EXCERPT FROM SARA’S JOURNALNovember 19, 1998
Cameyrac et St. Sulpice
The vineyards between Cameyrac and St. Emilion are overwhelming.
Chateaux after Chateaux line the green and rolling roadsides. Cheval Blanc, Margaux,
Palmer, Gruaud-Larose and Vieux Chateau Certan. The fields of grapevines are marked with
signs attributing the Chateaux to which they belong. The odd farmer inspects the vines or
burns leaves in a hazy dome. Most of the plants are black stumps now, lined up in rows,
bare and revealing their stick-supports. The fields are a Flanders of the season’s
wines and the death cycle of the harvest.
St. Emilion is built on the slopes of a limestone plateau overlooking
the Dordogne Valley. It’s a perfect medieval city, emerging when the 8th
century hermit Emilion carved out a cave for himself in the limestone and a monastery
followed. The 13th century walls and winding ramparts remain, enclosing densely
rowed caves that offer a taste of the valley’s finest wines. The 12th
Century belfry rises above a rocky spur encrusted with catacombs, a hermitage, a chapel
and an underground church. The hilly streets provide balconous views of the chaotic tiled
roofs and the vineyards beyond. It’s an Egon Schiele cityscape.
It’s quiet. I mean, dead quiet. It’s not just that it’s
12:30 and you can hear a swish and spit in the central Place de Marche. The city is
an evacuated tourist haven. The shops are inviting, and at the same time they’re
ghostly daunting. We wander the streets looking for signs of life. There’s evidence
of civilization over in the hotel district. Perched on part of the limestone outcrop is a
luxurious five star. We peer through the gates and listen to the clinking of forks and
knives.
There’s an invitation for degustation on every corner. Step
into any cave and you can ogle a dusty bottle inscribed with 1859 or the like.
There are spittoons on the display tables beside crates of Chateaux St. Emilion.
I’m in the toilet at the St. Emilion tourist office. Upon washing
my hands, I discover a sign posted near the towels. The sign reads:
WARNING:
The toilets in this facility are powered by a vacuum suction flushing
mechanism.
They will accept only the paper provided. Any other material will
AUTOMATICALLY block the toilet and SOUND AN ALARM. Please dispose of other waste in the
bin provided.
I’m thinking to myself, if I am reading this sign while I am
washing my hands, that means I have already used the toilet and flushed. Had I dropped
some prohibited object down the vacuum suction mechanism toilet I would have by now
blocked the toilet and sounded the alarm. That would be very embarrassing.
