Bordeaux by Teekay Rezeau-Merah

Living in Bordeaux, mostly pros and some cons

Bordeaux was never the plan

I never planned on living in Bordeaux.

Like, at all.

I never thought it would become anything close to “home” either. Actually, I don’t even really know what home means.

Not in a fake deep way.

Not in the cliché traveler way where people say “home is wherever the heart is” and then post a picture of an airport window or whatever.

I mean it literally.

I’ve moved too much, traveled too much and lived in too many different places to tie that word neatly to one city, one country, one childhood street or one fixed point on a map.

Some people have that.

A place they come from.

A place that explains them.

A place they can point to and say, yeah, that’s home.

I don’t really have that.

So when I say Bordeaux became important to me, I don’t mean it became home in the normal sense.

I just mean it’s one of the rare places where staying made sense.

And for me, that’s already a lot.

What living in Bordeaux is actually like

I’ve lived in and around Bordeaux for years now, after living in places like New York, Barcelona, Lyon, Buenos Aires, Sydney, Addis Ababa, Penang and Hong Kong.

So this isn’t a tourist guide.

It’s not a “48 hours in Bordeaux” thing.

It’s not about where to take cute pictures, where to drink wine or which square looks best on Instagram.

This is a personal look at what living in Bordeaux is actually like. The beauty, the comfort, the cost, the rain, the summer heat, the transport, the vegan options, the access to nature and the strange feeling of a city that somehow made sense to me.

Somehow, over the years, Bordeaux ended up being the place I stayed the longest.

Funny how these things play out.

What’s also interesting is that it wasn’t because I woke up one day and thought, yes, this is the city where I’m going to build my life.

It just kept making sense to stay a little longer.

Then a little longer again.

I’ve been in France on and off for around 20 years now, which is actually mad when I write it down. At one point I studied in Lyon and listen, Lyon is beautiful. I’m not one of those people who pretends a city is ugly just because I didn’t connect with it.

Lyon has history, architecture, culture, food, all that heavy old French city stuff.

But I never felt that comfortable there.

In fact, when I left Lyon, I genuinely thought I was done with France entirely.

Then one day I drove through Bordeaux and that was kind of it.

Immediate click.

No long intellectual analysis.

No checklist.

No “let me compare quality of life, transport, rent and cultural infrastructure.”

Just a feeling.

Like, ok, I get this place.

That’s it.

And I don’t get many places like that.

The feeling of Bordeaux

Bordeaux is beautiful, but not in a loud way.

That’s probably one of the main reasons I like it.

It doesn’t scream at you.

It’s not trying to be Paris. It’s not trying to impress you with giant towers, endless glass buildings or some fake futuristic skyline.

There are no skyscrapers eating the sky.

No weird corporate city-centre energy making you feel like you accidentally walked into someone’s LinkedIn profile.

There’s light.

There’s air.

There are streets that don’t feel like they’re closing in on you.

If you’ve lived in big cities, you know how quickly you can lose the sky. Everything becomes concrete, traffic, glass, noise, pigeons, people walking too fast, cars everywhere, buildings blocking every bit of openness.

Bordeaux doesn’t feel like that.

At least not to me.

It feels softer.

The town hall is genuinely beautiful. The old churches too. The bridges, the stone buildings, the river, the way the city catches light when the weather changes.

Walking around the centre feels visually calm in a way most cities don’t.

Not perfect.

Not magical.

Just soft.

And I like that.

The best things about living in Bordeaux

One of the best things about Bordeaux is that it feels small enough to understand, but not so small that it feels completely closed.

A lot of people in Bordeaux aren’t even really from Bordeaux. They come from nearby towns, the Arcachon Bay, Paris, other parts of France and sometimes somewhere else entirely, like me.

So the city has this mixed energy.

It feels medium-sized, but socially bigger than it looks on paper.

Not too provincial.

Not too massive.

Not too stuck in itself.

That works for me.

Culture is everywhere too, but again, not in a try-hard way.

Montaigne, Montesquieu, Mauriac, universities, opera, theatres. That whole old intellectual background is just there. And yeah, that sounds a bit like something from a tourist office brochure, but you do feel it.

Not every day.

Not every second.

But it sits in the background.

Also, random fact, Bordeaux was the capital of France three times.

Most people don’t know that.

I love facts like that.

Nature, ocean and weekend escapes

Honestly, one of the best things about living in Bordeaux is how easily you can leave it.

