The Medoc 'first growths'

Chateau Latour, Wednesday 13 June 2012. Our first drive up the Medoc north of our accommodation in Margaux and we were bug eyed all the way! The narrow, windey D2 highway headed through what was more like the suburbs of Bordeaux city rather than wine country. Plenty of traffic, housing and domestic gardens both sides of the road, interspersed with light forests and a field here and there. Occasional vineyards and some tantalising names flashed by - the turn off to Chateaux Cantemerle, La Lagune and other Haut Medoc vineyards at roadside along with D'Issan and other Margaux names. Then the road dropped into a modest dip with a waterway, a Jalle, at it's foot and climbed into a sea of vines in both directions - the vinous commune of St Julien! Now the vineyards were unbroken except for the village itself, with chateaux at regular intervals and to our right the spire of the local church standing tall. Then a sight I recognized came into view - the curving dip in the road that signaled the end of St Julien and the beginning of Pauillac. Past the last St Julien vineyard Leoville las Cas with its limestone walls, then we swept up into Pauillac past the welcoming committee of the two Pichon estates on either side of the road. A flurry of camera shots aimed at almost certainly the two most beautiful Chateau buildings in the region, before we turned right into the gravel driveway of Chateau Latour. We were barred by a steel gate. Our driver disembarked, leant into and talked at an intercom. Then we were away again for a few hundred metres, to the stubby tower which marks Ch Latour. A low profile, unremarkable winery sat behind it with a grander, several story mansion set in old trees and gardens nearby. Elsewhere rows of green vines flowed in all directions with a streak of silvery water, the Gironde estuary, about a kilometre away. Our guide for the visit, a Chinese lass to our surprise walked towards us. (Less of a surprise the longer we spent in Bordeaux). We walked back down the vine lined driveway and around a vineyard plot, with it's stony soils and old, low pruned vines. A number of horses were working the vineyard in the distance, tilling the soil in the narrow passages between the vines. Heavily built horses like a smaller breed of draft horse. A simple plough followed, the driver holding the plough handles and walking on foot, guiding and urging the horse in its work. 'Light and non compacting of the soil' we were told, in what was the first of much comment from all the first growth estates on their establishment of biodynamic practices and a return to non mechanical and non chemical based viticulture. Even the moon seemed to feature, with the belief that sap flowed differently during different lunar phases, which I found odd. Still, nothing like a bit of irrationality to lend some charm. It was straight to business with the tasting room being next. We were delighted to be ushered into a small room overlooking the vineyard where the blends are assembled by the Chateaux panel of tasters. We stood and sipped through a 2009 Pauillac, 2006 Fort de Latour and then the 2004 Grand Vin, Chateau Latour itself. I couldnt quite believe where I was. My eyes flicked around the room, out the windows to the expanses of vines, back to our various expressions as we tried the wines and I thought 'remember this moment.' As if we wouldnt! The three wines represent the estates three price, quality and longevity tiers. The Pauillac is a drink now fruit driven expression, approachable on release and over 2 -5 years, keeping maybe a few more. The Fort is designed for short term cellaring and at its best at 8 + years we were told. The grand vin is a 'Vin de Garde' or what we would call a cellaring wine, intended to age in the bottle into something very different from its initial state, and made accordingly. 'Fifteen years' we were told is the intended period of time for that bottle maturation to occur. Tasting them the Pauillac was a very nice Bordeaux style, the Fort had developed a bouquet and came across best, while the grand vin was enjoyable but still dense and closed. All of them had the Latour stamp of firm, strong, pure flavours. We exited the tasting room heading for the winery and cellars, but not before a close encounter with a horse finishing its row beside us and turning into the next row heading back down the slope. Below we could see the waters of the Gironde, accounting we were told for the moderation of temperature the vineyard experiences and the deep gravel deposits of the elevated rise. The horse in question decided to delay working the next row of vines and stood still for a minute despite contrary instructions; perhaps an audience was of more interest? The driver was unimpressed with the display of resistance but constrained in the language and shouting he might otherwise apply. Dark looks instead! The cellars themselves included pristine stainless steel fermentation tanks, with a flashing space age computerised panel for temperature control and other monitoring. Then down the steps to where rows of barrels almost vanished into the distance, along dimly lit halls piercingly sweet with the heady smell of fresh oak and wine. The year one barrel rooms were brighter with their fresh new oak, while other rooms held the red stained barrels of year two wines. Countless barrels of kings treasure it seemed, slumbering in oblivion to the world above. Finally we moved to a dispatch area and watched a bottling run underway. The bottles were being mechanically filled, corked and capsuled, then a considerable labour contingent handled each bottle, hand applying the labels, wrapping each bottle in tissue, then packing, boxing and stacking them in transportable pallets. Every stage was done slowly and with great care and inspection of the results. For example the labels were applied using guides that exactly measured position and required an exact match with the capsule motif, the tissue wrapper was lined up perfectly over the motif on the bottle label and folded most precisely, then they were packed in their 6 bottle wooden cases, labels perfectly aligned, upwards, as carefully and exactly as a box of Cuban cigars. The care being taken and the slow, quiet concentration of the team impressed us greatly. There is obviously no way anyone lucky enough to be opening a box of Latour is going to experience anything less than their flawless presentation. The whole chateau operation impressed us further with its lack of flourishes. There was no signage or any attempt to show itself off, staff were intently busy and it seemed nothing more than a working estate. The place did however ooze confidence that its wine was one of the worlds greats and would speak for itself. Back outside for a last look at the rolling slopes of the vines, the nearby Gironde, the Chateau buildings and circular tower and we were away. Chateau Lafite Rothschild, Wednesday 13 June 2012. In the same afternoon, with a Pauillac lunch-to-end-all-lunches onboard we drove north to Chateau Lafite Rothschild, often thought of as the non identical twin of Latour with each bringing the others qualities into perspective. The D2 was in good form, driving past a succession of great Pauillac names noted by nothing more than a simple roadsign, with nothing separating the vines from the road or even the properties themselves except the occasional limestone wall. The land swelled pleasantly in broad green undultions not unlike the champagne region although on a lesser scale. Lafite itself came into view in the middle distance, a collection of buildings on the flank of a rising slope of vines. No locked gate on the driveway this time until we got to the building compound, where a serious wrought iron fence and gateway separated the administration block from the grand residence of the Chateau itself. Privacy for the residents is clearly paramount. A thick accented Frenchmen in his late twenties came out to greet us but not before some waiting outside an untended reception. For a distraction we had a lineup of large black Mercedes parked nearby, with their black suited drivers chatting amongst themselves. The same crowd that were at lunch we realized. Inside we studied maps of Lafite ('The Hill') and a profile of their soil displayed in a long glass case. Layers of interspersed free draining gravels and silts. There was no vineyard walk this time as we dived into the cellars, downstairs into magnificent hallways and barrel rooms supported by massive arches, their rows of stacked winefilled barrels with Lafite Rothschild branded on their ends. Leaving the first year barrel rooms we wound through corridors past gated alcoves with dusty stocks of very old wines in the bottle, many unlikely to ever see the light of day but part of the long history of the estate. What happened next was to be a highlight of the whole French experience. I had not expected it to even be mentioned, let alone that we would turn a corner and walk into their famed underground circular second year barrel room, an enormous space like a Greek amphitheatre, high arched ceilings dimly but dramatically lit, barrels stacked in curving rows. Cool and silent like all these cellars, but with special acoustics as you could imagine - the smallest sound seem to travel. I did a 'pop' with my mouth to illustrate the point, which got a laugh which even further illustrated the point! Our host had another treat in store, a table set in the circular barrel room with tasters, spittoon (not necessary) and bottles of Lafite Rothschild 2001. Candles to light the scene - what else! He stooped and concentrated, to pour the wines in the dim light. Well we sipped and marveled, wandered the expanse of the circular cellar and contemplated the wine, talking in whispers. The wine was elegant, lithe and so graceful,with a sweet fragrant core. What a treat. We exited the circular cellar through large doorways and up a sloping vehicle ramp, into the very bright daylight. Nearby a mobile bottling plant was active, parked against a building, rattling away and busy with workmen. We were in no hurry to leave, enjoying the heat and the sight of the rows of vines heading to the crest of the hill that gave the Chateau its name. A vineyard sight that maybe could have been any number of places, except that it wasn't. Some photos and we were away. Chateau Mouton Rothschild, Thursday 14th June 2012. After a morning visit to the wonderful Chateau Pontet Canet, we pushed on into the northern part of Pauillac, now becoming somewhat familar after several passes through the area. I kept blatting with the camera on each pass, hoping for better light and the best shots possible of the many sights on the way. Mouton R is an easy walk from Lafite, both vineyards being where the undulating terrian stands higher than its surrounds and affords a depth of well drained alluvial gravels. We drove down Moutons driveway, past park like gardens and trees and into their carpark. The placed lacked any very obvious entry and there were buildings all around, but the office reception appeared in front of us and there we met our host. This visit was more contained than any of the others as the cellars and winemaking areas were being redeveloped, so 'come back again in a couple of years' it was suggested. OK will do! In the meantime we walked outdoors to look over at the gated chateau itself and the other buildings of the estate, including their arts museum. MR has a unique level of interest in the arts and they almost seemed to me to be as much an arts patron as a wine producer? I've always had that uncomplimentary opinion although that view was rocked somewhat when tasting the fabulous 1982 Mouton Rothschild earlier this year. We moved back inside for a video and talk, where we heard about the key figure in MR's recent rise to fame, being the late Baron Phillip Rothschild and now his daughter Phillippe. Baron Phillip drove the estate to its current heights over a 50 year period, interrupted by his flight from the Nazis in WW2 when like other notable properties it was commissioned by the invading armed forces and the occupants preferably disposed off. How they survived and had the fortitude to pick it up again, aspire to such creative achievements and proceed with such confidence is quite a story, a story I now think is told in their wine. We proceeded to their tasting room and the 2010 grand vin, from the barrel as it was just in the process of being bottled, was poured. Forget seeing the cellars we thought and the wine museum can wait for another day; we stopped caring about anything else as we tried this magnificent wine. Like drinking black velvet, with a fathomless saturated nose, then an exceptional density of flavour and elegance of texture, gliding effortlessly over the palate. We walked back out into the hot sun and wandered the local streets to our rendevous point with the others. I thought about that wine, the whole way. Chateau Margaux, Friday 15th June 2012. A day later, moderately early in the morning, we drove north from our hotel in Pessac Leognan around the outskirts of Bordeaux and into the commune of Margaux, via a more inland road. Margaux is greater in extent than other Medoc appellations with vineyards scattered and more separated by forested areas. We were on edge - the traffic around Bordeux had been heavy and the thought of being late was a worrying possibility. However it never happened and suddenly we were there, swinging into a long driveway heavily lined with old Plane trees. The drive headed straight for the Chateau which loomed ever larger until we were there, viewing it through high, wrought iron gates. Driving down an absolutely straight, lengthy avenue of old trees towards an undeniably magnificent building said it all in terms of the haughty exclusivity of the estate. We duly posed in front of the Chateau gates, to record the moment! The Chateau itself is the home of the owners so no way is that going to be on offer, but the estate winery and it's many old buildings are separate and there we headed. We knew the place had a long and at times turbulent history, including the French revolution cleaning out the aristocracy and the chateau's occupation by Nazi forces. Margaux seemed to carry all these memories, with its old but of course perfectly maintained buildings, walled gardens, park like trees and green rural setting. Our host, a french lass came out to greet us and chatted knowledgeably about the estate as we walked through their extensive facilities and storage halls, the barrels stamped this time with Chateau Margaux. The place felt just luxurious in its absolute adherence to its beautiful old buildings and facilities, its scale and spaceousness, not to mention that every step you knew you were walking through one of the great winemaking locations on the planet. In the second year barrel room workmen were racking barrels, manually draining the contents of one barrel into another leaving a small amount behind for the purpose of separating the wine from its sediments. They were burning sulphur to fumigate the washed barrels, with SO2. Quite a rank smell, and while we felt compelled and fascinated to stay and watch the process in this hazy, fumey barrel room, it involved much coughing like old sheep probably to the amusement of the staff. Next we saw Margauxs' barrel making facilities, basically an old room like a large stable with an open fire at one end housing the charcoal burning facility to toast the barrel interiors, a selection of non electric hand tools and several barrels in the making with their staves splayed out like thin petalled opening flowers. The sweet aroma of freshly cut oak. The chateau makes all it's own barrels which are considered almost as critical to the wine as are the grapes. No effort is spared in sourcing and controlling the timber, it preparation, curing, and assembling into barrels. We had met this elsewhere in France, this obsession with getting the exact barrels required as part of the character of a specific wine, not to mention the great expense involved and the variation in that expense depending on the what is involved. There is no doubting it's contribution to the wine or the economic consideration of a wineries ability to to afford it. Well Margaux can afford the most perfect expression of the art of barrel making and subsequent wine maturation. Our host also had a tasting for us and asked - 'upstairs in reception or in one of the barrel rooms?' No contest - any excuse to spend a few more minutes in a Chateau Margaux barrel room. Wines and glasses appeared, probably the spittoon but I didn't look, as we tried their second wine (Pavilion rouge) and then the grand vin, both 2008. So early days for both wines, but easier to taste than some other winery samples we had experienced pulled out of the barrel, pre bottling. Margaux is reputed for its delicacy and the haunting perfume that develops in the bottle. Even young the grand vin had elegance and some of its sweet floral aromas, the blackcurrent leaf and fruit aromas of cabernet grapes and maybe even a minty note. But beautiful, an experience to taste and happily I have some at home to drink one day in its prime! We left the winery buildings and loitered around the nearest vines with their tilled soils and wildflower plot borders. Europes wildflowers we realized, are NZ's weeds! So many we recognise. Plenty of glances towards the Chateau and then we were away, back down the long driveway and out into the real world, if you can call the Medoc that!

