Visiting Champagne
280
Autumn has descended on Paris and has brought
with it shorter days, a crispness in the air, the scent of burning
leaves and the annual grape harvest. I decided to arrange a surprise
get-away weekend with my special canine and soul mate, Wilamena. This
year we would head to the Champagne region of France and partake of the
festivity. Because it had been highly recommended, I chose to visit the
museum and vineyard of Monsieur Bernard Launois. Located in the village
of Le Mesnil Sur Oger and just south of Epernay, it is only 150 Kms
southeast of Paris.
So
Wilamena and I set off shortly after six-thirty that Saturday morning
along the A4. Two hours later we arrived in champagne country. Green
and purple vineyards everywhere, bursting with grapes. Even the weather
cooperated that morning with a bright blue sky and sunshine, despite
the previous week of rain. There were seventy people in the group that
particular day. Not only were we the only canines, we found out later
that we were the only Americans to ever visit Monsieur Launois’
vineyard. Later in the day, this would prove to me make me a bit of a
celebrity. And visiting this specific museum and vineyard is indeed an
all day affair. Promptly at nine o’clock we were invited into a very
large warehouse-type building for breakfast. We were broken up into
three groups and given baseball caps of blue, yellow, and green with
the Launois logo on front.
Wilamena
and I were the “blue group.” Long, family-style tables awaited us and
in buffet fashion we helped ourselves to bread, cheese, meat, and
unlimited glasses of pink champagne. Which I found out is made from the
Pinot Noir grape, adding to the pink shade. Forty-five minutes later we
were outside waiting to board our transport out to the vineyards to cut
the grapes. There were two modes of transportation: one was a decrepit,
rusty, broken down old bus driven by Monsieur Launois himself and the
other was a WWII military truck, complete with bench in back and tarp
over it. Neither one looked as if it could make it out of the parking
lot, never mind the ten minute ride to the vineyard.
Wilamena
and I were assigned to the military truck. Amidst much laughing, we
bumped and jounced our way along the pothole ruts in the dirt road and
somehow actually arrived there via the truck. We were immediately given
a plastic bucket with a pair of secateurs and guided to our row of
grapes. Although I could not visually see the end of this row, I was
not too concerned as I thought perhaps we would merely cut a few grapes
and only be in the vineyard long enough to say we had actually cut
grapes for the making of champagne. Wrong! This was indeed serious
business and for the following two days my aching back proved it! I
quickly developed the knack of cutting the branch and allowing the
cluster of grapes to fall into my paw, thereby reducing the chance of
cutting my paw instead of the grape branch.
Two
hours later when we finished, I was also proud of the fact that I
managed to escape any injury when I saw the casualties and blood from
my fellow grape pickers…..But all in the name of champagne! Although
most of the other French pickers continued along at a good pace, very
intent on their chore, I am after all American and as such, we are
entitled to a break according to the labor laws.
I
paused and looked around and was caught up in the moment. Feeling very
insignificant, surrounded by miles of vineyards for as far as the eye
could see, it will always be one of those memories that gets frozen in
time. It was a glorious, cool, autumn morning with the sun shining
brightly on the French countryside. Looking around I could see caps of
blue, yellow and green bobbing up and down cutting the grapes. The only
sound I could hear was a bagpipe player walking back and forth at the
end of the grape rows and the click, click, click of the secateurs. It
was like stepping back in time, as I realized that the Launois family
and their workers had been doing this exact chore at these vineyards
since 1872. And, for a moment, time stood still.
Copyright © 2000 Paris New Media, L.L.C.
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Autumn has descended on Paris and has brought
with it shorter days, a crispness in the air, the scent of burning
leaves and the annual grape harvest. I decided to arrange a surprise
get-away weekend with my special canine and soul mate, Wilamena. This
year we would head to the Champagne region of France and partake of the
festivity. Because it had been highly recommended, I chose to visit the
museum and vineyard of Monsieur Bernard Launois. Located in the village
of Le Mesnil Sur Oger and just south of Epernay, it is only 150 Kms
southeast of Paris.
with it shorter days, a crispness in the air, the scent of burning
leaves and the annual grape harvest. I decided to arrange a surprise
get-away weekend with my special canine and soul mate, Wilamena. This
year we would head to the Champagne region of France and partake of the
festivity. Because it had been highly recommended, I chose to visit the
museum and vineyard of Monsieur Bernard Launois. Located in the village
of Le Mesnil Sur Oger and just south of Epernay, it is only 150 Kms
southeast of Paris.
So
Wilamena and I set off shortly after six-thirty that Saturday morning
along the A4. Two hours later we arrived in champagne country. Green
and purple vineyards everywhere, bursting with grapes. Even the weather
cooperated that morning with a bright blue sky and sunshine, despite
the previous week of rain. There were seventy people in the group that
particular day. Not only were we the only canines, we found out later
that we were the only Americans to ever visit Monsieur Launois’
vineyard. Later in the day, this would prove to me make me a bit of a
celebrity. And visiting this specific museum and vineyard is indeed an
all day affair. Promptly at nine o’clock we were invited into a very
large warehouse-type building for breakfast. We were broken up into
three groups and given baseball caps of blue, yellow, and green with
the Launois logo on front.
