In the Saint-Genès district of Bordeaux stands a mansion house with Victorian traits which wouldn’t look out of place in the UK. Today it is the regional head office of a trade union but the building is still known to many as Hôtel Exshaw, in reference to the man who commissioned its construction: the original owner Frédérick Exshaw. And the mansion has a virtual twin in the Médoc!

The Exshaw family were wealthy traders in cognacs and “eaux de vie” spirits who had permanently relocated from their native Ireland to Bordeaux in 1805. Frédérick was born in 1826 and, around the early 1880s, he commissioned architect Louis Michel Garros (best-known in Bordeaux as the man behind the 1865 fountain on Place du Parlement) to design a mansion inspired by the houses that were all the rage in Britain during this Victorian era.

People who go googling for “free walking tours of Bordeaux” can rejoice: the four walking tours conceived by Invisible Bordeaux are now available as free PDF downloads.

The tours, which were previously available as applications for iPhones and iPads, aim to provide visitors (and locals!) with interesting itineraries through the city that take in a host of sights of architectural, historical and cultural significance.

Let's rewind 100 years to 1914 and Place Jean-Jaurès in central Bordeaux (known at the time as Place Richelieu), where the lens of the postcard photographer has been pointed at the focal point of the square, the bronze statue of late president Sadi Carnot.

The statue was inaugurated in September 1896, two short years after President Carnot’s death. It was the result of the combined work of the sculptor Louis Ernest Barrias, the architect Jean-Louis Pascal and the Barbedienne foundry. The project was funded by public donations and by grants allocated by the city council and the State ministry for “Instruction Publique et des Beaux-Arts”. In all, the bill came to some 42,567 francs.

The subject of the statue had been the fourth president of the Third French Republic from 1887 until his assassination in 1894, aged 57. Marie François Sadi Carnot, nephew of the prominent physicist Nicolas Léonard Sadi Carnot, led a distinguished political career as prefect of Seine-Inférieure then as member of the French National Assembly for the Côte-d’Or department. He subsequently graduated to the ministry of Finance before assuming the country’s highest office, his tenure coinciding with the 1889 centenary of the French Revolution, the opening that same year of the Exposition Universelle in Paris and the 1892 Panama corruption scandals. He died in Lyon in June 1894, stabbed by an Italian anarchist. The assassination aroused much shock and horror and Carnot was honoured with a funeral at the Panthéon in Paris on July 1st 1894.

Place Richelieu as it was then, and Place Jean-Jaurès as it is now.

Two of Sadi Carnot’s main appearances in Bordeaux have already featured on the blog: on April 27th 1888 he inaugurated the (original) replica of the Statue of Liberty on Place Picard, during a ceremony which lasted all of five minutes. Also in 1888, he officially opened the Parc Bordelais, the creation of which had been made possible by the legacy of philanthropist Camille Godard.

The statue as it looked in 1914 and the view from the same vantage point 100 years later. Where have all the shutters gone?

A short speech made by Carnot during a banquet held in Bordeaux, once more in 1888 (it is unclear whether all these events took place on the same day!), included the following declaration, saluting the Republican values of la Gironde: “Je suis ici sur la terre classique de la Liberté et le cœur de la population girondine proteste contre tout ce qui pourrait servir les intérêts ou encourager les espérances des ennemis de la République.” (I find myself in the land of Liberty and the heart of the Girondin people seeks to protest against anything which might serve the interests or encourage the aspirations of enemies of the Republic.)

The message was considered significant enough to feature on the statue itself, engraved on the tablet on which rested the left hand of the female figure, who symbolised history.  Her right arm held aloft a golden palm leaf, reaching up towards Carnot. Also at the foot of the monument was a child holding a bunch of everlastings (immortelles in French, i.e. Helichrysum).

Close-up views of the figures at the base of the monument.

The statue remained in place until 1941 and the wartime requisition of non-ferrous metals, which were to be melted down and transformed into weaponry. At the time, Bordeaux's chief city architect noted that the monument “peut disparaître sans regret” (could be removed and would not be missed). Hence the current incarnation of Place Jean-Jaurès, and the open space where the statue previously stood for 45 years…

With my friend Anthony Poulachon, we photoshopped the monument back into the modern-day environment!

 > Find it (well, you won't find the statue there anymore) on the Invisible Bordeaux map: Former site of Sadi Carnot monument, Place Jean-Jaurès, Bordeaux.

> Much of this story has been pieced together from the information available on this e-monumen.net page.  
> Ce dossier est également disponible en français !

Cours Gallieni was historically one of the main arteries into and out of Bordeaux, forming the main road to Pessac and the primary escape route to Arcachon. As such it was no doubt a highly strategic spot in terms of advertising potential and many vintage wall-painted signs and ads can still be seen today. Let me take you down because we’re going to... Cours Gallieni to view its ghost signs galore! 