Amboise to Chaumont sur Tharonne.

We are now higher up the Loire river, close to the town of Orleans where we finish our trip tomorrow by taking a train to Paris airport. The town is tiny and very much in the country, an area mostly of forests including oak forests. We thought it might be a peaceful final night in France but on the other side it lacks facilities which might have made it easier to pack and prepare for tomorrow, which will see us on a plane by night. For example we have something of a trudge to make into the centre of the village, to seek out its one restaurant! Today started in Amboise with a vist to the Amboise Chateau, principally to see the grave of Leonardo da Vinci. He died there in 1519 and is buried in a small chapel near the castle. Not too many people around at that time of day so we could walk in mostly on our own, and view his grave which is a slab of stone on the chapel floor with his name inscribed on it. A small but perfect building, with that air of silence inside a stone construction. Wonderful, pitted and heavy oak doors and bright stained glass windows. The Chateau itself seemed to have much to do with amour, guardhouses and weapons and other signs of its defensive role. We had noticed the night before that the main wall has streams of machine gun fire pockmark ing some of its surface. All these great buildings suffered to some degree from the Nazi invasion, either by being shelled or by being taken as residences for the occupying army. The French weren't much better, often using them at various times as prisons, hospitals etc, not to mention decapitating many of their occupants during the revolution. From Amboise we drove to Chateau Chambord, not to visit the interior buy at least to have a view of one of the most celebrated of these buildings, renowned for its almost unimaginable whimsy on a grand scale. We approached the castle, perplexed by the sheer number of people about. A straight driveway at least 3 km long approches the castle, and well before halfway we were stopped for parking, and walked the rest of the way with parallel parked vehicles on both sides of the road. There was a festival on crowds were everywhere. But the good news was that the festival, whatever it was,was in the chateau grounds so we could walk easily up to the moat and view the building in front of us. The painter of a fantastical imaginary castle could possibly draw something like this, with turrets and spires of all sizes, packed into a skyline vista probably hundreds of metres long. These buildings seem to be dotted around everyw here, along with other grand edifices and event the attempt by many private homes to have a turret if at all possible. At their simplest the turret might have a square rather than round cross section, but always tiled usually in grey slate. The French crowd was equally interesting. We didn't see another tourist, it was locals who had come en masse. They weren't going to miss Sunday lunch and there were picnics going on everywhere, often with portable tables etc. The chateau grounds also had many market eateries set up. The French sit down to eat and take their time, none of this fat hogs walking around eating hamburgers stuff etc. Galleries of portable tables and chairs packed with the ever yapping French. One stall has hazelnut products and a photo of the the families hazelnut grove somewhere nearby. That was obviously their livelihood and two teenage daughters were selling at the stall. I thought of our own half a dozen or so hazelnuts. Increasingly we are thinking and talking about being home. Tonight is our last night in France and its back to itinary studying, packing discussions, returning the car, sorting the train travel and what the sequence of events and time schedule will be tomorrow which will see in Hong Kong for 2 nights, en route to home.