Which sounds like an insult, but it really isn’t.

The ocean is just over an hour away.

And not the kind of beach where you’ve got buildings stacked behind the sand, overpriced ice cream stands and people sitting on top of each other.

I’m talking long Atlantic coastlines, dunes, pine forests, surf towns, wind, space.

A completely different rhythm.

You leave the city and suddenly your body remembers that life doesn’t have to feel so tight all the time.

Further south you’ve got the Pyrenees. Sure, they’re about a 3-hour drive away, but still, close enough for a weekend getaway.

Mountains, lakes, hikes, waterfalls, caves, little villages.

A totally different landscape again.

And if you drive inland, say to the Dordogne, you find quiet villages, old mills, open plains and places where everything slows down without asking for permission.

Bordeaux is one of those cities where a short drive can completely change your environment.

That matters to me.

I need nature around me.

Not as an aesthetic.

Not as a weekend hobby.

I genuinely think I get tense without it.

Transport, walking and cycling

Travel is surprisingly easy for a city this size.

You’ve got flights to a lot of major European cities. Paris, London, Lisbon, Madrid, Barcelona, Rome, Istanbul and more.

North Africa is close too, especially Morocco.

Then the TGV gets you to Paris in about two hours, which still feels a bit unreal when you think about it.

From there, everything connects.

You’ve also got trains to Toulouse, Nantes, La Rochelle and other places, plus coaches if you want to travel more slowly into Spain or Portugal.

The city gives you options.

I like places that give you options.

Inside Bordeaux itself, public transport is decent.

Not perfect.

Rush hour can be annoying. The tramway gets packed. Buses can be a bit much sometimes.

But overall, it works.

And the city is walkable, which changes everything.

A city you can walk through is not the same as a city you only pass through.

Cycling is easy too. You can get almost anywhere by bike, which makes owning one feel less like a lifestyle choice and more like common sense.

Just lock it properly.

Actually, lock it very properly.

Bike theft is real.

Weather in Bordeaux

The weather has its own personality.

It rains a lot.

Like, a lot.

People complain about it, but I’ve never really hated Bordeaux rain. Most of the time it doesn’t feel violent or miserable. Not to me anyway.

It feels more like a reset.

Like the city needed to rinse itself off a little.

Summers though?

Yeah.

Summers can be rough.

Sometimes too hot.

I usually leave during peak heat when I can, because Bordeaux in a heatwave is not my favorite version of Bordeaux, that’s for sure.

That’s one thing people should know before moving here.

Bordeaux can look soft and elegant for most of the year, then suddenly become heavy, hot and uncomfortable in summer.

Still beautiful.

But sweaty.

Daily life in Bordeaux

The centre has character.

Small local shops, thrift stores, cafés, concept stores, cobblers, vinyl shops, second-hand electronics, markets.

There’s even a monthly vegan market, which is rare enough to matter in a city this size.

It’s relatively clean and relatively safe too.

People argue about safety a lot, especially online, because apparently everything has to become a dramatic debate now.

But in normal day-to-day life, compared to many urban places, Bordeaux still feels fairly balanced.

There’s greenery as well. Parks, trees, open little pockets of space.

Not enough trees in the very heart of the city in my opinion, and still too many cars, obviously.

But the base is solid.

It’s a city where you can have a normal day without feeling like the city is attacking your nervous system.

That might sound small.

It isn’t.

Cost of living and rent in Bordeaux

Now, let’s not romanticize it too much.

Bordeaux has problems.

Rent is ridiculous for what the city offers in terms of work.

That’s probably one of the biggest contradictions of living here.

The city became desirable, people came, prices went up and now you get this strange gap between the lifestyle Bordeaux sells and the economic reality many people actually live with.

It’s beautiful, yes.

It’s comfortable, yes.

But comfort is never neutral when people are priced out of it.

That’s the thing with cities like Bordeaux. They look soft from the outside, but they still carry all the usual pressures underneath.

Rent.

Work.

Class.

Tourism.

Gentrification.

The slow replacement of ordinary life by polished lifestyle.

It’s not Paris-level brutal, obviously.

But it’s there.

And if you’re thinking of moving to Bordeaux, you should know that the city can be expensive compared to the job opportunities available locally.

Beautiful cities always know how to charge for their beauty.

Vegan life in Bordeaux

Vegan life in Bordeaux is manageable, but limited.

That’s probably the most honest way to put it.

