Emily’s Birthday: Wine-ing and a Whole Lot of Bull

So, it’s my second birthday spent in Europe (the last one being my 30^th in Spain a few years ago). We have decided that any overseas birthdays don’t count, so technically I’m 31 still. I got to plan the itinerary for the day (aka, the Rick Steves “Villages of the Cotes-du-Rhone” driving tour, pg. 507-519). Today was all about seeing the cutest Provencal villages, tasting some delicious wines, and soaking in the atmosphere. We wound our way up the Dentelles de Montmirail, a gorgeous mountain range decorated along the way with olive groves and almond orchards. We visited so many adorable hilltop villages, built for security from barbarians and other evil marauders, now hotbeds of pottery-making and artisanal ice cream shops. It was quaint to the extreme. Every other building was a ‘cave au vins,’ so we did our fair share of pre- and post-lunch wine tastings. Watching Mark ask each vintner about the type of “raisins” they used in the wines was a highlight for me. We had unbelievably patient and friendly pourers, who took the time to answer our questions. We ended up with 3 bottles of wine in the car at the end of the day: 2 Cotes-du-Rhone and 1 dry Muscat. With each bottle we add to our collection, someone at Delta Airlines is hearing a “ka-ching!” sound coming from our suitcases. But at 4-9Euros a bottle, how could we pass it up?

For lunch, we had a plate of local specialties in Suzette, including a dynamite olive tapenade made right in the town. We have been so lucky to sample the local cuisine in all of our stops, and have become pretty adventurous when it comes to tasting things that are unrecognizable to both of us. We ended our scenic loop in Gigondas, a town that seems to be completely dependent on the wine industry, and has a large cooperative that serves samples from literally hundreds of local vintners. Feeling overwhelmed and overheated, we headed back through Avignon to our b&b, after a lengthy battle with our TomTom, who insisted on trying to take us down some roads that did not yet exist. We decided to dine in St. Remy again because I was craving pizza (I know, I know, but it’s my birthday). When we arrived in the downtown, we noticed many of the main streets were blocked off and there were gigantic gates lining the main road. Tons of people were milling around, and there was obviously some big event about to take place. Based on our incredible powers of deduction (aka, reading posted signs), we learned that tonight was going to be a running of vachettes (small bulls) down the streets in anticipation of the next day’s ‘corridas,’ a version of bullfighting. The excitement was palpable, and there was a nutty marching band playing up and down the streets getting the crowds all riled up (see our videos on Picasa to get a taste of the atmosphere).

After waiting for about a half an hour without anything happening, we ate at a nearby Italian bistro. When we finished dinner at about 10:30, the crowds had swelled considerably, and a large truck was pulling into the middle of the street, right in front of us. Cowboys in full gear were riding horses up and down the road, obviously getting ready to do some rodeo-ing. Someone in charge of this whole shenanigans shot a starter pistol and we dove behind the barricades, pushing several small children out of the way in the process. Hey, I’m not going to be gored by a bull on my birthday. After about 20 minutes of anticipation, the running began. First, the cowboys herded a bunch of vachettes down the street into the truck. Exciting, but not really too dangerous. We crossed the street to a more unprotected area without barricades, just bales of hay to stand on (thanks, honey) and that’s when all hell broke loose. The vachettes were let out of the truck one at a time, and local idiots hopped up on testosterone chased them down the street in an effort to either tackle them or ride on them. The cowboys essentially were just for show now, as the inmates took over the asylum. The second bull almost broke free of the mob chasing it, and again, I dove for cover, this time pushing old ladies out of the way. Where was Mark, you ask? Why, near the edge of the street, filming this whole thing! After watching four vachettes get harassed, I’d had enough adrenaline rushes to last till my next birthday, and we hustled to the car before they released the next bull. Make sure you watch the videos so you can get a full understanding of how crazy this really was, because my words don’t do it justice!