Vouvray to Amboise.

Amboise to me sounds very Roman, so expectations were high for this very old town and we were not dissapointed. But it is also the place where Leonardo da Vinci died and was buried, so is a magnet to visitors for that reason also. Our day started with a drive around Vouvray, before we departed the township. Vouvray is a not very extensive area of limestone plateau, raised above the Loire river. The front of the escarpment is a cliff of maybe 50 metres, and it is split by a narrow valley and other weathered indentations along the way. The wines of Vouvray sit up on the limestone plateau, and the housing crowds the narrow strip of land between the base of the cliff and the river, up the narrow valley and anywhere else that a cliff or limestone bank is at hand. We pottered around the few back roads, realizing how much the housing was using the cliff by digging into it, maybe for a garage, but just as likely for a whole house. In the latter case chimneys appear out of the ground further up the slope, making an internal room, or a small window might just appear in the middle of an otherwise clean face of limestone. This feature on the area was further reinforced as we drove up the Loire to its next door neighbor and virtual clone, Montlouis Sur Loire. Here housing pushed further up the valleys and the breaks in the limestone cliff edge, but otherwise there was not a chalk face untouched by excavation and housing. We didn't find it easy to photograph as there are mostly dwelling Aon front and only glimpses up alleys of cave dwelling being, but they were everywhere. I can understand why they look incredible and imagine being able to excavate backwards as far as you like? It was a big day as after the above we drove to Chateau Chenonceau, Shantis most desired historical site. A powerhouse of regal and political activity over many centuries and a glorious moated chateau very much intact on the inside. We hired an audio guide (iPod with headphones) and spent about 2 hours trolling its extensive interior. Less accessible to me than Shanti, I admit, as a bit of knowledge is necessary to understand the periods of time and people involveD. But I can At least report that Catherine de Medici was a central figure in the castles history and we could walk into her bedroom and study, not to mention the many grand rooms of estate. Very intense immersion in soaring ceilings, tapestries, medieval furniture and stories of the past. On to Amboise, yet another candidate for most beautiful rural town and dating back to Celtic tribal days. Amboise is also on the edge of a limestone escarpment, although the town has also spilled across and is extensive on the other side of the river. Along with great use of the limestone edge as the site of the old town, this one has a massive castle - Chateau d'Amboise, build in the 15 th and 16th century. The castle sits up on the edge of the escarpment, but it's front structure is built up from the base of the cliff so it looms like a massive wave at the back of the old town. We checked into our B and B, barely accessible up a driveway cut though limestone and requiring both car mirrors to be retracted. The house itself was on a broad ledge, bu guess what the owners were burrowing into the wall behind, to extend their lodgings. Space is not an issue - you decide how far to go and how high the ceilings will be. Building in reverse, by removing rather than adding. We ate at a restaurant at the foot of the castle wall, then walked for some time in the streets around us, poking noses up private walkways and over walls, fascinated by the place. Here we also saw for the first time the use of wooden beams and limestone in a mixed wall, and increasing use of brick which are a feature of the buildings where we are staying tonight. The streets resonated with our new friend the swifts and their wild cries, plus the reliably and musical blackbirds were in the in town as they have been everywhere.

Sauternes

Our last day in the Bordeaux district featured the perfect finish, a drive south into the small appellation of Sauternes. We drove through mixed country collowing the Garonne river then turned away into nearby higher country and straight into the vines then the Chateau of Ch Guiraud. The appellation is a smaller one, basically on a gentle hill gacing the river, with. Small stream, the Ciron, flowing around its base before joining the main river. The Ciron is a clean, cold spring creek, presumably arising from ground water sources further inland, and it's lower temperature triggers the mist on a warm summer evening, that forms over the stream then up the slopes of Sauternes. This mist encourages the botrytis that is the basis for their golden sweet white wine. At Chateau Guiraud we were welcomed by Augustin an 'ambassador' for the firm and also by their winemaker Xavier, who spoke little English but seemed determined not to mis out on anything! We walked into the vineyards on a somewhat hot morning,mthen into the cooler cellars. ugustin told us how the wines are made very simply but that the picking of the crop, berry by berry in a series of 'tries' ( passes) sometimes over a couple of weeks, was the basis for wine quality. As usual they had gorgeous old estate buildings etc, nd there we headed to taste their wine including a dry white form Sauvignon Blanc. I told Xavier, via ugustine, that we owned some Ch Guiraud bottles and had drunk it on a number of occassions. He wanted to know the exact details including the vintages, which I sort of knew, and took great satisfaction at his wines making it to NZ! We drove from the Chateau past other names we knew such as Rieussec, Lafarie Peyreguey nd others, plus driving along the foot of the slope of Ch d'Y Chem, with it's distinctive chateau perched at the head, being the top of the hill. The village of Sauternes itself was a rustic, narrow streeted, limestone and terra cotta roofed miniature, with steepled church, just as you would expect. Not a soul in sight at this time of day, with everyone likely out in the fields or whatever they do. Other rural villages are the same - almost abandoned during the middle part of the day. The highlight for me was driving over the Ciron, a sight I had much looked forward to. Clean water, flowing quickly and almost obscured by the canopy of forest trees that follow along it's route. Such a seemingly minor waterway but one that creates a wine district that is not replicated anywhere else in the world. The whole district was very quaint and pretty, somewhere you could spend a lot of time with your camera and would dearly like to see at different seasons.

Angers to Vouvray.

Vouvray featured large on our list of places 'calling to us' as Shanti puts it, with their characterful white wines and general air of fascination about the place. We drove our of Angers via narrow streets, random one way systems then the grossness that is the crowded motorway. Probably not possible without GPS. But into the Loire countryside and increasing happiness! Generally flat country, sometimes rolling of perhaps a limestone ridge, but always pretty fields and forests and occasionally a drive beside the wide Loire river. We tracked outer way to the town of Samur, to see what s one of the best megalithic (large stone) constructions, this one stone age and 5,000 years old. Now absorbed within the town, you ring a bell at a locked gate, which opens to admit you to a small tree'd compound surrounding this impressive structure. Thoughts of Neolithic man, in very ancient Europe, hand hewn stone tools, a hunter and gatherer. We drove on to the Fontevraud, built from 1101 and a place where some exceptional historical figure the Plantagenet family and associates were buried, including Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Richard the Lionheart. Shanti was in heaven to stand inside the complex of buildings and see her effigy in the abbey church, knowing her to be buried on site. From there we drove to the sumptuous moated chateau of d'Azey etc, a 16th century building that sits like a rage fairy tale castle out over its waters. Inside, several rooms carry the furnishings if the day. On to Vouvray by end if day, and complete fascination at the building activity along the edge of the limestone plateau. Vines on top, the village at the foot. Whole houses cut into the embankment, with a window appearing in a blank wall of limestone rock and chimneys sticking out of nowhere! We walked up through the village, following a narrow valley that cuts back into the plateau, and had a very french provincial dinner in a restaurant cut back into the stone. Now happily tucked up in a very lovely room (yes, with the owner busy excavating new quaters in the liff beside us), and ready to sleep.

