Bordeaux and back

I had to go to Bordeaux on a business trip last week. I was there to assist with an audit for a prior joint venture the company had – there were some costs in dispute with Exxon and, with oil companies, the money involved soon adds up pretty quickly.

The company booked an Air France fight for me from Geneva airport out to Bordeaux on the Atlantic holiday coast. It was a nice regional jetliner and the lady ‘of a certain age’ at check-in must have thought I was cute as she gave me a big smile and gave me the best seat right up front – almost like flying first class in an executive jet! Although it was more comfortable than flying Mil-Air choppers over Baghdad at rooftop height at 1:00am in blackout conditions, it certainly wasn't nearly as interesting!

The flight was simple enough and didn’t take overly long, but the long drive through dark coastal pine forests to the hotel on a dark moonless night had me scanning for Deer left and right (shades of ‘roo-spotting on country roads in Oz at dusk).

The building was huge but they had closed most of the operations in this regional city and relocated the majority of the staff. It was like a ghost–town – there were only a handful of people left and there were only two cleaning ladies otherwise shuttling steadily backward and forward emptying the contents of the dozens of now empty offices into either storage boxes or the dumpster outside.

The finance contacts we met were very business-like and sharp as a tack, but heck, good business doesn’t stop a Frenchman having a nice lunch and we spent a few pleasant days at the local brasserie eating way too much good food and wine at wonderful prices before getting back to the grindstone.

At one point soon after we entered on the first day, this barrel-shaped Frenchman with a walrus moustache and huge hands came out and starting shaking my hand (and the rest of me up and down) and wishing me ‘bonjour’, ‘bienvenue’, and ‘bon apetit’. I must have had this stunned mullet look on my face that said ‘who the heck is this strange man shaking me up and down?’ One of our hosts said ‘Ah, zat is ze chef – he likes to say hello to special guests!’ The bonhomie and cooking was certainly darn good because the place was packed every day. As they say - never trust a skinny cook!

Wednesday was a late afternoon flight back from Bordeaux that I almost didn’t make after trying to negotiate the monstrously large car park where I had to return the AVIS rental – but as it turns out the flight was delayed for 20 minutes anyway. The only other car park I have seen of such huge proportions was in Baltimore airport when I used to go and see my American ex-girlfriend. Man that thing was the size of Maine and had bus routes to get you back to the terminal!

Back to the office for Thursday and Friday and heap of emails (and much smaller lunches!). I may have to go back again this week and pass judgement on whether the claims have merit and should go to arbitration or not - quite a responsibility. Just hope I can handle the lunches!

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