The Suite Life: Living it Up at the Grand Barrail Chateau

When we first drove into Saint-Emilion, Pierre pointed out the window: "Wow! Winston, look at that castle!" I stared at the towers and turrets and grassy green of the estate set amidst the vineyards. As we drove by, I craned my neck for a closer look and saw the gold-gilded placard with the name "Grand Barrail Chateau Resort and Spa." Good God! This was our hotel for the night!

Later in the afternoon, after I was buzzed on sparkling wine and macaroons, even more wobbly on my heels, we returned to check in, and learned that the place had only earned four measly stars. (And we were thinking it was the finest accommodations in town, sheesh.) My tour unveiled comfortable and spacious guestrooms, but without much charm. Lots of light, but almost too clean-- no ancient, antique-filled salons or whimsical tea rooms. The Spa looked heavenly, but I had to suppress a giggle at the seated mannequin positioned in a chair in the "Relaxation Room." The Russian mob had taken over the pool-- 8 or 10 fierce, mafioso-looking chaps had rented out the entire new wing of the hotel.


The sunset was remarkable over the vineyards and golden-hued townships; we drove around snapping pix of silos, and stone walls, and churches, and large stone crosses casting shadows over the grapevines. Our wallets were hurting, so we decided to skip dinner and feast on chocolate and left-over macaroons while watching the French Football Cup. Paris vs. Marseilles, which was more entertaining than watching the unsavory Russian mob splash around in the pool. These teams are arch-enemies, so we ended up watching more fights, and screaming matches, and dangerous kicks, and menacing stares, than we did outstanding passing sequences.


I woke up the next day so starving that Russian horsemeat washed down with cold vodka didn't sound half-bad. And the breakfast-- at EUR 20 a pop-- was worth it. The breakfast room was decorated with stained-glass windows and elaborate woodwork on the ceiling, and the buffet was enormous. I was expecting the tiny French portions, and was pleasantly surprised to see the copious quantities of hot crossaints, meats, yogurts, cute little jars of confiture, and of course the beautiful display of cheeses. And like a true American, I went back for seconds... and thirds.