Castle, Wine, Picnic – France’s Wonderful Facets


The region of Bergerac is famous for shimmering yellow sweet wine. Consequently, our first stop in the morning is Chateau Monbazillac, a castle surrounded by vineyards. Fortunately, this time we may find our own way through the building and do not have to follow a guided tour. The admission charge comes along with a flyer that offers information about the castle and its rooms, so all we miss is the repetition of “dö-dö” that still runs through our head from yesterday’s visit.


Rheingau or Médoc?

Lingering through the chambers, Linda and I fantasize how we will furnish our shared house in here. We agree on two large rooms and an oriel for each plus some common space in between. As we will probably take over the entire staff, I greet the gardener outside demonstrative friendly.


My Home is my Castle

The morning proceeds and it is time for the tasting: Linda tries the very sweet dessert wine and buys a bottle of it (if you are friend or family of Linda, please be ensured: yes, she did buy wine). After I take a sip from her glass, it is clear that we will not need to fight about it, it is all hers. For the choice of local white wines, I can confess that the least sweet one would be okay with fruits flambé, sunset and an austere man. However, it is unpredictable when all those ingredients get together, and consequently I rather go for six bottles of dry red wine.


In one of the villages on our way we stop for croissants, fruits and vegetables at the local market. Now fully equipped, we choose at random any of the Médoc vineyards for a picnic. Within a minute, we have our chairs outside and enjoy our culinaric prey in the sun.


We surely know how to hit the road

After the sightseeing overflow of the last two days, Hector then carries on to get Linda and me to a beach. We pass by Bordeaux (4th time so far), aiming for Europe’s largest sand dune. Only there I will learn that there is no use looking for a camp-site I knew 20 years ago: the dune wanders quite some meters every year and my ancient memories are long gone.


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