Storms have played a large role during our time here in Bordeaux. In January, I vaguely blogged about the "epic storm with gale-force winds," which does not give enough credit to what it actually was. The tempête, literally the tempest, battered southwest France and apparently killed 26 people (thanks, Google). The night it happened we were at a party. Laura and I were driven home the next morning because the tram wasn't working, and it was chaos. Looking out the window of our friend's apartment, you could see people walking by, blown almost horizontal by the wind, black umbrellas flipped the wrong way. On the drive home, there was trash everywhere from garbage cans who had been blown over by the storm. Car windows were smashed in by parts of roofs that had been whipped off. Giant tall trees were competely uprooted, collapsed onto the streets. I was dropped off a few blocks away from where I live, and I ran home because I was so terrified of dying from something falling on my head.
The second storm happened February 9th, a day I remember well. It was the first time I left the house in 11 days after I broke my ankle. Despite my host mom's frustrated warnings about the storm, I put on a jacket, hopped onto crutches and went to the Cock and Bull for quiz night and beer. When the rain started falling I pulled up my hood and kept on walking because I didn't have a free hand for an umbrella. The storm wasn't nearly as bad as the first one, but it's still one I'll always remember.
I hope this one is a big one.
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