It was a day of subtlety and astonishment. Like the precious, almost ephemeral poppies springing up among highly cultivated and sophisticated grand cru grape vines, the medieval village of St.-Emilion quietly -- almost impudently -- rests among the grand chateaux of the world's most famous wine region. Such a town seems to come from fairy tales or over-active nineteenth-century imaginations. Were it not there, our modern fantasies would have to invent it.
Founded some time in the Roman period -- if not before as some sort of "primitive," pre-literate settlement -- the village of St.-Emilion boasts catacombs from the Roman era, but so much more. A remnant of the wall from an early Middle Ages priory signals the entrance to the village. Dank, dark and mystical, its subterranean church is carved out of solid limestone, flanked by a hermitage for a lonely monk, itself below ground level in this infinitely complicated terrain.
Above ground is a motor-free walking space with narrow passages and winding alleys that so well bespeak a town that has been a favored site for Dominican, Benedictine, and Augustine monks. The very ambiance elides the formal distinctions between myth and fact, memory and dream. Stony walkways invite one to wander among a small number of very precious yet very innovative craft shops which, despite their enviable placement in a business sense, seem to be so modest in their presentation and pricing. Confession: my wife will adore the hand-crafted silk blouse I bought for her birthday, so I am seduced by the magic of the place and the romance it exudes.
And can one do better than to follow it all up-and to close a warm, joyous day before a departure from the fine harbor of Bordeaux-can one do better than to visit one of the finest Grand Cru chateaux than that of Fonplegade, a world-famous site for wine production and tasting? A splendid time was had by all, indeed…