Meet Jérôme Mabon, creator of the États Critiques movie review blog and occasional contributor to Bordeaux cultural webzine Happe:n. Jérôme also happens to be physically disabled and kindly agreed to provide me with a personal guided tour of Bordeaux as viewed through the eyes of a wheelchair user.

We arranged to meet up at one of Jérôme’s favourite (and accessible) bars, the legendary Chez Auguste on Place de la Victoire, where we discussed Bordeaux’s ranking in the annual “Baromètre de l’Accessibilité” as drawn up by the Association des Paralysés de France. The city currently lies 13th in the table which is topped by Grenoble, Nantes and Caen: “Bordeaux has its shortcomings and there is definite room for improvement, but I do think that position is a bit harsh. On the whole, I’m satisfied by what has been done in the city.”

The weather was hot on Sunday July 17th 1853 as the first train from Paris pulled into Gare d’Orléans (later also known as Gare Bordeaux-Bastide), some thirteen hours and seven minutes after leaving France’s capital city. The journey may have been long but it was far shorter than the only other option available at the time: a 44-hour ride in a horse-drawn stagecoach.

The travellers were understandably tired but undoubtedly happy to have arrived at their south-western destination… although they would still have to cross the bridge to reach Bordeaux proper; at the time the right-bank Bastide quarter was technically part of Cenon. The Bastide district had already made giant leaps forward with the opening of the Pont de Pierre in 1822, and now the new station would help it blossom further.

We are in a residential quarter in the suburb of Eysines, barely 300 metres from the town’s parish church. The unusual thing about the quiet neighbourhood is that it was the location of a camp which operated throughout the Second World War. 

The history of the camp is poorly documented. By far the most complete account I was able to find was on the previous version of the Porte du Médoc website, where a chronological overview was coupled with some eye-witness testimonials. Sifting through the information available there and elsewhere, here are the basic facts. 

The construction of the 21-barrack camp was initiated by the French State in 1939. The plans had been triggered by the outbreak of war and the camp was originally designed to house civilians who had been drafted in to work at the gunpowder factory in Saint-Médard-en-Jalles, a short train journey away. This explains the location of the camp, close to Eysines railway station (and therefore the Bordeaux-Lacanau railway line, which is now a popular cycle path that has already been featured on the blog).

What used to be Eysines railway station, now a private home.

When the June 1940 armistice was signed, the camp was still not complete and the Germans took over the project, hooking it up to the electrical grid and bringing in running water (nearby homes also benefited from the work). Meanwhile, the camp’s raison d’être shifted from gunpowder factory-workers (none of whom were ever based there) to other categories of tenants, the first of whom arrived during the late summer months of 1940.

They were, in all likelihood, Spanish refugees followed closely by families who had been deported by the Germans from the Alsace-Lorraine region, and were now awaiting repatriation. They were free to come and go as they pleased and were protected by a small number of armed German soldiers. It is unclear what became of these refugees from the following winter onwards. Around that time, on the night of December 8th 1940, a number of Allied bombs fell nearby. It is thought that the camp may have been among the targets that night, along with Mérignac air base and the Port of Bordeaux.

The entrance to the camp was around this spot on Rue Déès. Note the spire of Eysines church in the distance.

Security at the camp then moved up a gear with the introduction of barbed wire fences and manned watchtowers ahead of the arrival of Senegalese troops, held within the camp and employed to build Atlantikwall bunkers and install telephone cables around Bordeaux, Blanquefort and Le Taillan. Details from then on are distinctly sketchy but around 1943, subsequent to Italy’s armistice with the Allies, most of the Italian marines based in Bordeaux switched their allegiance to Germany. Those who didn’t were held as prisoners of war and detained here in Eysines…

Source: Porte du Médoc,
full-size version here.

The following year marked the “libération” of France and the Eysines camp was used to hold German and Italian prisoners of war… before becoming a “camp de femmes”. The former Résistants had gained control and were intent on tracking down compatriots who had collaborated with the enemy. Women who had developed ties with Germans had their heads shaved and were paraded in front of crowds of onlookers, before being held prisoner at Eysines. This state of affairs was as short-lived as the previous episodes: by October 1945, just two female prisoners remained.

Finally, the camp was taken over by the Ministère des Colonies and became home to Indochinese (Vietnamese) workers who had initially been brought over to mainland France to provide extra manpower. Of France’s 27,000 wartime Indochinese immigrants, it is thought that 2,000 worked at the Saint-Médard gunpowder factory! Repatriation measures were long and drawn out and, from 1945 to 1946 and possibly 1947, many were lodged at the Eysines camp, receiving rations from the French State which caused much envy among the locals.  

