Sept 14th – St. Émilion

Day 1 – Saturday

Ah mon Dieu. So far, our French adventure has been an expensive nightmare.

First, Charles DeGaul Airport is massive. It takes approximately 20 minutes or more on the shuttle bus that carries already security-cleared passengers making connections between terminals.

Our United flight to Paris was booked by me. The Air France flight to Bordeaux was booked by the travel agent. Unforeseen mistake number one. Apparently, never the twain shall meet when they’re unaffiliated airlines…at least when one hopes to check one’s luggage through to the final destination. Because Peg had forewarned us that there’d been a bit of running around in getting her luggage to accompany her on their flight to Biarritz, I asked a lot of people about our luggage and where I should expect to find it after we landed and before we were hustled through the terminal. To a person, everyone said we would find it at Terminal Two from which the Biarritz and Bordeaux flights departed. (Mistake no. 2)

But, no! Our luggage was riding the carousel back in Terminal One while we were roaming T(erminal)2. As it turns out, we had to leave the secure bubble of airport security, ride back to T1 to retrieve our bags, then hustle back to T2, fighting mobs of fellow travelers, hoping against hope that we could still make the flight.

In the meantime, aside from our woes, there were texts flying back and forth about the Fongs not having seats on our Bordeaux flight because it had been oversold. So, too, was a flight later that afternoon. Fortunately, they got their fairy tale ending. They were able to acquire two open seats (Not ours. We asked.) on the original flight and continue on their merry, scheduled way rather then investing in expensive alternatives.

At the same time that the Fongs were strutting up the gangway to Bordeaux, we found ourselves leapfrogging from one Air France customer service representative to another, each one directing us farther and farther along the terminal as we repeatedly tried and failed to print luggage tags. We still held out the hope that a last minute mad dash to the gate seconds before the door closed was still possible…and everything would be back on track. Aren’t we just the bright-eyed optimists?

Well, life doesn’t work that way. We missed the flight.

At Air France customer service, we learned our flying options that day were limited: either expensive Business Class seats at 4PM or overpriced Economy seats at 11 PM. We’d already lost every penny we spent on the non-refundable original tickets and fees, so neither choice sat well with us.

Our best recourse was to take the train. It would be more economical, more timely and a middle-finger to the “man” (Air France) taking the TGV rather than throwing more money their way. Train fare was less than €400 total for two first-class rail tickets and the arrival time in Bordeaux was 4:17 PM. Not only would we save a bundle, but we would be arriving in Bordeaux just 17 minutes after the next flight would just be leaving Paris. Plus the train station was located right there in the air terminal.

So, here I sit (and Rob naps), typing away as we travel at 196 mph on the rails to Bordeaux. I don’t want to tempt fate, but let’s hope these trials were enough of a transportation snafu for one vacation.

LATER IN THE DAY

Our TGV was a non-stop express between Massy and Bordeaux so it was an easy, breezy trip. While we were en route, I was contacted via text by a driver, Wilfried, who was being sent from Château Teyssier to pick us up and bring us to the estate.

The Bordeaux train station is a cavernous space with hordes of travelers and commuters bustling about. (I love European train travel!) It took a few minutes for us to get our bearings trying to locate Wilfried and his Mercedes Classe V minivan. Fortunately, he’d given us the license number of the vehicle. The drive took less than an hour, even with Wilfried taking an alternative, more picturesque route.

Finally, hours later than originally scheduled, we arrived at Château Teyssier, the St. Émilion home of British winemaker Jonathan Maltus, his wife Catherine, son Jack and their two marvelous dogs: Napa (a vizsla-rottweiller mix) and Bordeaux (a black labrador).

The rest of our group was already sampling from an assortment of whites and rosés while noshing on assorted charcuterie. Exhausted as we were from having traveled for almost 24 hours straight, we were nonetheless elated to have finally reached our destination and enthusiastically joined in with everyone else.

The château’s inner court

Our gracious hosts

While the food was delightful, I found myself beyond exhausted. I politely excused myself before dessert (Yes, I skipped dessert, if you can imagine that!) and went to bed.