You can find options. You can eat out. You can shop. You can make it work.

But if you’re coming from bigger cities with stronger vegan scenes, Bordeaux will probably feel small.

Not impossible.

Just not abundant.

There’s a monthly vegan market, which I appreciate, and there are some good places around the city, but it’s not the kind of place where vegan food is everywhere without thinking.

You still have to look.

You still have to plan a little.

And sometimes you still end up eating fries and pretending that’s a meal.

It happens.

The downsides of living in Bordeaux

So no, Bordeaux isn’t perfect.

No city is.

Rent is too high.

Transport isn’t cheap.

Bike theft is very real.

Summers can be intense.

Vegan options are still limited compared to bigger cities.

There are still too many cars.

The centre needs more trees.

And there’s this strange seasonal emptiness where a lot of people leave during summer, especially since many residents aren’t originally from there.

The city kind of exhales and partially empties out.

Some people hate that.

I get it.

It can feel peaceful, but also a bit strange, like everyone quietly agreed to disappear at the same time.

Bordeaux can also feel a little too comfortable sometimes.

That might sound like a fake complaint, but I mean it.

Some cities push you. Some cities rough you up. Some cities force you into movement.

Bordeaux doesn’t always do that.

It can soften you.

Which is nice.

Until it isn’t.

So, is Bordeaux a good place to live?

Yes, if you want a beautiful, walkable, culturally rich French city with decent public transport, strong access to the ocean and nature, enough social life to not feel isolated and a softer rhythm than Paris.

No, or not easily, if you need cheap rent, strong local salaries, big-city vegan options, endless nightlife, reliable summer comfort or a city that feels fully alive all year.

For me, Bordeaux isn’t perfect.

But it’s one of the rare places where staying made sense.

And for someone like me, that’s not nothing.

Would I live in Bordeaux again?

Honestly, yes.

In fact, we’re just over an hour away.

I go back almost weekly to volunteer, see friends, run errands or just walk around for a few hours.

And every time, there’s still something.

Not home exactly.

But Bordeaux is one of the few places that ever made me understand why people use that word.

Maybe that’s enough.

If you want to read about another french city I lived in (Lyon), check this article out.

Peace!

Teekay

Life in Lyon, mostly pros and some cons

My Honest Experience After Three Years

Lyon was the city where I became an adult.

I moved there to study at university and stayed for three years. During those three years, I learned how to live on my own, manage money, make mistakes and figure out what kind of life I wanted.

Would I move back?

Probably not.

Would I recommend it?

Absolutely, to the right person.

Those two answers aren’t contradictory.

I’ve lived in several countries and cities since then, so I naturally compare Lyon with many other places. Looking back, I appreciate it much more today than I did while I was actually living there.

It’s not my favorite city in France.

It never felt like home.

But that’s okay.

Some cities aren’t meant to be your final destination. They’re meant to prepare you for whatever comes next.

Lyon did exactly that.

If you’re thinking about moving there, studying there or you’re simply curious about what everyday life is like, here’s my honest experience, the good, the bad and everything in between.

Big enough to keep you busy, small enough to breathe

One of the first things I appreciated about Lyon was its size.

It’s a proper city.

You’ll find concerts, museums, football matches, festivals, universities and pretty much everything you’d expect from one of France’s biggest urban areas.

Yet it never felt overwhelming.

I’ve spent time in cities where leaving the house already feels exhausting. Too many people. Too much traffic. Too much noise.

Lyon never gave me that feeling.

You can cross the city without turning it into an expedition. After a while, you start recognizing neighborhoods instead of feeling lost in them.

I think Lyon found a balance that many cities never do.

It’s large enough that you’ll rarely run out of things to do.

It’s small enough that everyday life still feels manageable.

Public transportation is one of Lyon’s biggest strengths

I’ve always believed that a good city is one where you don’t need to think about transportation.

Lyon is one of those cities.

The metro works.

The trams work.

The buses work.

The funicular still feels fun no matter how many times you take it.

Most days, I simply left my apartment and went wherever I needed without thinking twice about how I’d get there.

That’s probably the highest compliment I can give any transportation system.

I’ve lived in places where owning a car felt almost mandatory.

Lyon wasn’t one of them.

Even today, if someone asked me which French city impressed me most when it comes to public transportation, Lyon would easily make my shortlist.

Its location is almost unfair

If I had to choose Lyon’s biggest advantage, this would probably be it.