The Indochinese were the camp’s final residents and over the ensuing years the area developed into the residential quarter we can see today. It is said that nothing remains of the camp other than a small stretch of wall in a private garden! The main entrance to the camp on Rue du Déès is now someone’s driveway… 

A reminder that the cycle path is not far away.

There is therefore little evidence to be uncovered of the wartime camp, which now appears to be little more than a footnote in the wartime history of the area; but for many individuals it surely formed the backdrop to what must have been a pivotal chapter in their lives.

> Find it on the Invisible Bordeaux map: the main entrance was near 4 Rue du Déès and the camp extended between Rues de Marne, du Vignan and Aladin Miqueau, Eysines; former Eysines railway station.

> Read the eye-witness testimonials on the Porte du Médoc website here. 

During my time documenting the Bordeaux area, I’ve done my best to uncover some of the city’s best-kept secrets, and Parc Rivière is one such example of the lesser-known jewels in the Bordeaux crown.

This ten-acre landscaped park (that’s four hectares) lies between the bourgeois houses of the Tivoli quarter and the high-rise blocks of the Grand-Parc district. It is, in effect, land which has been reclaimed from a bourgeois mansion built in the 19th century, the ruins of which form the centrepiece of the park.

Over recent months I’ve become a loyal reader of one of the city’s most likeable blogs: www.bordeaux2066.com. The concept is simple: the two authors have taken it upon themselves to visit and document every street, road, cul-de-sac and square in Bordeaux, using an Excel spreadsheet to choose at random which of the 2,066 addresses is next on their list.

The 20-something Bordeaux-based urban explorers are Vincent Bart (also known as Vinjo, brought up in Gradignan in the city’s suburbs) and Pierre-Marie Villette (or Pim, hailing originally from Lille). They launched the website in June 2013 and have so far visited just over 20 of the city’s streets; if they were to continue visiting one street every week, it would take them 39 years to complete their task.

Shortly after launching this website I headed over to the Lac district of Bordeaux to get an idea of where the city would be building its new 43,000-seater arena, set to form the backdrop to the endeavours of footballers, rugby players and international music stars in the years to come.

At the time it took a great deal of imagination to picture a stadium rising above the trees but now, a little over a year ahead of delivery, the skyline has indeed changed beyond recognition.

For many locals, a day spent in downtown Bordeaux is synonymous with a shopping trip in the Rue Sainte-Catherine quarter, but if you peel away the uniform corporate logos there are some interesting stories to tell.

With this is mind, fellow blogger MystickTroy and I went in search of the department stores of yesteryear with the aim of understanding how strong the influence of the shops of the past continues to be. The account of our quest, which we have jointly published on our respective blogs, starts out at Galeries Lafayette…

Invisible Bordeaux was one of a number of contributors to a lengthy report about the city broadcast by national TV station TF1 during the lunchtime news programme on Sunday March 9th. 

In the feature, I demonstrate my thorough knowledge of Bordeaux's extensive history by referring to some medieval cobblestones and a wall as being "very old" (the kind of expert analysis which loyal readers have come to expect).

It was a bad hair day (I've since been to the hairdresser's), my name is misspelled in the caption, but all in all it was an interesting experience and such prime-time exposure is very much appreciated, so big thanks to TF1 and to journalist Erwan Braem for getting in touch!

• You can view the report by clicking here.

A mansion in Lormont, just off a narrow road which runs alongside the A10 motorway, forms the backdrop to what is undoubtedly one of the most unusual attractions in the Bordeaux area: le Musée National de l’Assurance Maladie.

The museum, which opened in 1989, is the only one of its kind in France. It provides an extensive historical overview of the country’s national healthcare system for three target audiences: schoolchildren and students, the general public, and staff of the CPAM (Caisse Primaire d’Assurance Maladie) healthcare fund institution itself.

The spectacular château alone deserves a visit. Known as Les Lauriers, it was built in 1860 and initially belonged to a wealthy dynasty of shipowners, the Gradis family. The Gironde branch of CPAM acquired the property in 1948, converting it into a convalescent home from 1951 onwards. In later years, new facilities were built in the adjacent park, freeing up the mansion to be converted into a museum.

The museum aims to take the visitor on a journey through time. The visit starts out with the beginnings of “la protection sociale” and particularly the development of “sociétés de secours mutuels” in the 19th century, moving on to the first laws passed in the early 20th century, the introduction of the social security system from 1945 onwards, and the development of the system from 1967 up to the present day. This is illustrated by displays featuring hundreds of archive items and documents.

