Julie O'Donoghue, who lives in France, has a different take on Bordeaux, our citybreak destination last week.
I've spent two weekends in Bordeaux in the past 14 months. The first was in June 2007. We live about 360km (225m) from Bordeaux, and went there by train. We found an overpriced modern hotel the first night, not far from the station. You know the sort of thing - worn carpets, smell of smoke everywhere. The second night we found something a bit cheaper. The less said about this experience the better.
When we were in Bordeaux the wine festival was on. We looked at it from a distance, soaking in the atmosphere and the smells. We walked miles, visited the cathedral, the Église St Michel and its square, and the Musée de l'Aquitaine. We dined in an organic vegetarian restaurant, Croq'Bio, where, thank God, you wouldn't bump into Nicolas Sarkozy, Johnny Hallyday, Patrick Poivre d'Arvor or any of their ilk.
Our second visit was at the beginning of January. Our son had gone to Bordeaux in September to study theatre at the university. We thought we were lucky. He had been allocated a room in a university residence, but we had got a bit anxious before Christmas when he complained of rain coming down the walls, so we decided to accompany him back after the Christmas holidays.
When we got there, after an arduous journey by car, the accommodation seemed to be in a deplorable state. The door was hanging off its frame. The window frame was also becoming perilously detached from the wall. Worst of all was the black mould all over the walls. We complained, and perhaps it had some effect: a few days later our son was offered a slightly better room.
On that occasion, by the way, walking near the tram station we noticed what looked like a bundle of old clothes on the pavement. It was, in fact, a person. Later we gave a lift to a delirious bag lady, just out of the Formule 1 hotel, looking for a social-security office. Then we passed the caserne des pompiers, or flats where firemen live, which seemed almost as grotty as the student residence.
Alain Juppé, mayor of Bordeaux and a former prime minister of France, knows there's no political gain to be made from looking after firemen or poor students or down-and-outs. The priority is to dazzle with wonders like the miroir d'eau, a large sheet of water on the quays that reflects the centre-city lights and produces clouds of vapour and miniature fountains.
In my opinion, what you'll see most of in Bordeaux are temporary employment agencies. There seem to be several on every street, although perhaps not near the Golden Triangle, but you won't meet Sarkozy or Carla or Johnny there, either, unless things change very radically.