You’re close to almost everything.

The Alps.

Switzerland.

Italy.

Southern France.

Paris.

Whether you enjoy hiking, skiing or simply taking weekend trips, Lyon makes it ridiculously easy.

Some of my favorite memories from those three years weren’t actually in Lyon.

They were outside it.

I spent weekends hiking around Grenoble, exploring Annecy, discovering Aix-les-Bains and getting lost in places I’d never heard of before moving there.

Annecy quickly became one of my favorite places in France.

If you’ve never been, put it on your list.

Seriously.

Living in Lyon made all those trips possible.

Instead of spending every weekend in the same city, I could keep discovering somewhere new.

That suited me perfectly.

I’ve never been someone who enjoys staying in one place for too long.

Student life

Lyon has a reputation for being one of France’s best student cities.

From what I saw, it deserves it.

The universities attract students from all over France and abroad. There are always events happening, cafés full of students and plenty of nightlife if that’s your thing.

It wasn’t really mine.

I’ve never been much of a drinker.

While many of my classmates spent Thursday nights in bars, I was usually somewhere else.

Watching football.

Learning about investing.

Trying to earn money.

Or simply enjoying a quiet evening.

I had just left home, and my priorities were different.

I wanted to become independent.

I wanted to stop relying on my parents as quickly as possible.

So my experience of Lyon probably wasn’t the typical student experience.

That doesn’t mean the city lacked nightlife.

Quite the opposite.

It simply means I chose a different path.

And looking back, I wouldn’t change it.

The People

If there’s one thing I never fully connected with in Lyon, it was the people.

Before anyone gets offended, let me explain.

I’d lived in several countries across four continents by then (6 by now). Every place has its own personality, and every person experiences it differently. This is simply how I felt during my three years there.

Compared with other places I’d lived, people in Lyon often seemed more reserved. Conversations didn’t happen as naturally. Making friends took time.

That doesn’t mean people were cold.

In fact, once you got to know them, many were kind, loyal and welcoming.

The first step just felt a little harder.

Ironically, some of the friendliest interactions I had weren’t in the neighborhoods people usually recommend.

The neighborhoods everyone warned me about

Whenever Vénissieux or Les Minguettes came up, people usually had something negative to say.

Crime.

Poverty.

Avoid them.

That was the reputation.

Then I actually went there.

What I found were families doing their shopping, kids playing outside, neighbors talking to one another and people simply living their lives.

Were there problems?

Of course.

No one should pretend those neighborhoods don’t face real social and economic challenges.

But reducing entire communities to their crime statistics never sat right with me.

Those visits reminded me of something I’ve experienced in many countries.

Places are rarely as simple as their reputation.

Some of the wealthiest neighborhoods I’ve visited felt emotionally empty.

Some of the poorest felt surprisingly alive.

Lyon reinforced that lesson.

The city where I stopped eating meat

Most people associate Lyon with food.

It’s often called the gastronomic capital of France.

Ironically, it’s also where I stopped eating meat.

When I arrived in Lyon, I was still omnivorous. That said, I never really enjoyed meat.

I mostly ate it because everyone around me did.

Then I started having recurring digestive problems.

One day I simply thought:

Enough. Not because I knew it was the issue, simply because I stopped liking it.

To my surprise, many of my digestive problems disappeared.

At the time, I became pescatarian.

Years later, that decision eventually led me to veganism, but that’s another story for another day.

So whenever someone asks me about Lyon’s famous cuisine, I smile a little.

Most people remember Lyon because they discovered French food.

I remember it because I discovered I didn’t want to eat red meat anymore.

Funny how life works.

Cost of living

Lyon isn’t cheap.

Then again, compared with Paris, it almost feels affordable.

Housing was my biggest expense, just like it is for most people.

Finding an apartment wasn’t always easy either.

French administration loves paperwork.

Sometimes it feels like you need paperwork to prove you have paperwork.

If you’re moving from abroad, be prepared.

You’ll probably hear words like garant, dossier and justificatif more often than you’d like.

Once I got through all of that, everyday life became much easier.

Public transportation kept transportation costs low.

Walking was often faster than driving.

And because I wasn’t someone who spent every weekend partying, my student budget stretched surprisingly well.

My favorite places

Even years later, certain places immediately come back to me.

Fourvière

If you only visit one place in Lyon, make it Fourvière.

The basilica dominates the city, but honestly, I remember the view just as much as the building itself.

