The bus failed to start while
the passengers were finishing up the last minute purchases at the souvenir
shop. It was not surprising that the bus was going through some mechanical problems,
the 50-year jalopy would be disintegrated by a light summer wind; the pitfalls of
having a vintage tour on a “vintage” bus around the champagne region.
Stefano had bought a small wine
guide to the best wine houses in the region. As an eternal newbie, reading the
pros was a good way to set the course for the next experience. The late summer
/ early autumn weather of Aÿ with a light French breeze brushing through the
pages of Stefano’s new favorite companion made the wait for the auto club to arrive
quite pleasant. The Japanese tourists with 2-pound Nikon cameras hanging around
their necks were not even noticing the fuzz around the bus as the gift shop
managed to catch their full attention.
On the other side of the road,
looking impatiently to the hopeless over weighted bus driver, some French families
chatted while puffing their cigarettes. Looking aloof, a lightly blond young
boy seemed trapped into his own thoughts while managing not to be caught
breathing the smoke from their relatives’ cigs.
Stefano always had an eye to
spot the unusual as he found that always intriguing and curious. As some
Japanese were requesting a group picture, he left his thoughts aside for a
while. Despite being attracted to details, Stefano enjoyed the perks of being
in a big group of tourists from different backgrounds, either with a cigarette or
a lollypop comforting their lips.
The chubby old driver finally
managed to get the bus’ engine running and off they went cruising around the land
where grapes are turned into magic.
Stefano was looking for a
place in front row, however some avid Americans had beaten him to it. He had to
settle on a comfy 3rd row with the seat warmed by the sun which was
still kind enough to grant his presence. Luckily, nobody sat next to our friend
and he could enjoy some moments with his thoughts. The old bus was now struggling
to overcome the small hills that colored the background while at the end of a
bumpy road the Abbey of Hautvillers could be spotted. Many years ago, Dom Perignon,
together with Dom Ruinart, made some very successful wine experiments in that
very house, which is now a small museum dedicated to this expertise.
Inside the bus, on the next
row, the curious boy, accompanied by his grandpa (at least it seemed to be),
was entertained by a full colored map with nice drawings of the regions’
landmarks.
Grandpa was explaining that
since many years men had developed many crafts and little by little, generation
by generation, things were being improved; one detail after another, from
father to son. It is hard to determine the essence or when a certain quality
has been created, as a process built over time, perfection requires continuous
efforts. Grandpa seemed to be a well versed man and Stefano left one of his
ears connected to this old man’s thoughts.
- You know, Daniel, I’ve been here and there - Grandpa said… and I have accomplished quite a few things in life. I can remember from my early days as a street artist that the hardest thing to do was not to catch someone’s attention. That’s was quite easy in fact; a set of shiny clothes, a loud voice, those things would do the trick, but only to catch an eye for a couple of seconds.
Grandpa, continued with a
contagious enthusiasm:
- Having people’s attention, to get them on the hook, there’s got to be a mystery somewhere; one’s mind must be intrigued. If you know what comes next, you are no longer interested, my dear. Produce the unexpected and you have won yourself an admirer; reveal the secret and the allure is gone!
Stefano wondered if Grandpa
had been a magician or perhaps a con man in the good old days. One of those well
dressed fellows with a tinny mustache who places a big checkered cloth in the
center of a square or in a small corner of a street market and try to earn some
money by making people get out of their reality even if for some minutes. A
good magician makes the impossible believable, plays with your perception and
twists the reality. At the end of the show, Stefano thought, a magician bows as
a sign of gratitude and respect, but one thing never happens, he never reveals
the trick. Once the code to crack the puzzle is given, the magic is lost.
The bus passed through the
old stone gate, entering the courtyard of the prestigious Veuve Clicquot. A visit
to the cellars was arranged with a small tasting afterwards. Stefano was
killing time looking at some old advertising posters while the guide was not
starting the tour when Daniel run passes him and rushes down some stairs. As
appealing as those ads were, Stefano couldn’t help not following the kid
downstairs and explore the cellars on his own.
After quite a few dozen steps,
he reached the cellar and could immediately feel the proper temperature to
store wine… a chilly temperature combined with an almost unpleasant humidity
set the scene for this solo flight through the underground. Countless racks
with thousands of bottles were quietly resting all around, aging to perfection,
in absolute silence.
Silence was only broken by the
sounds of the featherweight footsteps of Daniel. They seemed to be coming from
everywhere, echoing all around the cellar, until it suddenly stopped. It was
silence again. Stefano was intrigued, normally when kids are in silence,
something bad just happened (usually caused by them).
Stefano approach Daniel, who
was facing a wall that gave the impression of hiding a secret passage, but
actually just hid a dusty sort of shelf apparently forgotten in time. Stefano
touched the kid on the shoulder as both contemplated the work that only time
could do.
A tangle of dust, cobwebs and
some remnants of past centuries adorned some green cast cylinders. A little
hesitant, Daniel helped Stefano to get rid of obstacles for a clearer view of
what was laying there for generations. Some labelless bottles with no
indication besides the inscription “1811” were making company to the cobwebs. Stefano
was able to stop Daniel in time before he popped one of the corks that almost
crumbled just by looking at them.
Could these be the last
bottles of the legendary 1811 vintage, known as the first of the comet vintages?
Comet vintages are the ones during which a "Great Comet” passes by close
to our planet prior to harvest. Throughout wine’s history and legend,
winemakers have attributed acclaimed vintages and proper climate conditions to
the almost esoteric effects of comets.
How would this wine taste
like? Would all the legends involving the 1811 comet vintage hold true? All
these answers and the experience to taste of the past were just one cork away;
all the secrets which were trapped inside that bottle for more than 200 years
could be revealed.
Stefano looked at the bottle
for one last time, gently placed it back to its cobwebbed nest, took Daniel by
the hand and went back to meet the group. As Grandpa said, some secrets are
meant to remain secrets and some mysteries are better left unsolved.
