Reims

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I have a Lonely Planet for Western Europe, and in the France section 70% is dedicated to Southern France. Of the 30% dedicated to Northern France, 25% is on Paris. Of the very few destinations considered worth writing about in Northern France, there is Champagne.

Cassandra: I don't believe I've ever had French champagne before...

Benjamin Kane: Oh, actually all champagne is French, it's named after the region. Otherwise it's sparkling white wine. Americans of course don't recognize the convention so it becomes that thing of calling all of their sparkling white champagne, even though by definition they're not.

Wayne Campbell: Ah yes, it's a lot like "Star Trek: The Next Generation". In many ways it's superior but will never be as recognized as the original. (Wayne’s World)

There is no train connection from Brussels to Champagne, luckily Mihalis is a trooper and willing to drive the 3 hours or so each way. We arrive and briefly wander around the Notre Dame church and old city centre, and discover a medieval festival going on, complete with sword fights.

We head straight for the Pomery Champagne House, an estate that I picked because of the unique cellar. Pommery bought this plot of land for what lay underneath, an old Chalk quarry dating back to the roman times. Deep inside these mines he laid down his wine to ferment and become Champagne. The doors to the quarry are in a large central hall, when the guide opens the heavy wooden doors cold air from the mine blows out to us. We walk down the long staircase into the mine, which is liberally decorated with abstract modern art, including a mass of tinfoil pilgrims, and one room with a huge domed structure built of wicker chairs. Above us there is an old chain system, maybe a hundred years old, that used to ferry wicker baskets along to carry the bottles, it has long since broken down. We exit the cellar to sample some of the champagne, and though I chose 3 varieties to try I find the difference among them to be far too subtle for me too detect. As we drive towards Brussels we pass the golden fields of Alsace during a rainstorm and watch a perfect rainbow emerge.