The Loire - Angers.

Time to leave Bordeaux for the Loire valley, food basket of Paris, valley of the Kings, a showcase for Local history and hopefully a great slice of rural France! A hard day for most of it, up too early after te end of the wine tour dinner, so somewhat slow on our feet. The TGV, the local bullet train to be mastered and that was no small feat getting ourselves and heavy cases through a sizeable station with the minimum assistance or time available. Survived that, then into a left hand drive Peugeot and a prick of an exercise getting out of the township of Tours where the train dropped us. Survived that, including one occassion stopping the traffic as I departed a messy intersection, lost all idea of where to go and pulled to the left of the roadside to get out of the way but of course it was facing the line of oncoming traffic. Survived that, other tensions arose but we got more fluent with thedriving, stopped stalling the 6 speed manual and got us through the pretty, pasture and forest landscape to the town of Angers ('on- jay'). The roads into the city are rotten, as the city approaches seem to be everywhere, being very busy motorways, only occassional on ad off ramps, signage not always easy and chuck in a few toll gates and not enough change in the car and you about have it. But once inside the town all is forgiven, in another just beautiful, pedestrian friendly, old world environment. Bursting with people, including loads of young ones who seem to live with their friends in social gatherings and chat-a-thons on the street. The city is at the junction of the Maine river as it joins the Loire river. At that junction is possibly the city's greatest treasure Chateau d'Anger, a fortressed enclave, with 'curtain walks' of sheer rock and 17 'drum' towers, a 'powerful feudal fortress' with a (now dry) moat. Built about 1230 AD. very imposing and beautiful in its simple design and sheer scale. We enjoyed many other sights in the town, walking around, stopping for a beer, then dinner in a small packed restaurant. Very happy experience and now conked out and about to sleep the day off.

Bordeaux - St Emillion.

We drove from our accommodation in Graves, at Smith Haut Lafitte, across the river and into St Emillion, not a long drive. The last hotel had been superb, this one shocked by being better, a former Chateau building and a good one. Out on its own as they tend to be, vineyard properties all around. St Emilion blew us away from the start. It's not far, but far enough from Bordeaux city to not encompass any of it's urban sprawl. The district occupies a limestone plateau, generally flat but eroded into valleys and embankments on its margin. The township sits on one of those margins so has more elevated views and steeper streets on one side. An old town that has been occupied for ages, with building remnants back to the 12 th century, mostly of monastic origins. The cobble streeted, limestone built town is sheer magic. With the wine region being broad the chateaux, of which their are many, tend to sit in the centre of vineyards in all directions. The chateaux are smaller and properties more modest so it's an extended and open area of great rural charm. The town is a centre of wine commerce and thick with wine retailers, we have never seen so many. It's not too 'touristic' and a popular place for Bordeaux residents ('Bordelais') to visit for the day and stock up, not that the city isn't also an exceptional place to buy wine. We were taken aback by the foot traffic in St Emillion On our arrival, until we found it was a festival day, celebrating the completion of flowering ( of the vines). All around France seem to be wine fraternities who wear colorful robes and medallions etc, and who periodically march around town and conduct long lunches etc. On this occassion the wine community and families were there in force and we enjoyed the sight of the throng marching the narrow streets led by a small band playing a cheery march. Our wine visiting schedule had relaxed and we had some had time to enjoy the town, to walk and browse. Also time to languish for a few hours in our chateau accommodation. But visits to several estates showed us the range of properties and the idyllic surrounds. Highlights included a hilltop property with its vines on the slopes around, and an insight into the cellars cut into the limestone below the township and many of the chateaux. One of these locations, at Chateau Fortet, in the town itself, was a very extensive cellar of tunnels, passages, often very low ceilings requiring care to not bang your head. Theses cellars were so extensive they far exceed storage requirements, and had been built by hand excavation over the ages. You could possibly get lost in them. Cool, damp walled but dry enough under foot, deeply silent, with occasional lines of barrels or stacks of bottles slumbering in the gloom. This includes old wines and we have seen examples of caches of wine 150 years old or more, in some locations. Two other particular memories were visiting Ch Ausone and driving into Pomerol. Ch Ausone is an old Roman or earlier quarry site and has been growing grapes since Roman days. Pomerol is a region on the St Emilion plateau where deep clays overly the bedrock. We know the wines but don't encounter them often and some of the great names in all of France are there, lovely often monastic derived names like Evangile and Conseillante. One of these properties - Petrus- regularly produces the single most expensive bottle of wine in all of France. The region itself is barely even marked, just a sea of vines with modestwineries buildings dotted about and the only landmark a church spire at its centre. We struggled to find the property we were seeking, with much driving in circles on narrow carriage ways through the vines, and conversations between our driver and vineyard workers encountered on the road. The same applied elsewhere in the area, with vistor impact quite low and a largely resident working population in one industry - wine! St Emilion would be a top candidate as the place to hire a house in the country and settle into a few months of lazy rural French bliss.