Standing up there, Lyon suddenly makes sense.

You can see how the city grew around the Rhône and the Saône.

It’s one of those places where you naturally slow down for a few minutes.

Vieux Lyon

Yes, it’s touristy.

Yes, you should still go.

I never got tired of wandering through its narrow streets.

Sometimes I’d intentionally take a different route just to see where I’d end up.

That’s usually the best way to explore old cities.

Parc de la Tête d’Or

I’ve always believed every city needs somewhere people can simply exist without spending money.

Parc de la Tête d’Or is that place.

You can walk.

Read.

Exercise.

Sit under a tree.

Or do absolutely nothing.

Cities need spaces like that.

Probably more than shopping malls.

Along the rivers

The Rhône and the Saône quietly became part of my routine.

Sometimes I’d walk for no particular reason.

Sometimes I’d stop and watch people cycling past.

Other times I’d just sit there.

Not every memorable place has to be spectacular.

Sometimes it’s enough that it makes you slow down.

Football

Anyone who knows me knew this section was coming.

Olympique Lyonnais was impossible to ignore while living there.

Watching matches at Gerland became part of my time in Lyon, I truly loved it.

Football has a way of connecting you to a city, even when you know you won’t stay forever.

What I didn’t love

As much as I appreciate Lyon today, I never felt a strong desire to stay.

Part of that had nothing to do with the city itself.

Even in my early twenties, I knew I wanted to keep exploring the world. Lyon was never meant to be my final destination. It was simply the next chapter.

The weather didn’t always help either.

If you enjoy long, sunny summers and mild winters, Lyon might disappoint you. Winters often felt gray, and snowy, and after a while I found myself craving the ocean.

That’s one of the reasons I eventually fell in love with southwest France.

I also never developed the emotional connection I later felt with other places.

Some cities grab you almost immediately.

Lyon never did that for me.

It earned my respect long before it earned my affection.

Looking back, those are two very different things.

Would I move back?

Probably not.

Not because there’s anything wrong with Lyon.

Simply because today I know what I’m looking for.

I need nature close by.

I prefer smaller cities.

I love being able to reach the ocean within minutes.

I enjoy quieter places where life feels a little slower.

Lyon doesn’t pretend to be that city, and I wouldn’t ask it to be.

That doesn’t make it worse.

It just makes it different.

So, who is Lyon actually for?

If you’re a student, I think Lyon is one of the best choices in France.

If you enjoy public transportation, you’ll probably love it.

If you like having concerts, museums, football matches and weekend trips all within easy reach, Lyon has a lot to offer.

If you enjoy hiking or skiing, its location alone is almost enough to convince you.

If you’re looking for your first experience living away from home, it’s a city where it’s relatively easy to become independent.

On the other hand, if your dream is living beside the sea, spending every weekend at the beach or escaping into nature within a few minutes, there are probably better places.

And if warm weather is essential to your happiness, Lyon’s winters may eventually wear you down.

Three years that changed me

When I moved to Lyon, I thought I was moving there to get a degree.

Looking back, I learned much more than what happened inside a classroom.

It’s where I learned how to live alone.

It’s where I started managing my own money.

It’s where I stopped eating meat after years of digestive problems and eventually began the journey that would later lead me to veganism.

It’s where I realized I cared more about freedom than status.

More about experiences than possessions.

More about discovering the world than settling in one place.

Lyon didn’t turn me into the person I am today.

But it helped shape that person.

For that, I’ll always be grateful.

Verdict

Would I recommend Lyon?

Yes.

Without hesitation.

Not because I think it’s the greatest city in France.

Not because it’s perfect.

No city is.

I’d recommend it because it’s a city that works.

It offers opportunities without the intensity of Paris.

It has excellent public transportation.

It’s beautiful without feeling like an open-air museum.

It’s surrounded by incredible places to discover.

And if you’re willing to make the effort, you can build a very good life there.

Would I choose to live there again?

No.

My life has taken me in a different direction.

But every time I think about Lyon, I remember the city where I became independent, where I challenged old habits, where I grew up, and where I quietly started building the life I live today.

Some cities become your home.

Others become part of your story.

For me, Lyon will always be the latter.

Thanks for reading.

Teekay

Update (2026): I lived in Lyon over a decade ago. While things like housing prices, bike infrastructure and vegan options have evolved since then, this article remains an honest account of what it was like to live there and the lessons I took away from those three years.