similar concepts, which they have none of. It looked as though we’d be getting our things and sitting here for the ENTIRE day. This was irritating to say the least, especially considering what we went through to get there.

I opened the door to our hotel, and spoke with the head clerk. I did my best to try and explain. Even for a few hours, may we please leave our luggage here?

Luckily, this man was more than kind. Oh of course, of course! Until when? 6 p.m., absolutely! I was so happy I could’ve kissed him. We piled our luggage in the corner of a small room, took all of our essential cannot be stolen goods, and were off. It was like someone handed us a free pass for an extra day. Here I had already resigned to us having a ‘wasted’ day on this warm December day in Bordeaux, but thankfully things changed. Our host, Violaine, was going to be giving us a tour ofBordeaux later in the week, so we knew we didn’t want to do too much. Walking around (SCORE) sounded like the best option, so we did. Bordeaux is centered on a long, wide river, and almost the entire town is situated on a single bank. The streets are much wider here, and have this elegance and flow like.. a quilled pen. Ha, I know. Why would I think that? Seriously, Thomas Jefferson and all of his comrades should’ve/could’ve walked out of ANY one of these buildings. Everything is so regal, it’s like peering into a time capsel. Almost all of the doors here are in shades of green and blue, yet are defined by their ornate wood workings and knockers.

The road opened into a large square with 6 long rows of vendors. In front of these vendors there was a large statue with a spewing fountain. As we looked closer these vendors turned out to be antiques. ANTIQUES. Rows and rows of antiques. Door knobs older than our country. FULL china sets from the 1600s. I was in heaven. I love antiques in the first place, but this was out of this world. I walked up to the first tent completely dazzled, half expecting them to charge 1000 euro per piece. I was wrong! Everything was moderately priced, even more so than in the U.S. … duh! Of course, there is a higher supply of antiques… these are actually affordable! I couldn’t believe it. We didn’t have our packs, we’d been granted a new lease on this day, AND we found an antique market? I LOVE YOU FRANCE.

After spending a good two hours there we walked around the city. We’d planned on eating an early dinner, so we went to the main strip (that we knew of) with all of the restaurants. In the middle of the boulevard there was a Christmas market going on. Food, clothing, and gift vendors, with beautiful colored lights and a carousel. The smells were to die for. Kabobs, hot paninis, roasted almonds, and chocolates. A window shoppers delight. We ended up finding a smaller restaurant down by the antique market where we each got a kabob the size of our head.

It was now 5 p.m. and we needed to do a ‘practice’ walk to our host’s house. She hadn’t left us her apartment number, so we needed to see if she lived in the entire flat, or what the deal was. PLUS, there will be no repeats of the night before. I wanted to have this path engrained in my memory. It only took around 10 minutes to get there, and we found her place without a glich. A new problem arose when we realized that we indeed needed an apartment number, which wasn’t listed. She’d e-mailed me letting me know she worked until atleast 6:30.. so we had no choice. We had to go back to the hotel and pick up our packs, head back over to her house and hopefully catch her on her way home from work.

I was not thrilled about this because it was going to be dark during that period. A part of me knew nothing would happen, but I was still not excited about sitting and waiting. Plus, we don’t exactly look the classiest. We could potentially be really high tech looking homeless people, as we were carrying our entire lives with us too.

So we waited. And waited. And waited. I was starting to get nervous. It was 7 p.m. and officially very dark. I was watching her door like a hawk while Erik was going through his pack. Hurry, hurry,hurry was all I could think over and over.

All of the sudden a black ford pulls up next to us. Erik and I both sense it slowing, and all three men looking directly at us. We both looked away, but it was like feeling a moist breath on the nape of your neck. We were VERY aware, in a VERY creepy way. I took one looooooong breath as the car stopped immediately in front of us. When I say stopped immediately in front of us, I mean, dead in front of us, door nearly touching. I’m panicing already.

……………….. Off goes the engine.

Slam. Slam. Slam. One man comes around my side of the bench. The other two around Erik’s side. These men were tall, muscular and not to be messed with. Seriously, not to be messed with. Their shirts showed their muscles, and their all business facial expressions showed that they were about to engage in just that. The man closest to me says something to me in French and looks at my purse. He glanced in a long deliberate stare, as if to say ‘I am absolutely doing what you think I’m doing, I’m looking RIGHT at your purse’. The other men say something to Erik, and I think I was so scared I peed a little. ‘So this is how it happens. This is how I get all my stuff stolen’. I can honestly say that in that moment of fight or flight, I did neither. My response was complete shock. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even turn my head to look at Erik.

They said something louder, and both of us remained mute. I wasn’t moving, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. There were people around, so that was one thing we had on our side. Again, they spoke. Now they stepped closer. Pardon my French but insert a mental swear word.

‘Oh,do you speak English?’

Erik managed a ‘yes’. I managed a jaw on the ground.

They then said ‘We are French police’. I sat there frozen. To hell with that. You are not French police. You pull up in a gangster car, in average to street clothes, and are straight up not to be messed with.. I’m going to go with that phrase being a lie. One of the men pulls a VELCROX police badge out of his pocket. ‘Seriously. We are French Police’.

No, I’m not kidding you. You could get a better ‘Police Badge’ at ToysRus. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I sure wasn’t going to move. Erik reaches to pull out his pass port. They see that we are American, and IMMEDIATELY lax. The other man pulls out an official badge, and says again ‘We are French police. Please do not be scared.’ I’m almost in tears. REALLY? You creep on your prey like a loin in the night and expect me NOT to be scared? I shakily handed over my passport. We explained we were just waiting for our friend to get to her flat, and we didn’t have a key to let ourselves in.

They profusely apologized, saying they just wanted to be sure we weren’t doing anything suspicious. I’m assuming one of the neighbors called us in because of our packs and the fact we were waiting there for over an hour. As they drove off if someone would’ve came up to me and said, ‘Care to catch the next train out?’ I don’t think I would’ve spoke. I would’ve been in that train seat with a serious bucket of ‘eat my emotions’ ice cream faster than you can say Bordeaux.

Luckily, moments later Violaine arrived. I controlled myself, and told the story as cooly as I possibly could. Once we got situated in her GORGOUES apartment, things start to calm down. We were able to put our stuff away and kind of relax. Her apartment is a loft with 15 foot high ceilings, so by American standards, it was nearly two floors. Violaine took us to the market near her house where we got- listen to this: a big block of Brie, a bagette, and a GREAT bottle of French cab for under four euro.

We got back to her house and I comforted myself in Brie appetizer after Brie appetizer. Grab. Chew, DEAR GOD I WAS SO SCARED, swallow. Grab. Chew, THAT REALLY JUST HAPPENED?, swallow. Grab. Chew, YES-YES IT DID, swallow…

After half a block of Brie and a good glass of wine I compromised with myself that must all be part of the plan..or at least it would make one heck of a memory. I’d have to give it that, otherwise the only thing I could consider it responsible for was taking 30 minutes off my life.

Hey, I might’ve been scared, but I’m still an optimist.

(Mom and Dad..Let me say we are VERY safe in Violaines neighborhood.. it's well patrolled. I love you guys, and don't worry. We are safe:) )