St. Emilion

On one of our last days in France, we wine stumbled into the stunning town of St Emilion. That sounds more drunk than it was. Chuck drove, didn't drink, Natasha and I sipped and gulped our rose and reds with gusto. The memories are scant, mostly because the trip was so long ago now, but it was way beautiful, beautiful.



I think the day and the trip was so perfect because we just closed our eyes, pointed to the map and went. It involved slightly more planning than that, but not that much more.

old roman city walls, i think






Then we sought the elusive chateaux of Michel de Montaigne, the famous, and long-dead french essayist. This involved another map pointing session, some gesticulated conversations and a hunch on the correct road to follow(not mine). We arrived an hour later.
gallic shrug, chuck just practising the ways of the french

It was closed. But on our last french day, it so wasn't.