Traveling Through the French Province of Champagne-Ardenne
The sky above the outskirts of Paris is slashed in every direction. Tilting my head back, I watch six airplanes flying high overhead on parallel courses. Their white trails stretch from afar, and it seems as though someone is leisurely scratching the sky with a giant fork. Cutting across their path two more aircraft rush by a little lower, and at that very moment another five appear on the horizon, spreading across the sky like a bouquet. Air traffic here is extremely dense: the capital of France is one of the world’s major transportation hubs.
Admiring the French sky is a pleasure in itself. High, bright, lively, it is filled with warm sunshine unusual for autumn. Its saturated color beautifully frames the surroundings: green ridges of vineyards, yellow squares of fields, dark patches of forest plantations. Not a soul around — farmland stretches on both sides of the road from horizon to horizon. It would be lovely to come here in August, if not with a telescope, then at least with a warm blanket, to gaze all night into the bottomless darkness and count falling stars…
Along rolling hills and smooth plains, I am driving toward the “capital of champagne” — the town of Épernay. Here are the headquarters of the world’s largest producers of champagne wines, and it was in these very lands that this extraordinary drink was invented nearly five hundred years ago.
Épernay, famous worldwide for its wine cellars, is a miniature and exquisitely elegant little town. It has only twenty-six thousand inhabitants, and almost all of them are connected in some way with champagne production. One of its central streets is called Avenue de Champagne — “Champagne Avenue.” The most expensive varieties of the drink are produced here. Hundreds of thousands of bottles of precious wine are stored in deep cellars beneath it. Any of them can be sampled in the tasting rooms of the Champagne houses or in the numerous wine boutiques scattered across the town.
Six kilometers from Épernay lies a small village called Hautvillers. It is home to Champagne’s chief “sanctuary” — the ancient Abbey of Saint-Pierre d’Hautvillers, where the monk Pierre Pérignon once served. According to legend, it was he who, experimenting with winemaking, first began blending the juices of different grape varieties, proposed storing champagne not in barrels but in bottles (to retain its carbon dioxide), introduced cork oak bark as stoppers, and ultimately created that very sparkling drink that made this province famous around the world.
The villagers treat the stories about Pérignon with humor. Michel Mermillot, a handsome man in his sixties, smiles slyly when asked how true these legends are: “We have no proof it wasn’t so. So let it be believed that Pérignon was the first. We don’t object!”
The surrounding vineyards are bordered with blooming rosebushes. It looks beautiful, but there is practical sense in it too. Roses serve as a kind of barrier that protects the vines from aphids. The tradition of planting rosebushes around vineyards dates back to the Middle Ages, when French monks searched for ways to improve the quality of the harvest. “The best fertilizer for a vineyard is the owner’s footprint,” says a French proverb. It is hard to argue: the more carefully the vines are tended, the richer the harvest.
Leaving this picturesque, almost toy-like village is difficult. The warm autumn sun gilds the low old houses with flowers on their windowsills. Some buildings are overgrown with ivy from the pavement to the roof, making the streets of Hautvillers even cozier. Nothing here offends the ear or the eye: everywhere is silence, calm, and an understated, refined, quintessentially French beauty. There are few tourists, and those who come seek not so much rest as renewal. Here it is easy to break away from the daily rush, to stop, reflect, and begin anew.
There is no shortage of such remarkable places in Champagne. After Hautvillers, my route leads to the city of Troyes, about 120 kilometers away. Its history is astonishing. As early as the 1st century BCE it was conquered by Julius Caesar. The Troy weight system, still used today to measure precious metals, was invented here. In 1129 the city hosted the adoption of the Templar Rule, and in 1429 Troyes celebrated Joan of Arc.
The streets of Troyes still look like scenery from a film about medieval knights. The tall timber-framed houses in the city center have stood since the 12th–16th centuries: their owners strive to preserve every beam and every step that holds historical value, replacing only what is truly beyond repair. From the outside, some buildings appear noticeably tilted, yet inside they contain fully modern, comfortable homes. Here reverence for history coexists harmoniously with scientific and technological progress.
One longs to walk these ancient streets, touching the old walls and massive wooden doors that have somehow survived hundreds of years. After finally spotting a free space along the curb, I wonder how to squeeze the car into it. A passing elderly lady guesses my intentions and gestures for me to lower the window. “I’ll help you! Of course, there’s very little room, but everything is possible. Turn the wheel — be bolder! You have such a lovely car!”
All of Champagne is akin to a fine champagne itself: something to be savored slowly, in pleasant company. With great reluctance I leave Troyes, having barely brushed against its intricate medieval charm. This delicate beauty cannot be appreciated in haste. Every building here is a story, every street a legend. But ahead awaits an even more remarkable place — Reims, the city of kings, the jewel of modern Champagne.
On the highway from Troyes to Reims the speed limit is 130 km/h, but, truth be told, there is little desire to race. Outside, hills and plains drift past once again. In the distance, red-tiled roofs of solitary farmhouses flash by. Huge wind turbines standing almost by the roadside are motionless: today is sunny again, without a hint of wind.
As befits a major city, Reims begins with residential districts, straight streets, and concrete apartment blocks. But the closer to the center, the more intricate and engaging it becomes. There are more cars on the streets, and pedestrians hurry along much faster than on the outskirts.
At the heart of Reims stands its main landmark: Reims Cathedral, the traditional coronation site of French monarchs. The first church on this site was built in the 5th century CE, and the cathedral in its present form began to rise over 800 years ago, in 1211.
The tradition of crowning kings here arose long before this extraordinary cathedral was built. For fifteen centuries, the rulers of France who ascended the throne came here to receive anointing with the sacred chrism that only the local archbishop possessed. According to legend, this holy oil had divine origins: an angel in the form of a dove brought it to Reims. The vessel was opened only during coronations to take from it a few precious drops.
Today Reims is one of the largest cities in France. At midday, during the lunch break, its streets fill with a colorful crowd heading to cafés and restaurants. Young Afro-French women with baby strollers move slowly through the bustle, often stopping before bright shop windows.
It is still sunny here, and the high sky is once again streaked with white scars left by passing planes. Soon I too will have to fly back, to my rainy autumn… But for now, with a whole evening and night still ahead, I can finally slow down, leave the day’s commotion behind, and enjoy the taste of dry champagne — light and enchanting, like France itself.
Text and photos by Yulia Zemtsova
Translated from Russian by Sofia Zemtsova
