When I think wine, I don't think Switzerland. I think Italy, France, and California. But, lo and behold, the vineyards of France are just an arbitrary political border away, and grapevines know no such bounds. The climate that produces globally lauded Bordeauxs and Burgundys can also be found right up the hill from my current home, in a town even smaller than Rolle: Féchy.
La Fête du Raisin was another wonderful display of small town pride and European cheer. Nestled in an expanse of striped vineyards, the village of Féchy doesn't have much more than a pretty steeple and their grape harvest, but they make the most of it. The town was swarmed by children jetting around on scooters, families clambering aboard the green train and British expatriates guffawing over glasses of pale Pinot Gris and plates of assorted cheeses. I won't pretend to know much about wine (I just ordered red whenever possible and got drunk with my boyfriend) but I do know the ingredients for a well-executed festival: booze, music and food, all of which were present in abundance.
