We didn’t realize that this was a holiday weekend, Veterans’ Day in the States. They still call it Armistice Day in France, the anniversary of the end of the “War to End All Wars.” If only!
You probably have heard of Saint-Èmilion wine—you may have uncorked a bottle or two. They have been making wine in the area since Roman times and Saint-Èmilion is the first ever wine region to receive World Heritage status. We didn’t come for the wine—well, maybe a bottle at lunch—but to see the medieval village. And it’s a good thing we left Bordeaux early—it seems like half of France had the same idea. The morning rain gave way to fog as we searched for place to park and it was slow going on the wet cobbles as we walked back into the past.
Saint-Èmilion is named for an 8th Century Breton monk who settled down in a local cave back when the town was known as Accumbus. Over time his miracles attracted so many pilgrims and religious orders that Saint-Èmilion became an important stop on the French branch of the Camino de Santiago. His cave supposedly inspired the Monolithic Church—its soaring bell tower was a later addition.
Connie and I ducked into the cloister of the Collegiate Church while Chris and Rose went looking for Tourist Information. As I passed through a door the sweet smell of incense and the Latin murmurings told me I had stepped into a service in the Collegiate Church. Good Heavens! Fearing a roof collapse—or worse, I snapped a photo and quickly exited to the cloister to find Connie.
We could see folks below us from the base of the clock tower and went searching for a way down. We tread carefully on the uneven cobbles but I wonder how many tourists suffer sprained ankles. In the courtyard we realized we had been standing on top of the Monolithic Church. The Church and Catacombs are open only to guided tours and the groups were already mobbing the entrance so we moved on after a few photos. There was plenty more to see. Chris soon joined us, having left Rose and her trekking pole contentedly at the top of the incline.
With the increasing throng and the approach of lunchtime, we gathered Rose while Chris ducked into La Côte Braisée to see about lunch. He was able to get us a table in a back room carved into the limestone just before the crowds arrived. The food was as good as the ambiance; soupe à l’oignon and bœuf bourguignon served by the Iranian owner himself. And a bottle of Saint-Èmilion’s finest, of course.
Back in town we finished the weekend with an organ concert at the Church of Saint-Croix this evening. Connie had noticed the poster on one of her morning walks and it seemed a fitting end to our time in Bordeaux. The music, mostly Handel, finished with the “Hallelujah Corus” from “Messiah.” I was all set to stand up but when our English friends didn’t budge, I defied tradition and kept my seat. Later when I thanked one of the chorus members, she said she kept looking for someone standing.
