A Lesson In Grapes: A Vineyard in French Catalonia by Mary Novakovich
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Jérôme Coussanes holds up several bunches of grapes. “That’s Muscat,” he says, pointing to a pale green bunch, “and that’s Grenache.” There aren’t many ten year old boys who can spot the difference between grape varieties, let alone care about such things.
You won’t find wine-making on the National Curriculum in the UK, but in the Roussillon village of Banyuls-sur-Mer in French Catalonia, a special class of school children get real hands-on experience in one of the region’s most important industries.
Small Vineyard
For the past eight years, the ten and eleven year-old children at Maillol school in Banyuls have been given their own small vineyard to tend to throughout the year, culminating in the Fête des Vendanges. During school hours, the children learn the theory of viticulture and, once a month, they get time off to look after the vines and eventually harvest the grapes.
They’re not alone, of course; the village old hands, the grandfatherly papis vignerons, are there to pass on their considerable knowledge of wine-making and to encourage and even inspire the next generation. Presumably, they also keep an eye on the kids, to make certain they’re not running wild with grape cutters.
It’s not easy work, especially as the vineyards of Banyuls are on steep hillside terraces that tumble down towards the Mediterranean. But then this is a hardy group of children indeed; in spite of the famously rich French diet, there is hardly an overweight one among them. Surely they must find the work a bit on the back-breaking side, though, what with crates of grapes weighing up to 70kg. “No, not really,” says Jérôme. All of his friends chime in unison, “It’s better than being in school!”
The children were supposed to give a demonstration of the harvest in their vineyard, but torrential storms put paid to many of the festivities planned for the weekend. Planes were diverted from nearby Perpignan airport, and huge waves crashed into the seafront and even made their way into the waterside cafés. It was hard to believe that, just a few days before, people were swimming in the same sea that later claimed the lives of two sailors.
Vivid Colours
The outdoor public dance was cancelled too, which meant we had to make do with an indoor barbecue in the village hall. Luckily the spit roast was under cover, so a steady supply of lamb and sausages kept coming. In spite of the grey skies outdoors, the hall was filled with vivid colour: red and yellow balloons in the traditional Catalan style, and, bizarrely, a riot of pink supplied by the brass band playing both traditional French and Catalan music. It wasn’t long before everyone – adults and children – was waltzing away merrily.
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the children, however. This was their year to be petits vignerons and the centre of attention at the festival. The next batch of ten year-olds will take over soon, and the focus will be on them instead. Weren’t they at all disappointed? Pierre, Alice and Vincent shrug. “Yeah well, it’s a shame,” they say philosophically, but their attention wavers when they spot another round of food coming. So, no tantrums there then.
Inevitably the weather in this normally dry region was the main concern over the weekend. Sunday was the day for the big beach party and it would have been quite terrible for that to get washed out too. By a minor miracle, however, the sky stayed dry and even allowed the sun to peep out. Just as well, because such a glorious way of celebrating the wine harvest should not be missed. It’s an event that brings in not just the locals, but also people from Perpignan and the neighbouring villages of Collioure, Port-Vendres, Cerbère and others that hug this dramatic stretch of the Mediterranean coast before it reaches Spain.
Smiles of Delight
By midday, most of the beach was covered in long trestle tables decked out in yellow and red and the spit roasts were already smoking. People set out their stalls offering plates of mussels and chips and a glass of wine. While the food for sale was mainly for the benefit of tourists (vastly outnumbered by the locals) and those who didn’t get themselves organised in time, most of the beach was filled with huge extended family groups, all enjoying their picnics while musicians took turns serenading the revellers with traditional songs. The big smiles of delight on everyone’s faces were irrefutable evidence of the party’s warm and convivial atmosphere.
Many of those smiles would have been helped by the free wine, of course. Just behind the seafront, local wine-growers set up tables in the streets to give the public a chance to taste their new wine; all you had to do was buy a wine glass and keep getting it refilled. You couldn’t lose your glass either because it came with a handy band and string so you could sling it round your neck. How very thoughtful, particularly when you’re trying to make your way through the throngs of people crowding the colourful streets.
It’s far too early to tell if this year’s batch of junior wine-growers will be one of those handing out their wine during future festivals. Out of the dozen or so I spoke to, only one had her mind made up. Eleven-year-old Paule Bosch thinks she has “found her calling.” For a calling it is. The adult wine-growers agree that it’s a vocation that demands passion and a willingness to work extremely hard. But as one of the papis vignerons, Georges Sédabeille, told me “wine-making is the heart of the region.”
He beams with pride as he surveys his group of petits vignerons whom he has spent the past year nurturing. “The children need to learn about traditional ways of life,” he says. “No one here wants those methods to disappear, and this is a way of showing children how important viticulture is here.” Even if people leave the area to work in a different field,” adds Georges, “they never forget their heritage and many come back to discover that wine-making is for them after all.”
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