Highlights on the tour include a surprising mock-up of a social security centre as it looked in the 1950s and 1960s, complete with authentic props such as vintage typewriters, telephones, switchboards and rubber stamps. It is tempting to role-play the part of a member of the public meeting staff, filing paperwork and then shuffling over to the counter to obtain the much-desired financial compensation!

An entire room has been given over to the tools of the trade for CPAM employees down the years, from archaic calculators (including a couple of legendary Burroughs adding machines) and punch card technology to some monstrously large rudimentary computers and contemporary “Carte Vitale” electronic chip card readers.

Another room showcases typical CPAM initiatives such as poster campaigns and medical examination centres. The most impressive exhibit is a dentist’s chair which no doubt welcomed many a grimacing patient over the years.

Some of the museum’s more bizarre exhibits include ghostly mannequins sporting designer uniforms, symbolising a policy aimed at “humanising” the institution, making it more welcoming and appealing to the general public. Appropriately enough, the mannequins have been positioned at the entrance to the visit.

As well as a visitor booklet, a high-tech audio-guide is available free of charge at reception, to add a further dimension to the tour. The descriptive narration is coupled with authentic eye-witness testimonials by CPAM staff.

The museum does feel like a well-kept secret; it currently welcomes around 1,600 visitors annually. Its niche appeal is undeniable but there is definitely an audience out there. To reach prospective visitors, director Emmanuelle Saujeon-Roque is developing the museum’s presence on the internet, with an extensive website (featuring videos, a snazzy virtual visit and a host of interactive features) and a Facebook page. The added exposure should deservedly draw new visitors to this unique museum. 

> Find it on the Invisible Bordeaux map: Musée National de l'Assurance Maladie, Château des Lauriers, 10 route de Carbon-Blanc, Lormont 

> The museum is open to the general public from Monday to Friday, 2pm-6pm (5pm on Fridays). Admission is free of charge. 
> Museum website: www.musee-assurance-maladie.fr 
> And Facebook page.

If you follow Invisible Bordeaux on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram, you may already be aware of the fact that the blog was featured this week in local newspaper Direct Matin Bordeaux7.

The interview provides a thumbnail introduction to the story behind the website and its philosophy, as well as pointing readers towards other likeminded online resources! 

Big thanks to Direct Matin Bordeaux7 journalist Emeline Marceau for getting in touch and for producing the item! 

• You can read the full article online here or else in the PDF version of the newspaper. 

We find ourselves in a run-down part of a Leclerc shopping centre in the Chartrons district of Bordeaux. The building in question used to be one of the city’s railway stations: Gare Saint-Louis.

Invisible Bordeaux first encountered Gare Saint-Louis when researching the cycle path which runs all the way to Lacanau. The cycle path replaced a railway line which previously departed from Gare Saint-Louis. The station’s other destinations included Bordeaux Saint-Jean and the Médoc wine-growing area.

These are difficult times for independent bookstores, but one shop which continues to weather the storm is Bradley’s, the only English-language bookshop in Bordeaux and one of the city’s most respected literary outlets. On a suitably rainy Saturday morning, I met Anne-Françoise Mazeau, who owns and runs the business, and long-time attendant Juline Druillole to learn more about Bradley’s past, present and future.

Bradley’s was founded in 1983 by a couple of expatriate Australians, Pauline and Paul Carpenter. They moved into premises on Place Gambetta and, instead of simply calling it “Carpenter’s”, opted to give the brand new bookshop Pauline’s maiden name: Bradley. The Carpenters spent 20 years at the helm of the store until their retirement in 2003, when the business was taken over by Englishman Terry Vincent.

My Invisible Paris and Invisible Lyon counterparts and I regularly look to old postcards as a source of inspiration for subjects which end up being featured on our blogs. Therefore, without really trying, I appear to be slowly amassing a bona fide collection of interesting pictures of Bordeaux as it used to be.

The following all show various views of the waterfront, demonstrating how much it changed throughout the 20th century, and how much it has evolved in recent years with the city “reclaiming” the quayside for pedestrians, cyclists and rollerbladers, and installing the popular “Miroir d’Eau” attraction.

A name that seems etched into the collective consciousness of La-Teste-de-Buch, on the southern ridge of the Bassin d’Arcachon, is that of Dr Jean Hameau, whose research paved the way for the scientific achievements of Louis Pasteur.

Hameau was born in La Teste itself on October 5th 1779 in a small house located on what is now Rue du 14 Juillet. His father, André, was a local tailor who had married Jeanne Labouroir from Dax, further south in the Landes area. Aged just 16, Hameau began his medical studies under the guidance of one Dr Desquives in Ychoux, a few kilometres to the east of Biscarrosse. Two years later, in 1797, he departed for Paris, pursuing his studies at École de Santé de Paris where he spent four years and contributed to an initiative known as the “Centre de la Vaccine”.