It is August and everyone is on holiday…somewhere else. Every village seems deserted. Conde sur Marne is no exception. The boulangerie is shut; the bar barricaded; the charcuterie a building site without builders. We wandered the empty streets to the soundtrack of barking dogs and a tolling church bell. Perhaps the bell pull was attached to a dog’s wagging tail because we never saw anyone near the church.
Cycled along the towpath to the next village – Tours sur Marne. The towpath is sandwiched between the stillness of the silvery green canal and swirling deep waters of the River Marne. The village was beautiful and resonating to the sound of dogs and very little else.
In the afternoon we traded football time for champagne cellar visits. Both parties seemed happy with the results. The boys ran rings around us, defeated us and gloated lots. We did not care.
Drove to Epernay which is a large town and actually had people in it and visited the cellars of Achille Prince. For 8 euros we could walk, without a guide, in the 18th century chalk cellars and view the sleeping treasure.
The tunnels and niches had been carved by hand. Carvings in the chalk revealed names from long ago. We returned to the surface and, as part of the price, enjoyed two glasses of champagne each. Epernay took on a rosy glow.
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