After 13 months in the countryside I’ve finally returned to the city. I was reminded of this yesterday when somebody in the street asked me where I was from, thinking I was a tourist. I said Bordeaux.
It’s been a funny few days moving from Queaux to Bordeaux. Moving from a hamlet of 124 people to a city of a quarter of a million. It’s a lot smaller than Lyon, yet it feels bigger. Lyon sprawled up and down and around and over the Rhone valley like a big puddle after a heavy storm. Bordeaux feels more compact and rounded. Like a chocolate biscuit that’s begging to be dipped in a cup of freshly brewed tea and then eaten up in one mouthful.
The only thing Bordeaux is missing is a river. Lyon has two. Here there’s only one – La Garonne. But I think I can live with that as I don’t intend to take up fishing or boating, and the sea isn’t that far away if I fancy a swim.
What I’m going to do here is anybody’s guess. I arrived here ‘sans travail’ – without work – as I wrote on my form for the job centre. I have a ‘back to work’ interview next Friday and I’m hoping they will find me something.
‘I will do anything’ I also wrote down and I can see them rubbing their hands in anticipation at my arrival.
‘So Monsieur Ogley, you’ll do anything?’
I will say ‘Yes’ and hope for the best. Go wherever they tell me. Go with the flow and see what happens. If I feel scared, it will be a good thing. Feel the fear and walk through it.
That’s why I came here. I could’ve gone back to Lyon and picked up my old job teaching EDF students. But that would’ve been too easy. I would’ve been bored after a month and wished I’d gone to Bordeaux. This way I save myself the possibility of regret. I’m already here. In Bordeaux.
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