Sunning and Sipping in Saint-Emilion, France

The sun was shining in Saint-Emilion, all the chateaux had opened their doors for the May 1st weekend, tours were whimsical, tastings were plentiful... so bear with me as I wax ecstatically. I can see why the Roman poets were so enchanted with this place. The untainted landscape of meticulously planted vines rolls on as far as the eye can see, and the wines are undeniably out-of-this-world.


The town itself is a tourist's delight, 30 minutes from Bordeaux in the midst of the world's most famous wine-growing region. (And in the summer it must be impossible to get a table, or even squeeze through the tiny cobble-stone alleyways.) The town is steeped in history-- its name derived from the Benedictine monk hermit who resided in a cave here between 750 and 767-- and the luxurious traditions of art de vivre. The vineyards and township of St. Emilion are UNESCO-heritage protected sites because they've endured-- virtually untouched-- since the Romans camped out in Gaul and extolled the virtues of the rich wines.

This region was the site of fierce combat during the 100 years war, but apparently the succession of kings always allowed Saint-Emilion independent rule as long as it kept producing brilliant wines for the royal table. (Hmmmmm, a slightly inebriated populace= peaceful coexistence; wine= peace; W., fall off the wagon already!)

We walked through the winding streets, gaping at the shops and cafes spilling wine bottles out their doors, and gaping some more at the views that would materialize between stone houses: the panoramic portrait of green countryside dotted with red-roofed houses. I wore high-heels for my hotel appointment later in the day, and thus was slipping and sliding down the slick marble stones. Saint-Emilion is built into a hill... a very steep hill. I think Pierre was mortified when I decided to chuck the shoes, and slide barefoot down that hill. I got some serious stares. But the smooth cobblestones felt so great on my blistered feet!