The Familiar Unknown

Garage Clothing coat (c/o Ivanhoe Cambridge)
Gap top
Mavi jeans (c/o)
Jonak mules (similar)
Louis Vuitton handbag
RayBan sunglasses
Delphine Pariente ring (similar)
Madewell rings
Urban Outfitters earrings (similar)
Location: Rue des Bahutiers – Bordeaux, France

Dear friends,

I’ve never been to Bordeaux before today. I explained that earlier this week. But the city feels instantly familiar when we walk out of Gare Saint-Jean. I’ve been writing about this station, and the streets that lead away from it, for years. My characters inhabit this city, and I’ve walked these streets in my imagination over and over again. The buildings are not quite as tall as I envisioned them to be, but otherwise, I knew exactly what to expect.

Ilari and Gen live just down the street from this station. If you’ve read my books, you might know them. Amaia visits them here often. When I crane my neck, I can just see their front door in the distance.

The tram is not running – we discover that only after buying tickets, of course. So we walk. I know the way without knowing it, taking turns down streets I can’t possibly recognise but can somehow identify. Bordeaux is the familiar unknown for me, a place I’ve never been but have studied for so long, where the line between what I’ve read in books and know to be real blurs with what I’ve imagined so near accurately, leaving me with the impression that I’ve been here before, despite knowing, rationally, that I have not.

My research leads us to our hotel without a single false step. It is everything I dreamed it would be, but we don’t pause to enjoy it for long – we’re in Bordeaux mostly for the photo opportunities, admittedly, and with the sun shining, we don’t want to waste a moment.

While we wander the streets, seeking the perfect old doors and vintage signs, I have the distinct impression of walking in the footsteps of someone whose life I know is little more than a figment of my imagination but that, in many ways, feels as real as my own. I’ve spent more than half my life with Amaia, and while she will never be more than words on a page, she is still my constant companion. Growing up, I had imaginary friends. As an adult, I apparently still have one – she is just more legitimate because she is a literary character. I know which of these streets she would walk if she really lived here; I look into cafes and know immediately if she would like them or roll her eyes at their trendy decor.

And I discover, quickly, why she is so often bored here and longing to return to Paris. Within the hour, we’ve taken our photos and determine we might as well stop for lunch. We choose a bistro that I could never have imagined, that feels so improbable in France that it almost makes me laugh – Kitchen Garden, an entirely vegetarian cafe decorated in all white, with the same tile floor we have in our kitchen at home. Bordeaux may feel familiar in many ways, but I acknowledge that we still have much to discover here. And when I get home, I will add those discoveries to Amaia’s story, reimagining her life once again.