Photo: (Harvest festival in the village of Barr 2024)
August 2024, Location: Brisbane Airport. Destination: Paris.
I remember arriving at Brisbane International Terminal four hours early that morning. The check-in gates weren’t even open so I perched myself on a bench outside the departing gate for a while and recall being riddled with excitement, uncertainty, and a thirst for adventure! I was scribbling basic French words and phrases hastily in a notebook and muttering them under my breath. Occasionally I’d glance around to make sure nobody could hear my below-average attempts or see the Duolingo app open on my phone!
26 hours later, location: Paris. Destination: Alsace.
It quickly became apparent that all my self-driven French lessons had been for naught. I barely understood a word that passed in the bustling Charles de Gaulle Airport. Luckily for me, that family I stayed with had very good English and were patient with me!
Noelle and her family live in a picturesque town called Barr, amongst the historic vineyards of Alsace. It is a place that feels like it was written in a fairytale. Nestled in the vibrantly green slopes of the Vosges mountains, the little township lies just 30 minutes from the city of Strasbourg. The streets are cobbled and lined with old iron-wrought lamps, from which hang baskets of brightly coloured flowers. The gingerbread-house buildings are old fashioned and quaint, their windows shuttered and roofs tiled. If you walk the streets just after dawn the hearty smell of freshly baked bread and pastries will make you ravenous. Everyone you pass smiles and bids you “Bonjour!”. Even from the vineyards that line these mountain ranges the town church bells can be heard hourly. Much time was spent in the vast forests fossicking for mushrooms, or on the farm picking apples, pears, walnuts, figs, tomatoes, and of course, grapes. To me, it was both homely and wildly unfamiliar.
Noelle and the family invited me into their world like a daughter. Our days were spent at Domain Bachert, bumbling along on the tractor harvesting grapes, or down in the cellar tending to feverish ferments. Lunchtime in the Grand Cru vineyards meant a generous picnic of baguette, smelly cheese, cured meats, wine, and a flask of brewed coffee. We ate this sitting in the grass using our picking buckets as tables.
The property itself was beautiful, old but lovingly maintained. From my bedroom window I could see all the way to Germany. I often woke early so I could run up the hill and watch the sunrise gently spread across the sleeping valley. Maybe it was the French mountain air, the oven-warm blueberry croissants, the friendly manner of the Alsatian people, or the tranquility of a village that seemed stuck in time, but I felt a tremendous sense of peace and pure bliss for the duration of my stay. I hardly considered what we did work, it was a privilege.
Evenings with the Bachert family would find us enjoying a home cooked meal, or socializing at dinner parties, or playing cards in the winery while we waited for the press to finish. But no matter the setting, you could bet there would be large platters of cheese, a delightful glass of wine (or two), and beaming faces. When the time came for me to get back on the train for Paris, I quietly shed a tear for all the joy this visit had brought me. Back home, my friends asked a number of times if I visited any other countries while I was in Europe. I think they thought it was a shame to travel all that way and mostly remain in the same region. And though I know there’s an abundance of lovely places to discover, I truly wouldn’t want to have spent my time any other way.
