Bordeaux Brandon
The view from the heights of Saint-Émilion.
Arriving in Bordeaux
There’s something about landing in Bordeaux that makes your shoulders drop before your suitcase even hits the rental car. The air is soft, the pace is slower, and the whole region feels like it’s been intentionally edited for peace.
But Saint-Émilion was where the magic settled in. A ribbon of road leading to a stone château, vines lined in perfect rows, and sunlight catching everything just right. I walked down that path with my arms open, smiling like the land was welcoming me home.
It’s wild how far you can travel from the place where you started and how deeply you can feel that distance in a quiet moment.
Hanging out in Saint-Émilion.
A Stay on the Vineyard Itself
We stayed on a working vineyard — stone walls, green shutters, and that hush that lives in the countryside before the world wakes up. Every morning felt like a soft reset.
On our last day, our hosts opened a bottle of their rosé for us — bright, crisp, easy in that very French way. One sip and we knew. We ordered more to ship back to Chicago to split with a friend. And that final bottle they poured? We drank it during our last meal in the château, a quiet, grateful toast before packing up.
There was something perfect about that — discovering a wine at the end of the trip and deciding it belonged in our real lives too.
Our chateau for the long weekend.
E-Biking Through Saint-Émilion
We explored Saint-Émilion by e-bike — the only civilized way to handle hills that look pretty but do not care about your fitness level. No strain, no sweat, just gliding through medieval lanes, vineyards, stone staircases, and rooftops that look hand-painted.
The e-bikes made the whole trip softer: we could stop at wineries, taste what we liked, and roll off again without our bodies filing complaints. Tell me that’s not living well.
One of my favorite tables of all time, before the wine.
Dinner at Le Tertre
Le Tertre sits right in the heart of Saint-Émilion — warm lighting, stone walls, and that quiet confidence of a restaurant that knows exactly what it’s doing.
Dinner felt like a conversation between the ingredients and the place itself:
A vivid green soup that tasted like spring distilled.
Fish cooked with such care it made me sit up straighter.
Sauces painted on the plate with intention, not ego.
Wine pairings that finished the story.
Thoughtful. Warm. Unpretentious. A reminder that good food doesn’t have to shout.
Image Block:
– Tables, alleys, or Saint-Émilion ambiance
One of seven perfect courses for Rachelle’s birthday.
A Soft Afternoon in Bordeaux
After all that countryside quiet, Bordeaux felt like a gently awakened city — golden stone buildings catching the last of the light, wide boulevards, people strolling like they actually enjoy their lives.
Right before we left, I met an old college friend for a quick lunch. She lives in Bordeaux now, and you can tell the softer life truly agrees with her — the pace, the beauty, the room to breathe. Seeing her thriving in a place that clearly fits her was its own kind of joy. I left that lunch full in a different way.
In the middle of Bordeaux.
What Stayed With Me
This trip wasn’t about souvenirs. We didn’t bring home a single bottle from the vineyard. We drank what we loved while we were there.
The real luxury wasn’t the wine, or the architecture, or even the food. It was the ease:
E-biking through the vines,
long meals without checking the time,
quiet mornings in a stone house,
and seeing a friend choose a life that fits her beautifully.
I’ve come a long way from Racine, and I don’t have to perform gratitude. I just feel it and I carry it with me.
Saint-Émilion softened me. Bordeaux steadied me.
And I came home a little clearer, a little calmer, and very aware that the life I want is one where ease isn’t a reward, it’s a choice.
And it was.
