But so it was that my first solo trip to Paris serendipitously coincided with the annual Montmartre Grape Harvest Festival (or the Fête des Vendanges de Montmartre). Suitably intrigued, I read that every year, as part of the Festival, “wine and gastronomic brotherhoods will come from all over France and border countries to represent their exceptional products! They will be joined by many inhabitants of the 18th [arrondissement], gathered in brotherhoods for the occasion” (from advertising material).
With a history of 90 years, the festival was first created to support one of the last active vineyards in Paris. Although its quality is somewhat disputed, the wine from the annual harvest is sold at auction, and its proceeds go to the local Montmartre Association. So popular has it become that it is now the third most attended event in Paris, after Paris-Plage and Nuit Blanche.
So, by happy chance, I was fortunate to experience the Festival first-hand for a few glorious, blue-skied October days. Despite the inevitable throng of tourists, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the festival had a genuinely local feel, with small food and wine stalls coiled around the top of Butte Montmartre. In Place du Tertre, the throbbing heart of Montmartre, not far from the Sacré Cœur, the crowds were at their peak. Jovial tourists bustled to sit in the cafés to soak up the ambience or posed for portraits with the local artists. Nearby, a Bollywood film crew attempted to blend into the crowded streetscape.
As I wandered the back streets, I stumbled on a quite different, equally impressive, quieter side to Montmartre. With only a smattering of (lost) tourists, I could explore the cobblestone winding streets and admire the ivy-covered buildings. I retreated to a small café and later to the Musée Montmartre.
The Musée, a lovely, peaceful haven with a beautiful garden, was built in the 17th century and is the oldest building in Montmartre. Many artists used to live and meet here, including Auguste Renoir. The recreated atelier-apartment of Suzanne Valadon, Maurice Utrillo and Andre Utter, who also once lived and worked here, is a unique gem, set up, seemingly, as if the artists had just left.
Located on the side of the Butte Montmartre, the museum overlooks the vineyard. Standing below me, in an inner courtyard among the trees, I spied a group of people, with their colourful cloaks and gowns, having a convivial lunchtime feast with wine, long baguettes and much cheer. It was like stumbling upon a secret gathering (see below).
Down the hill path at the museum's rear is a lovely view of the vineyard and the more distant Paris cityscape. Although relatively small, the vineyard is obviously of immense symbolic importance to the area. You can also see the Lapin Agile (or the Nimble Rabbit), a famous Montmartre cabaret, a favourite spot for artists like Picasso. Another attraction in the museum's gardens is the famous swing, “La Balançoire”, that Renoir painted in 1876 (see below).
Near the end of the festival, in the less touristy part of the 18th arrondissement near my apartment, I came across the Grand Parade departing from the Mairie (the town hall of the 18th arrondissement). With people dressed in cloaks and hats of varying colours, it reminded me a little of Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code and the secretive Templar Knights. There was plenty of music, a long line of different brotherhoods with their unusual attire, colourful flags, and an eclectic mix of bagpipes, saxophones, traditional drummers, and dancers.
Then, as quickly as the parade arrived, it departed, followed by a bevy of street cleaners, erasing the day's festivities. However, thankfully for me, the experience was not as quickly erased from my memories! Nearly ten years later, I still happily recall that for a brief time at the Fête des Vendanges, I felt part of the small village of Montmartre!
If You Go:
For information about the Montmartre Grape Harvest Festival, see here:
https://fetedesvendangesdemontmartre.com
Over the four or five days of the Harvest Festival, I admired the views at the Sacré Cœur and dodged the men selling their tourist trinkets on laid-out rugs (which they quickly folded away as the police approached!); I sat in cafés and relaxed in parks. I also enjoyed the many different events of the festival, including its concerts, street entertainment, walks, visits, and exhibitions, and tasted some of the delicious artisanal and regional products.
One such event was a small music concert in the gardens of the Hôpital Bretonneau, a fully operational hospital near Montmartre. The front row seats were occupied by the patients in wheelchairs, just outside some grape vines in the hospital courtyard. The performers, who only looked a little younger than some of the elderly patients, wore bright red robes and strange-looking royal blue hats.
The singing was light and entertaining and very French, with the audience joining in the sing-along. Some of the slightly more mobile patients danced cautiously with the nurses. It was poignant and inspiring at the same time. The staff and family members hovered over the patients. Everyone seemed very intent on making sure the joy was shared around. It was special for its unusualness and for its decidedly local feel. As a solitary tourist, I felt like a type of voyeur, as the outsider looking in (see below).
Buoyed by the experience, on my way ‘home’ to my rented apartment at the base of the Butte Montmartre, I bought a long stick of bread (or baguette) and some cheese to have with my wine (and I saw a small dog in a lady’s handbag). I felt vaguely French and tried to savour the experience.
One such event was a small music concert in the gardens of the Hôpital Bretonneau, a fully operational hospital near Montmartre. The front row seats were occupied by the patients in wheelchairs, just outside some grape vines in the hospital courtyard. The performers, who only looked a little younger than some of the elderly patients, wore bright red robes and strange-looking royal blue hats.
The singing was light and entertaining and very French, with the audience joining in the sing-along. Some of the slightly more mobile patients danced cautiously with the nurses. It was poignant and inspiring at the same time. The staff and family members hovered over the patients. Everyone seemed very intent on making sure the joy was shared around. It was special for its unusualness and for its decidedly local feel. As a solitary tourist, I felt like a type of voyeur, as the outsider looking in (see below).
Buoyed by the experience, on my way ‘home’ to my rented apartment at the base of the Butte Montmartre, I bought a long stick of bread (or baguette) and some cheese to have with my wine (and I saw a small dog in a lady’s handbag). I felt vaguely French and tried to savour the experience.
Near the end of the festival, in the less touristy part of the 18th arrondissement near my apartment, I came across the Grand Parade departing from the Mairie (the town hall of the 18th arrondissement). With people dressed in cloaks and hats of varying colours, it reminded me a little of Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code and the secretive Templar Knights. There was plenty of music, a long line of different brotherhoods with their unusual attire, colourful flags, and an eclectic mix of bagpipes, saxophones, traditional drummers, and dancers.
Then, as quickly as the parade arrived, it departed, followed by a bevy of street cleaners, erasing the day's festivities. However, thankfully for me, the experience was not as quickly erased from my memories! Nearly ten years later, I still happily recall that for a brief time at the Fête des Vendanges, I felt part of the small village of Montmartre!
If You Go:
For information about the Montmartre Grape Harvest Festival, see here:
https://fetedesvendangesdemontmartre.com
