This morning started out with anticipation and wonderment. Leaving Luxembourg for the Champagne region of France! Only 200 km to a land of lightly rolling hills, regal Chateaus, storied Champagne houses, and tiny bubbles. By mid-day it had changed to disillusionment, but I digress. The plan was to leave Luxembourg early and head for Rheims, the capital of Champagne. The journey started out nice and mellow. We decided to take the back roads, so the country side would be wide open. At times this can become a precarious situation, especially when a 10ft. vehicle is towing a 20ft vehicle. There's never much room for error or room to turn back. Many times you find yourself in very small towns with roads so narrow you feel as though you can almost touch the walls of the buildings. The payoff that comes along with the back roads are well worth the risks. We happened upon a small town with a roadside open air market containing crafts, antiques, WWI and WWII memorabilia including grenade carriers. The latter being an unexpected find for a flea market in the U.S., but maybe not so uncommon here? The whole community seemed to turn out for the Sunday haggle fest. The aroma of the food mixed with the local personalities put me in the mood for things to come. As we crossed the border into France I expected the Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, and Pinot Meunieur vines to miraculously appear. When the vines didn't appear I figured my right brain, the side that romances wine, was just being overactive. Surely the vines would appear as soon as we reached the famed Champagne region? we neared the town of Rheims without a single sign of the vine. I kept thinking to myself "around the next bend, over the next hill or in the next valley the vineyards will open their welcoming leaves".
We finally arrived in vineless Rheims. If we were going to explore this famed region we needed to find a place to dock the RV. Unfortunately, our campsite book (Vol. 2) omitted France. For that we needed Vol. 1 which we didn't have. So, we were going to rely on Mio (our trusty GPS which has maps augmented with campsite info). But alas, Mio seemed to also know nothing of the campsites in France. Oh well, we had it on good advice that campsites were easy to stumble across so we kept driving, hoping for a bit of serendipity.
As we drove, we spotted a cluster of RVs out in the middle of a hay field. I would nicely describe the surroundings as "scruffy". This wasn't my idea of a Champagne experience but I was road weary and up for the challenge of a little culture shock. Up on inquiry, however, the group informed us that the site had 'nary an appealing accoutremont and wasn't a public camp site. Why these squatters had chosen this barren spot to set up camp escaped us. They pointed us to a public camp site and we continued to drive. We soon found out that the second campground was full.
We tried to keep a good attitude by saying things like "challenges are just part of the adventure of traveling". However, I can safely say we were both unprepared for the social dissonance we were about to encounter. We had left Rheims for the surrounding farmland hoping to stumble across a campground, or if not that, a hotel. We saw a road side "friteur" and stopped to see if they could help us. The lady just mostly seemed annoyed that we didn't want a frite and pointed to the woods, waved her hand dismissively and said "Oui, camping" as she turned her attention back to a soap opera on the tele.
So, we soldiered on. As we drove away from the road into the woods, we neared an encampment of 20 or so RVs of various old makes and models. Having already started into it's one lane road (barely more than a foot path really) and Paris having a big turning radius, we had to continue on. As we neared and got a better look Bruce summed it up with "this ain't good". He drove forward looking for a place to turn around inside the circle of RVs. As we were absorbed into the belly of the encampment, it became awkwardly obvious that the whole community was staring intently and gathering around us. We had started to become accustomed to the scrutiny that orange hair and the engineering marvel that is Paris, were want to attract but this was different. It appeared that these folk were unaccustomed to outsiders intruding into their land. But the intensity of the stares, the gathering cluster of people, their dress, and the very run down squalor of the enclave was actually physically intimidating.
Some of the residents started dancing while others laughed and pointed at their unexpected visitors from California. One teenish girl stepped into path of the RV and did a provocative dance. I was ready to get out of there fast. Suppressing the healthy urge to get the heck out of there, we stopped the RV, (with the girl blocking our path, did we have any other choice)? I said, "Let's roll up out of here," though there was really no way to do that. So, Bruce stepped out and in his best French (which is quite horrible) asked about the fees and services offered at the park.