Bordeaux - the Medoc

This account excludes an account of visits to the five first growths, which will be separate. We flew into Bordeux with a few good thumps of turbulence, with towers of cloud and showers drifting through. On the ground it had the pearly light I had read about and the odd spot of rain. The city is low rise, maybe three stories most commonly, flat and in limestone block which varies from white (recently cleaned) to dirty grey. Old building that seem the same era as Paris, but this time no attempt at grandeur. Loads of traffic which slowed us down on many occassions in the days ahead. Having said that the city has its charm, and we loved lunch in a first floor restaurant with the usual loads of french residents, almost as noisy as us. We has to reviewand upgrade the above opinion of Bordeaux a few days later. Lunch was the usual fixed menu and loads of bustle as waiting staff come and go in a steady stream. Then on to our first meeting for the day, if I can use that term - this time a negotiant firm, a merchant buying and selling Bordeaux wines. These merchants partly define the local wine industry, as most serious chateaux do not del directly with the public and can be very unapproachable, we were warned. More that that, at the top end they may be long standing family aristocracies pursuing interests which have nothing to do with spotty bummed visitors arriving by coach. This negotiant had set up our most important chateau appointments. 'Do not be late' he said. We headed off to the village of Margaux for the first of two nights. Accommodation beside a golf course so. We enjoyed the park like setting Ad noticed again the melodious blackbird singing that has been a thread right through our France travels. By dusk the swallows were working the pond outside our window. They are a larger species, with dusky black plumage and no other markings. At this time of day they seem to call in a high pitched bat like squeaking that we have heard in city areas such as Avignon. As it became dark bats came out, flying close to the building maybe checking out the eaves. We squeezed and leaned out the window watching them flick past! The next day was memorable, as we drove up the Medoc, the peninsula north west of Bordeaux, that houses the great wine estates of Bordeaux and of France. The road north was well lined with houses, and was obviously residential in nature, still very much the outskirts of the city. But the housing was starting to break up into reaches of vines, and we could see the lie of the land and how it defines their spread. With the Gironde river and estuary nearby, the deep gravels, over limestone base, we're only suitable for vines where they had elevation and therefore drainage. These low broad hills are further divided by 'jalles', being the channels build by the Dutch in the 18th (?) century, and which deepened the drainage and lifted the extent and quality of the region to the preeminence it enjoys today. So a Jalle, the road lifting up a gentle slope, then the woods and any houses break out into open sky and a sea of vines. Names we know so well flicked past the bus, with sign posted gates and the occassional walled plots, being relics of monastic wine growing. An exhilarating drive particularly given where we were going - Pauillac, to visit two of the greats, Chateaux Latour and Lafite Rothschild. We knew what to look for. As the road pushes through the region called St Julien, past it's most northern and most famed vineyard Les Cases, the land dipped to a Jalle and rose again into Pauillac, with the entrance to that commune asked by the two chateaux of Pichon Baron on the left and Pichon Lalande on the right, both arguably being the most beautiful Chateaux in the Medoc. Visible to the right of Picon Lalande - (whose full name is Chateau Pichon Longueville Comtesse de Lalande) is Chateau Latour. A brief picturesque drive through what might be the most fabulous wine location on the globe. The visit to Latour was followed by what has been voted our most unique lunch experience in France, perhaps even the best dining experience. An exclusive restaurant in Pauillac, and an old building, dripping with exceptional black suited staff and with indescribable quality food. Very formal in nature. Entourages of large black Mercs outside which seems to be the badge of the local wine elite! Each car with a driver, waiting for how ever many hours their bosses decide to spend chatting over lunch. The afternoon trip was to Lafite, often held to be Latours twin opposite, if that makes sense, being at the northErn and southern ends of the commune of Pauillac and polar opposites in style. The following morning we packed our bags for day two, being a visit to the third Of the three Pauillac 'first growths'and to the rising star of Pontet Canet. The day finished with a somewhat slow drive back through Bordeaux and into the southern district of Graves, for a three night stay in accommodation owned by Smith Haut Lafitte, a Graves vineyard. Very plush, woods on one side and vines on the other. More blackbirds and other more exotic wildlife. A from Smith Haut Lafitte we drove the next morning back up through Bordeaux, into the commune of Margaux, to visit Chateau Margaux. Some nerves on the bus as traffic was heavy and the 'don't be late' warning ringing in our ears. Anyway we made it, just, turning into the long tree lined driveway that is just another element of perhaps the grandest and most beautiful estate in the area. We spent a happy hour in the winery cellars, watching barrels being racked ( contents shifted to another barrel to separate them from the sediment) and visiting their cooperage where the barrels are made, by hand. Then a tasting of their wine, as per usual somewhere in the cellar where the mood of the place seems to hang in the air. Outside in the sunshine one last look around, over the Chateau itself, with it's high and locked gate, the old trees in the gardens, vines all around, the winery buildings many very old and now knowing what lies unseen in the cellars below. That seemed to signal the end of the most intense part of the trip, successfully making it the the Chateaux in question and having so much to take on board afire being in these magnificent properties. We finished this section of the trip with a few hours and an evening in Bordeaux city itself, where we had to radically alter our initial impressions of the place. The city centre has limitations on vehicle traffic and extensive pedestrian areas, including the longest pedestrian road in France. Well it was absolutely pumping with people, for kilometers, and a shopping mecca especially if you like womans clothing! Shanti didnt know where to turn! The street ran towards the river through some wonderful squares and buildings, including another massive cathedral and then a bridge over the river and another very Paris like scene with apartments lining the banks. Sleek polished trams glide around and the sheer number of people out and about is impressive. Restaurants and sidewalk cafes everywhere, shopping - you name it. The place had a certain feel, urbane but old world, confident eclectic and edgy on the people front. We finished the evening in a restaurant where they took us downs stairs and voila, another limestone basement full of wine and tables! Both floors were packed with diners and we spent a noisy couple of hours before heading out into the streets, not heavily lit and the crowds thinning. We noticed again the swifts at that time of night, and their strange high cries, getting towards the upper limit of our hearing. Since becoming more familiar with it we have noticed their calls a lot, and how they seem to magnify in and around buildings. Shanti described it well when she said their thin cries seem to 'cut the air'. Their flight does the same, mostly very rapid beating of their stiff, long but narrow and scythe shaped wings, then they lock them and glide in fast banking curves. If only they would slow down so we could see them more clearly!

The Southern Rhone

We drove south from Valence, with the country became visibly drier and climate warmer. Finally we clicked why the conifers were increasing - stone pines and Italian Cyprus in particular. They might be cold tolerant and naturally occurr at more northerly latitudes, but they are also drought tolerant so are ideal for amenity planting in dry areas. Anyway they speak of the Mediteranean which was approaching fast. The Rhone river departs the hills at Avignon, to form the northern tip of a pyramid shaped delta which is Provence, it's base being the Mediteranean coast. The southern Rhone wine region centers around Avignon, and in the two splayed legs of the hills which push south briefly before giving up to the Provence flats. We drove into Avignon to a great surprise - a very stunning old town circled by a wall. We parked outside the wall and walked in through a narrow gate to our hotel. On the river outside the wall was the Pont d'Avignon immortalized for some unknown reason in the song we used to sing at school (also for some unknown reason!) Inside the city a magnificent Papal Palace from the middle ages dominates the architecture. No buses are allowed, there are few cars, and the place is crammed with buildings and narrow streets some straight but many not. Mostly cobbled, everything old and beautiful. We scrambled to check in as we had arranged to meet Margaret Collier which required a walk across town. We headed off with a map and made it to another gateway in the wall that opened to the railways station, the meeting point where Margaret would be wearing a red scarf, like in the movies. We both arrived at the same time and instantly recognized each other. It was an emotional moment to meet her and reconnect the two families after all the years that have passed. I also knew that Dad would be thinking about it back home. We sat down for lunch and talked about our families, and Margaret talked about her memories of England and Brian's two extended visits in 1941. She remembered so clearly and talked so immediately of things said and done at the time it made it very real and Brian filled out further for us as a bold and personable young man. Margaret drove us to the Pont d'Avignon and we walked out on it, then through the wall and up to the Papal Palace, which was the Papal residency for a 100 years. We walked Margaret bck to her car, gave her a bottle of Tattinger Champagne and said our goodbyes for now, with promises of ongoing contact and hopefully a return visit to the area. Shanti and I walked back to the palace and spent more time walking around it, trying to catch it in the camera. We were also thinking and talking about our 3 1/2 hours with Margarate that passed so rapidly, and what a person she was. Finally a bit weary, the iPad guided us through the the maze of streets and alleys back to the hotel, me walking with it held in front like a techno zombie. We went out for dinner, for a wonderful evening that finished a wonderful day. We found a tiny restaurant somewhere and best of all no English speaking so we could battle with the menu etc and have the pleasure of ordering in French, even if we somewhat confused the waitress and a French couple beside us helped us out in their broken English. We struck up further conversation, then when they left before us they returned with a card and their contact details, and insisted we call them when were back, which would presumably be soon! 'Our first French friends' said Shanti and we went to bed very happy with the day. The next morning we knew we were in for a treat not to mention a long day. We drove to the outskirts of Avignon to within the appellation of Chateau Neuf du Pape (the 'new papal castle') being a reference to the castle in the city. The appellation is the best known in the area and we visited one of its greats - Chateau Beaucastel. Tim Wardell introduced us to their magnificent red wine many years go and it has been a favorite since. The vineyard is on very gently undulating, nearly flat land. What is remarkable is that is just an ocean of fist sized river worn stones, that are old remnants of glaciation and the Rhones wandering course. Two metres or so of these stones over lie limestone bedrock. From them grow swathes of grapes, in low bushes, unsupported and unirrigated, cooking in the sun. Thirteen varieties are grown withing the appellation which are blended variously by the different estates in both reds and whites. Chateau Beaucastel has a sizable vineyard and in the midsts sits the homested and winery. Beautiful walled grounds and gardens, with a cellar directly under the homested. We walked out into the vineyards, then into the cellar, then into a lovely tasting room to try their wines including aged examples. A mature Beaucastel is as good as any red you like, so it was an experience. But our jaws dropped further when we were taken into the main garden and seated around a long table with white cloth and all the trimmings and treated to a superb and extended lunch. We were in shade but it was starting to bake in the open. Geckos on the building walls, skilled gardening with roses, old trees, mature olives and a very good lily pond. Out the gateway the vines disappeared into the distance and into strikingly cloud patterned sky. 'Died and gone to heaven' was being muttered in every direction. Not quite I thought, with our family not here to see it. Then in case we were not completely in a trance two fighter jets come over low, en route or departing from the nearby military base in Orange. The thunderous, tearing sound ripped the fabric of the sky, as it does. Beats thunder we thought, as no rain would follow. But the day was not finished on that front. I hope my photos capture the place I think they might. We drove for the rest of the afternoon through the Provence landscape to Marseilles, on the Mediteranen coast, our first view ever of that sea. Provence was so dry, poor soiled, much flatland and low outcrops of whitish probably weathered granite rock. The Italian Cyprus was everywhere, around buildings nd even as windbreaks. They got more perfect as we went outh- even more slender, tall, pointed and dense as if trimmed. Pines also everywhere and little sign of arable land. Approaching Marseilles it was obviously rougher than anything we had seen, with it's industrial activity and slummy high rise apartments, all with washing hanging on the window rails and balconies. Centre city has its share of old buildings etc, having been occupied and a major active port since Greek times, but the place seems run down. The people are fascinating, with a significant number of north Africans and the very colorful mix of people that you might associate with a port. We were given the warning that it's better not to stray, but stuff that we thought and took a wander away from the hotel through the narrow streets and markets, dripping with people and rubbish! I found a barber and had my #1 haircut reinstated. Rough little shop, everyone glued to a football match playing on a TV on the wall. We wandered further, stopping to reorient ourselves for the return home ( no IPad on me, or camera). Anyway it was a lot of fun and fine during the day, although maybe at night it would be a good city to i) look for trouble ii) find it and iii) get your head kicked in. We went out to find Bouabaise to eat for dinner, which was disgusting. A thin potato gruel, with lumps of spud and even more grotty looking cuts of fish etc floating in it. Some stale bread to soak in it and voila! Once will be enough. Anyway the day had a final flourish as an electrical storm rolled over us. We stayed outside eating under a canvass awning until the rain became impossible and we headed indoors. Still it wouldn't stop and we scrambled home like rats in a shower. As Gordon Ramsay would say: 'Marseilles?....DONE.'