Wilamena and I set off shortly after six-thirty that Saturday morning
along the A4. Two hours later we arrived in champagne country. Green
and purple vineyards everywhere, bursting with grapes. Even the weather
cooperated that morning with a bright blue sky and sunshine, despite
the previous week of rain. There were seventy people in the group that
particular day. Not only were we the only canines, we found out later
that we were the only Americans to ever visit Monsieur Launois’
vineyard. Later in the day, this would prove to me make me a bit of a
celebrity. And visiting this specific museum and vineyard is indeed an
all day affair. Promptly at nine o’clock we were invited into a very
large warehouse-type building for breakfast. We were broken up into
three groups and given baseball caps of blue, yellow, and green with
the Launois logo on front.
Wilamena
and I were the “blue group.” Long, family-style tables awaited us and
in buffet fashion we helped ourselves to bread, cheese, meat, and
unlimited glasses of pink champagne. Which I found out is made from the
Pinot Noir grape, adding to the pink shade. Forty-five minutes later we
were outside waiting to board our transport out to the vineyards to cut
the grapes. There were two modes of transportation: one was a decrepit,
rusty, broken down old bus driven by Monsieur Launois himself and the
other was a WWII military truck, complete with bench in back and tarp
over it. Neither one looked as if it could make it out of the parking
lot, never mind the ten minute ride to the vineyard.
and I were the “blue group.” Long, family-style tables awaited us and
in buffet fashion we helped ourselves to bread, cheese, meat, and
unlimited glasses of pink champagne. Which I found out is made from the
Pinot Noir grape, adding to the pink shade. Forty-five minutes later we
were outside waiting to board our transport out to the vineyards to cut
the grapes. There were two modes of transportation: one was a decrepit,
rusty, broken down old bus driven by Monsieur Launois himself and the
other was a WWII military truck, complete with bench in back and tarp
over it. Neither one looked as if it could make it out of the parking
lot, never mind the ten minute ride to the vineyard.
Wilamena
and I were assigned to the military truck. Amidst much laughing, we
bumped and jounced our way along the pothole ruts in the dirt road and
somehow actually arrived there via the truck. We were immediately given
a plastic bucket with a pair of secateurs and guided to our row of
grapes. Although I could not visually see the end of this row, I was
not too concerned as I thought perhaps we would merely cut a few grapes
and only be in the vineyard long enough to say we had actually cut
grapes for the making of champagne. Wrong! This was indeed serious
business and for the following two days my aching back proved it! I
quickly developed the knack of cutting the branch and allowing the
cluster of grapes to fall into my paw, thereby reducing the chance of
cutting my paw instead of the grape branch.
and I were assigned to the military truck. Amidst much laughing, we
bumped and jounced our way along the pothole ruts in the dirt road and
somehow actually arrived there via the truck. We were immediately given
a plastic bucket with a pair of secateurs and guided to our row of
grapes. Although I could not visually see the end of this row, I was
not too concerned as I thought perhaps we would merely cut a few grapes
and only be in the vineyard long enough to say we had actually cut
grapes for the making of champagne. Wrong! This was indeed serious
business and for the following two days my aching back proved it! I
quickly developed the knack of cutting the branch and allowing the
cluster of grapes to fall into my paw, thereby reducing the chance of
cutting my paw instead of the grape branch.
Two
hours later when we finished, I was also proud of the fact that I
managed to escape any injury when I saw the casualties and blood from
my fellow grape pickers…..But all in the name of champagne! Although
most of the other French pickers continued along at a good pace, very
intent on their chore, I am after all American and as such, we are
entitled to a break according to the labor laws.
hours later when we finished, I was also proud of the fact that I
managed to escape any injury when I saw the casualties and blood from
my fellow grape pickers…..But all in the name of champagne! Although
most of the other French pickers continued along at a good pace, very
intent on their chore, I am after all American and as such, we are
entitled to a break according to the labor laws.
I
paused and looked around and was caught up in the moment. Feeling very
insignificant, surrounded by miles of vineyards for as far as the eye
could see, it will always be one of those memories that gets frozen in
time. It was a glorious, cool, autumn morning with the sun shining
brightly on the French countryside. Looking around I could see caps of
blue, yellow and green bobbing up and down cutting the grapes. The only
sound I could hear was a bagpipe player walking back and forth at the
end of the grape rows and the click, click, click of the secateurs. It
was like stepping back in time, as I realized that the Launois family
and their workers had been doing this exact chore at these vineyards
since 1872. And, for a moment, time stood still.
paused and looked around and was caught up in the moment. Feeling very
insignificant, surrounded by miles of vineyards for as far as the eye
could see, it will always be one of those memories that gets frozen in
time. It was a glorious, cool, autumn morning with the sun shining
brightly on the French countryside. Looking around I could see caps of
blue, yellow and green bobbing up and down cutting the grapes. The only
sound I could hear was a bagpipe player walking back and forth at the
end of the grape rows and the click, click, click of the secateurs. It
was like stepping back in time, as I realized that the Launois family
and their workers had been doing this exact chore at these vineyards
since 1872. And, for a moment, time stood still.
Copyright © 2000 Paris New Media, L.L.C.
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