Before we could back up and leave, a man that can be described as a leader of the town and his entourage (a woman and two young men) approached us. The folks watched as if we had arrived on horse back and were bravely going before a well-armed chief with his warriors at his back. As the tension of this very surreal situation heightened, I went into full defense mode. I mentally started to prepare for most anything to happen. I was ready to grab the tire iron if need be. As the "chief" drew closer, Bruce stammered out more questions about where we might find another more suitable campground. I stayed in the car with the windows rolled down waiting to see if I was gonna have to use that trusty tire iron. As I waited the encampments young ladies began to approach me and they started dancing, again, somewhat suggestively. The older ladies in the group seemed to approve of their provocative displays. At this point I was thinking "what in the world is going on?" I wondered if a wedding was being planned and I was to pick out which young lady I wanted as a bride. Was Bruce going to have to negotiate the terms of my union with the town leaders in order to save his own skin? I wouldn't put it past him. A few minutes, that seemed like hours, passed and Bruce got in the car. He murmured without moving his lips, "let's get the heck out of here". We quickly left the encampment. The town's leader was actually fairly nice and with his advice we continued our search. We were later told that the encampments are set up around many cities in Europe as bases for transients and beggars tht come into the towns and ask for money. I can't confirm that, but I will say it was one of the most surreal moments I have ever experienced. Sorry mom. No new daughter-in-law for you.
After driving around for nearly 3 hours, we were able to piggy back on someones wi-fi connection and find a local campground. 15 minutes later we arrived in one of the most beautiful places, Epernay, the real capital of Champagne.
I woke up early this morning bright eyed and bushy tailed. I'm in Champagne!! It's an unreal feeling. The sky is the bluest blue I have ever seen and as I looked up at the large clouds floating by, they all seem to be in the shape of Champagne bottles and the smaller clouds corks. OK. I do have a tendency to over romanticize but you get the picture.
Our campsite is located a stones throw away from a beautiful meandering canal. We also have views of the distant hills towns and the rows of Pinot Noir and Chardonnay as they line up in perfect form, working their way up the gently rolling hills.
Today we hopped on our bikes and began the 25 minute uphill trek into the town of Vauciennes. The ride is absolutely incredible. Pinot vines stretch as far as the eye can see. As the pavement turned from asphalt to cobble stone, I began to think of how cool it was going to be to have a glass of Champagne in Champagne. We finally arrived and our reward for the, uhmm grueling bike ride awaits. We parked our bikes right next to a 18th century chateau with a lovely courtyard. Yes. This is gonna be a great day.
Wine tasting in Champagne is quite different than what you may think. First, you walk up to the chateau and ring the bell at the gate. This can be a bit intimidating. We rang the bell to the first chateau. No answer. We rang the second chateau and then the third, still no answer. Finally, at the fourth chateau an elderly lady answered the door and invited us in. She began to pull out bottles of Champagne and in French explained how wonderful her Champagne was. We explained to her that we would like to try a few tastes before we buy. She explained she wasn't set up for tastings. When we asked for suggestions on where we could taste, she said "come back in 2 weeks, everyone is on vacation”. Huh? She explained the whole town goes on vacation the weeks proceeding harvest. Wow! A whole town on vacation. This was the common theme in every small village we encountered. Needless to say, the bike ride back wasn't nearly as fun as the ride there was.
Later that night, we went to the food van that parks at the campsite. They actually do great food and they have a 30 bottle wine selection. A wine selection of this size is something you don't necessarily expect from something akin a California burrito vans. While there we met two young ladies, Paula and Brenda from London. They told us how much fun they had earlier in the day at a really cool Champagne bar in Epernay. On their recommendation, we decided to bike to the bar the next day. Biking in the town of Epernay is a neat experience. You pedal down The Avenue Du Champagne, past grand mansions, famous Champagne houses, and 3 star restaurants. At this point, I'm feeling positive once again, that I may finally have my story book Champagne experience. We arrived at the Champagne bar, named Commune de Champagne. It was a hip, modern, and friendly spot. It seemed almost out of place in Champagne, which can be a bit stuffy.
We sat at the bar and tasted through five Champagnes, from rosé to blanc de blanc, they were all very good. A fellow at the bar even offered us a try of his newly purchased bottle. The proprietor was a gracious host. He even let me come back behind the bar and check out the operation. He is a pioneer of sorts in Champagne. He pays respect to the established Champagne community but has a vision beyond the status quo. We had such a wonderful experience that we went back to the Champagne bar later in the evening with Paula and Brenda. It was fun listening to their experiences on visiting some of the stuffier, more prestigious Champagne houses. Apparently, when you visit these revered insitutions, you should be very knowlegeable on Champagne and you must also be dressed as though you stepped off the cover of Vogue. They, Paula and Brenda, had very little knowledge and were basically in levi's. They laughed their way through the whole experience, much to the dismay of their super-model tour guide.
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