The Upper Rhone Valley

The Rhone river starts out in the alps bordering Switzerland, heads west into central France then changes its mind and turns south for the Mediteranean. We joined the river at the city of Lyons, on our drive south. The city looked like nothing on the outskirts, but that all changed in the central district on the banks of the Rhone, very much as Paris is beside the Seine. The comparison goes further as Lyons is another old city full of grand architecture, Even if it doesn't have the jewels of Paris. The Rhone runs down to the Mediteranean from here and the warmer climate influence is an obvious difference from Burgundy. The temperate forests have gone and vegetation is larger leaved and of a warmer climate. Trees we associate with the Mediteranean are appearing, the Olive and Italian Cyprus, but also conifers like the scots pine and Atlantic or maybe Lebanon(?) cedar. Buildings are different now, with terra cotta tiles, whitewashed walls and limestone block less evident. The Rhone is a large broad river even this far up. We stopped and lunched in the city centre in a series of old paneled ground floor rooms, with waistcoated waiters and the place dripping with artwork. The toilet area of passages, sitting rooms and toilets was so art filled we all trooped down to photograph it. We tracked thE river south of Lyons until the land became steeper and we were on the eastern edge of Masif Central, the uplifted granite highlands that are the reason for the rivers southward turn. Suddenly the river and the road were cramped by slopes on the right bank and the vineyards of Cote Rotie began. We had entered the northern Rhone wine region. Vines are not continuous across France as I expected, they are in definitive regions where they predominate, and then they are replaced elsewhere by pasture, crops, woOdlands and other land uses. But when it's grape county that's what you get. Cote Rotie, the 'roasted slope' is the most spectacular we have seen to date. The steep hillside is terraced with stone walls, and fingers of grapes exploit every ledge. The walls date from Roman times and Roman influences become ever more visible as we get further south and closer to the Italian border. We drove hard up against the footwall of the Cote ( slope), cranning our heads upwards to see the narrow terraces higher up. Soon we encountered the small town of Ampuis, tucked in a strip between river and hillside. Behind the village the terraced vineyards continued, then finished at the southern end with an appellation called Condrieu. We parked outside the locked, indifferent looking entrance of Guigal, a famed Rhone winemaker. We were then taken aback by the very plush reception area, with Roman artifacts such as sections of mosaic tiling on display, encrusted wine amphoras recovered from sunken vessels, an old stone roadway marker chiseled in Latin, and glass walls looking into lovely gardens. We enjoyed a tour of their fabulous facilities and cellars before settling into a tasting of many wines. A very short drive to the end of the town we reached our hotel under the slopes of Condrieu, being more of the terraced hillside. The hotel was right on the river bank so was a very enjoyable place to stay not to mention being able to turn your head and look up one of the very narrow streets, onto the hills behind. Barges and other sizeable craft were plying the river, as it provides access to the Mediteranean plus is a good way to move around the region and to sightsee. Next morning we were away for the town at the heart of the northern Rhone wine region - Tain. Here the river encounters the granite hill of Hermitage, and curves around it. The town, a very very old site, is on both sides of the river, exactly opposite the hill of Hermitage. The hill is covered in terraced vines, with the same single pole per vine trellising system. Being granite, the hill is quite reflective with its granite derived,siliceous soils. Atop the hill is the chapel, a tiny building that is a landmark in the area. The hill produces a unique, forceful wine with iron and soil flavours and a great capacity to age in the bottle. Around the hill are the related appellations of Croze Hermitage, St Joseph and Cornas, all which grow the Syrah grape and all on these granitic and related soils, producing superb distinctive wines. Apart from having an appellation however there is no classification system. So they are not easy to sort out from the quality and style perspective without some familiarity, and range from the very rustic to the fabulously polished. This contrasts with the Burgundy area just left where the combination of quality level terminology and detailed division into small subareas makes it much easier for the beginner to sort out. St Joseph in the Rhone, by contrast, is extremely diverse but all you have on the bottle is the makers name and vintage to guide you. We visited two significant growers and negotiants in the area both with extensive tastings and a great chance to delve into the regions wines. One day it might all change but for now the Rhone is mainly viewed as a good value for money workhorse but at the top end it's wines match anything. Generally our NZ team was less keen on them, not being used to the dry palates and presence of tannin. The highlight of the visit, apart from the sheer delight of the old town, was to be taken on a walk partway up the hill. The stone terracing and placement of vines anywhere it's not too steep is very picturesque. The vines and ground are hand tended and unirrigated, as are most if not all of the top wine locations in the country. The hill is full of colorful weeds like poppies, vipis bugloss, hypericum, Harefoot trefoil and many other weeds we recognize from central Otago. We felt so at home. The hill, as a shrine and also one of the most ancient wine locations dating from Roman grape growing also has a special atmosphere which we all commented on. Then to taste the magnificent wine the site produces was memorable. It had been a big day but not finished yet! We drove to Valence, checked in to our hotel and were back on the road again for a 30 min drive to a Michelin star restaurant, in a satellite town. We enjoyed an awesome dinner with (at last) snails, rabbit plus other local provincial fare. Losing count of how many times we get home very late and hardly able to keep the eyes open!

Champagne to Burgundy

We bused south out of Reins and quickly back into the countryside. The land kept rolling like an ocean swell but increasingly it was forested rather than open. The motorways cuts in relentless straight lines versus the country roads which chart nicer lines, but at least the motorways are quick! They have trainlines beside them and we saw the TGV (high speed train) pass us like a javelin. The forest is very attractive and eye catching, then I realized We have never seen temperate northern hemisphere (deciduous) forests before. There are wild deer in the forest so it is open and light, like a woodland. Small leaved trees such as birch and oak, Dappled light and all in its fresh summer greenery. We thought about Champagne as we left the area, and could understand why it's unique and unable to be copied anywhere else. The whole Champagne making venture is a community activity with many participants at different levels of the business, that work together like a beehive. Blending of many componenifferenta in different areas is another key to the style, rather than grapes from one site. 3.5 hours later we had passed Dijon with its bright mustard fields and had the first view of the Cote D'Or in the heart of Burgundy. The Cote (slope) itself is unremarkable, being just another of the modest swells on the landscape with a cap of scrubby woods. But the chalk soils aNd therefore the vines are back and we knew the Cote had a string of famous names and villages like Vosne Romanee, Nuit St George and many more. We drove into the town of Beane to our hotel Le Cap. The town is apparently one of the best preserved medieval towns in France. Its a toy town, a fairy story of tiny old houses and narrow streets. Limestone walls, tiled roofs, cobbled roads, shuttered windows, old stone structures and even a sparkling little spring creek. The town is well tree'd, with lovely old limes, oaks and others. At this time of the year it smells wonderful, with mock orange, roses and other abundant flowers, the Lime trees are loaded with their winged flowers and everything is in the fresh green of early summer. There was also black bird song everywhere and even a blackbird nest in the vines around our hotel balcony. So we loved the town but it's very tourist oriented along the lines of Queenstown and you wonder how it will survive the onslaught. Hotels and accommodation, restaurants and tourist oriented shopping is very evident. We thought back to some of the rural villages of Champagne where the reverse was true, with not one concession to one visitor, anywhere. That afternoon we visited one of the large negotiant firms with a broad portfolio of wines from the southern half of the Cote. We sat down in their gorgeous old dining room for another stunning lunch which was so striking I photographed the dishes - fois gras and asparagus terrine, then veal wrapped in fine pastry, then a cheese board then fresh berries. Incredible wines with each course - we shook our heads at what we were getting. Then a tour of their cellars, in one of four large old circular stone buildings that were relics of fortifications. The town itself has a pre Roman (Gaul), Roman, and medieval history, so you are left wondering at all times 'how old is this?' Then we stood round a table for a tasting of 16 wines across their portfolio - very demanding to concentrate and note take at that time of day and after that lunch, plus it was getting hot. We returned to our hotel and bang, straight on to dinner, billed as a 'light dinner' in a local restaurant. Light it was not and early it was not, so bed was good around midnight. The next day a third of our contingency didn't make it to the bus for our 9.30 departure and a day of visits to two small producers from the northern Cote. They were fascinating, the first at a winemaking facility within the town but with the usual underground cellar and the usual charming hosts. Burgundy cellars are grubby versus their Chanpagne counterparts, musty and cool, damp walls clogged with black cellar mould and barrels, tools, seeming random stacks of bottles or barrels lining the rabbit warrens cut into the limestone. Bare bulbs to light your way, crouching to pass through low doorways and careful negotiation of steep stairways. Then round a corner and hey, a line up of bottles, glasses and spittoons. Each wine poured and a ring of bowed heads sniffing it in the gloom. The winemaker talks (in thickly French accented semi intelligible explanations) and there is a bit of note taking. We drove on to (for me) the highlight of the visit, up the old Roman road at the foot of the Cote, looking up the lines of grapes to the hilltop perhaps a km away. We drove past a string of beautiful village and wine districts, all with their evocative names that I am familiar with but could now see. We drove to the village of Moray St Denis for lunch, and again a collection of crisp waiters and staff, and their fluid service. The dishes seem to come in small increments, often several components to one supposed 'course'. There is hardly an interval between something coming or going. Not sure how the dish washing works but the crockery comes and goes like some form of madness. In this case our slate place mat and entire set of crockery was removed after a tiny 'amuse Bouche' of soup (about 20 Mls of it) had been served. The usual incredible lunch experience then a short drive to our second winemaker, in the same village. A beautiful old stone home, walled and gated, and cellars underneath. This winemaker was typical of the family lineages that have run these places for ages. Each speaks strongly about their own approach and philosophy, looking imploringly at you while they explain how you must respect the soil, grapes, etc and what they are striving to achieve. This winemaker went in detail into the use of wood in the winemaking which opened another door into better understanding a whole new industry, being the growing, harvesting, maturing, barrel construction, barrel toasting (charring the interior) of the oak which is a critical part of the process. Then onto a tasting at the cellar entrance, where an electrical storm entertained us with flashes and booms, then torrential rain. I think ours heads were spinning, standing at the great timber doors, cobbled court yard in front and cellars behind, tasting a string of the makers most exceptional wines while he talked engagingly about them. We drove home, back down the Cote, into our bedtime story town and hotel. Our hosts invited Shanti and I out for dinner, as it was a free time evening. We of course accepted and enjoyed their company walking through the town to the selected restaurant, perusing a wonderful local wine list and menu, then a classic and not inexpensive few hours followed. We got home in time for the storm to cut loose, so went to bed with the widows open to the wild weather outside. I was too tired and the body too abused by the day to sleep easily, but shanti blinked out without any problem, as usual. We are now en route to Lyons, then into the upper part of the Rhone Valley, for a very different part of the country that will take us directly south, tracking the Syrah grape in particular from the cooler higher regions such as Hermitage, down throught Chateau Neuf du Pape near Avignon, then down through Provence eventually to Marseilles on the Mediteranean coast.

Paris to Champagne

Our last night in Paris was at a top floor (level 8) restaurant, where we could enjoy the sight of Paris at night. Our days have been grey and the light flat, so seeing the city crouching in the dark with its many magnificent buildings spotlit was a treat. The Eiffel Tower was true to form with a loud display of flashing lights but no doubt it would be spectacular up close. A long and large dinner awash with terrific wines. In the morning we drove to Reins, in The Champagne region. Reins is pronounced 'Ranz', but well ladled with rolling r's and nasal nuances. Barely recognizable versus it's written form! The drive out of Paris was a goodbye to the lovely Seine and city centre, back out through the industrial suburbs then into green countryside. The flat land became more rolling, in very broad but low hills. This became more striking as we approached Reins. It's a distinctive landscape that is like the swell on the open ocean. Very attractive wih pasture, crops, and occassional woodlands on the hill caps and elsewhere. We were also enchanted by roadside areas thick with red poppies in flower. Periodic farmsteads of high sided, small windowed slate roofed buildings but otherwise mostly open pasture. Then in the distance an occassional village of tightly clustered tiled buildings. As Reins approached the soil became noticeably whiter, where exposed. Chalk! We checked in to our tiny roomed Reins hotel then over the road for lunch before the first visit of the day to the Gardet Champagne House - a mid sized privately owned operation. We had our first look at the very detailed process of making the wine, including vinification of the dozens and sometimes hundreds of separate parcels of grapes coming from the growers around the district and supplied under contract. Reins is 'like a cheese' we were told, with several hundred kms of cellars and passages cut under the district. Down in these cellars the bottles of champagne age in spectacular orderly stacks. Garde is in a tiny village called 'Chigny les Roses', on the outskirts of the city. What a darling place of old houses and narrow streets. We thought of our very own Chigny le Rose! On the surface the Champagne houses might not be much to go on but you forget what lies underground! That night we visited a restaurant in an adjoining town, our first Michelin star location. A beautiful old building full of oak floors and furniture, and then the dinner commenced. A degustation styled meal with an endless flow of tiny dishes, often 2 or 3 bought together in seamless service. We kept menu as there is just no other way to describe it than than produce of the region prepared to an exceptional standard and different Champagnes at every stage of the meal, from start to end. The next day got serious, and by 10 am we were in the House of Krug, sipping maybe the most famous Champagne in the world. We were in awe of their underground cellars as a 20 something young lady, dressed up including heels, took us through the process and talked about how they define and create their wine style. Krug Grand Cuvée is a blend of 120 wines, ranging over 12 vintages with the oldest components being typically 20 years old, on release. We finished with another tasting in their beautiful drawing room, library and tasting room complex. A walk through Reins to a local restaurant, and lunch of fois gras, poached cod and then a melted Camembert wrap of some sort. You know how it is having wine for lunch not to mention breakfast, the wheels fall off a bit in the afternoon. That's how it was so we decided to walk to the Cathedral that centers the city. It was a highlight of the Reins visit, as we wandered, breathless, around the old building where French Kings were crowned for a thousand years. Rebuilt again in gothic style, it froths with extravagant vaulted architecture and detail, not unlike Notre Dame. This church is in poorer condition with greenery on the roof on one corner and inside the dull walls of long occupation. But not many people around and we could walk in an almost quiet void of impossibly high arches and ceilings, stained glass and vestibules. Reins was battered during WW1 in particular - the area is full of references to it. Reins is worn but lovely, like one of the rural villages around it but on a greater scale, with a more municipal feel and wider street carriages. We returned to the hotel late afternoon and dressed for something special- a visit to Tattingers cellars, then to be driven to the Tattinger homestead in nearby Epernay. The cellars were something special, being of Roman origins and then the site of a medieval cathedral built directly overhead, now gone. But during its time the monks developed the cellar network for wine storage but also as an extension of their church. In WW2 the cellars, like many others, held soldiers and was an underground infirmary. Many local champagnes houses also stored and secretly walled in their Champagne supplies. The drive to the family homestead, called Maquetterie, bought us to an old but well maintained building on the slopes behind a village. Directly behind it was the vineyard called 'Folie de Maquetterie', being one of the Tattinger Champages. We enjoyed a superb evening of dinner service and champagne, in this incredible old building that is how ever many hundreds of years old. I got up at intervals to walk the gardens around the house, ringed by a high stone wall with the occassionally narrow gateway where you stepped out into the sea of vineyards of closely spaced and low pruned grape vines. Home by about midnight, for third night in a row, and barely remember lying down.

Hong Kong to Paris

Its our last day in Paris, after 2 nights in Hong Kong and 3 here in Paris. Today might be a more lazy day I think, after very full days usually involving long hours walking and sightseeing. It's almost impossible to not go out and try to take best advantage of where you are but the body has its limits! Central HK is something else with its soaring high rise glass towers and street level bustle, ranging from glamour department stores to cluttered stalls and markets. Highlights were seeing the city at night when it lights up like a galaxy, negotiating the crowded streets by foot, tram and subway, and our awesome level 23 hotel room overlooking it all. The whole city is teeming with activity which seems to centre around shopping and barter, including endless hawkers of fake watches, handbags and tailoring services. As visitors, carrying a camera and looking around, we got sick of being constantly approached but noticed it lessened with time maybe as we looked less obvious. We ate in a number of establishments with mixed results. One one occassion we tried Peking Duck, quite a sight as the chef slices and wraps the parcels of small thin rice flour crepes around slices of duck, cucumber and hoisin sauce. Our least successful attempt was at lunch in a more out of the way place with no English speaking staff. They basically gave up trying to get our order and ignored us from that point. Shanti got into one of her mighty mouse rages and eventually we got something, but we generaly expended more calories than received. I have to say what we got was good and that the great array of chinese cuisine on offer is incredible, not to mention the ships with so many inexplicable food and medicine items in them. The other very obvious aspect of HK is its wealth, which far exceeds anything we are used to seeing. The cars are a good example, with ferraris and such exotics in evidence, private chauffeurs and a very visible wealthy Chinese component, at least in the central districts. A tedious flight to Paris, then surprise at the airport where customs took about 10 seconds to stamp our passport and there was no customers procedure we just walked out! Maybe they already have every disease and scumbag there already so why bother to stop more? But it seemed strange. The 50 km or so drive to the city is flat and just another concrete jungle, cloaked in greyness, but that all changes as you enter the main city. It's a white city of limestone buildings, distinctive mid rise rather than high rise architecture and many cobbled streets. It's an old and grand city, and then there are the countless magnificent edifices and of course the great landmarks. We saw Sacre Couer as we drove in, then circled the Arc de Triumph, with the Eiffel Tower nearby. Through it all wound the Seine river. We arrived later evening but headed down the road from the hotel to sit at a crowded sidewalk cafe and have a glass of something and bite to eat. Then back to the pretty little hotel in the continuous line of handsome unseparated buildings that seem to line both sides of most streets in the area. Next morning, but fuzzy in the head so took the easy option and headed to the Eiffel Tower, only a few blocks away. We climbed it on foot (legs still hurt!)for the views of the city. Mon dieu it was crowded with massive queues at every portal. It was teeming. The structure itself seems like a something dreamed up by a kid with a mechano set, but it's much better than that. Perhaps rather industrial and souless, it is impressive in scale and then when you are within it it's quite beautiful with its orderly tangle of steel and the way it soars upwards. From there we taxied to Notre Dame, and then we knew where we were. The church is a powerhouse of history, sublime architecture and a magnet to huge crowds, again. But they flowed easily through the church, and It was a strong experience to walk through it then to circle around the exterior and admire something that would be surely impossible to build today. We wouldn't have the sheer audacity and craftsmanship to put it together. Getting home was interesting, as general weariness or was it meltdown set in. We had decided to wander away from the church and follow our noses through streets and alleys, admiring everything we saw, until someone flicked our off switches and we didn't know exactly where we were. But Shanti fell back on her old trick of asking for directions and remarkably we made it back almost to our door, by bus. Next day was Le Louvre, which we got to via metro and more walking. What a buzz walking into the massive open square that the Louvre surrounds on three sides, and to see the glass pyramids that the square is famed for. The building itself is just another colossal, formidable, palace like building which you see in many directions. This coincided with a bit of a physical low point so for a few minutes, much to my incredulousness, Shanti thought she didn't want to go in. Maybe the queues didn't help, about the time you felt less interest in standing in them. But we went and they moved freely. We headed into Shantis special areas of interest, the renaissance, and we're quite overwhelmed by what was there. The place is a bottomless well of original items throughout antiquity. Kncluding works of art and other artifacts we all know but which have so much more impact in person. We visited the Mona Lisa, where the sight of the throng standing in front of it was almost as exceptional as the painting. But the biggest thrill for both of us was to see Bottecelli, paintings we both adore (and which I associate with Granny Rose), and also the Statue of Aphrodite (Venus de Milo). Tremendous emotional impact on seeing these up close, the Venus quite awesome in its size and beauty. We didn't stay more than an hour or two you just cannot take it all in without becoming a sleep walker, so we headed out meanwhile passing artifacts from the Parthenon, MichealAngelo sculptures, and other suchlike. Arriving outside called for a beer, followed by the bright ideas to now visit the Musee D'Orsay. It was a dreamworld of impressionists such as Monet, Cezanne, Manet, Pissaro and others. It was a hot day and our legs were gone, getting back was not great with more walking and Metro, so we hot bathed and crashed for several hours before emerging about 8 pm to wander the district for a restaurant. Today, our last, we conquered the Metro, finally, and hit the Champs Élysées to see the Sunday crowds and magnificent shops that open on that stretch, whereas most other shops were shut, being Sunday. then on to MontmTre and Sacre Coeur, another superb church particularly with its hilltop location. Impressions of Paris and its people - quite different, cultured and urbane. Smart dressers, but from a casual base, eg a man might have jeans, but then good shoes, a crisp shirt and jacket. Low penetration of Americana, such as sports clothing, pierced youth, garbage take always etc. Girls love the high heels, even when cycling (without helmets). Loads of smoking. Plenty of everyone kissing everyone. Very sociable, gathering in crowds at curbside cafes, by late afternoon. The city itself is exceptional it rings with art and culture on an unimaginable scale. Posters in the subway for Opera, ballet, orchestras, antiquities exhibitions etc etc etc. Not technology mad - we literally have not seen a laptop and it would seem to be the height of bad manners to use cellphone or be distracted from your companions at hand. A great contrast from HK where we saw and commented on even couples dining together without even interacting because they are fully occupied with their electronic devices! Paris has a nice mood, it feels good, and life a pleasure. Many live in apartments in the endless buildings with large doors, lining the streets. Lots of youngsters studying, or at least carrying around drawing boards, a textbook or some indication of an interest. Expensive..... Tonight we are meeting our 19 travel companions for the circuit of France, and we are heading out on what will be our first real Paris restaurant experience. Shanti is lolling in the bath reading some formless book she bought in an airport, which she says is the best way to rest! I'm in bed where I will stay for another hour then it's get dressed up and head out into the night. Tomorrow - departing for Champagne. Sxx