Reims, France

With my friend RC, we meant to work one January winter weekend. The plan was to disappear into focused time, shared documents, long conversations that move something forward. However, we took that as an excuse to hop on a train and do our best work elsewhere; we booked tickets to the Champagne region. It felt close enough not to derail the intention, far enough to make the hours feel different.

The train to Reims from Paris Gare de l’Est takes 45 minutes. We booked late and ended up in first class, two seats to ourselves.

People come to this part of the country for Champagne and history, but what stays with you is how walkable it is, how easily the day stretches when there’s nothing urgent to see.

Place Drouet-d’Erlon by the Subé fountain

It was drizzling when we arrived. Dark, cold, with few people out. The walk to the apartment took about fifteen minutes. The place we decided to rent for three days was near the highway. The traffic noise didn’t bother us. Growing up in the Philippines teaches you which sounds to ignore.

Getting the keys felt like solving a small puzzle. Codes, boxes, keys, instructions, climbing up and down. Once inside, we dropped our bags, looked around, and went back out almost immediately.

Dinner was at Raku Ramen, seven minutes away. Not quite “local”, we know, but comforting and familiar, nonetheless. Warm, affordable, easy. We were the only Asian diners that night, aside from the staff. When we paid, they gave us Japanese anime stickers and asked us to choose, oh and did we choose. I got three, but I think the offer was only valid for one sticker, although nobody said anything, so arigato!

The Carrefour nearby had already closed, so we stopped at the all-night shop below the apartment for snacks. Back upstairs, we talked until talking turned into silence.

We woke up with a full day and no plan. Winter had closed many of the usual sites (including wine cellars or even historical sites), so we walked aimlessly instead, appreciative of what beauty we came across. Shops, streets, façades. Eventually, we reached Place Drouet-d’Erlon, the city’s large pedestrian square, surrounded by a wide selection of cafés, bars, restaurants, and shops.

Lunch was booked at Au Cul de Poule, a 20-minute walk that led us past Reims Cathedral. This is where twenty-five French kings were crowned. Just from the outside, it feels of how much history has passed.

Lunch was good. Tataki de boeuf d’aubrac to start and to share. Both of us got the Faux filet de boeuf; de Champagne Ardenne for me, and another mushroom sauce worth remembering for RC. Dessert was divided simply: tarte au chocolat and riz au lait - classic French treats.

We drank Champagne because we were in Champagne. That was reason enough.

After lunch, we walked back towards the apartment (honestly, besides the train from and back to Paris, we mostly roamed Reims by foot), passing by the cathedral, but this time seeing it from the back and going inside. Light filtered through stained glass. The church organ hovered above, massive and quiet.

It was here in Reims that Charles VII was crowned, led by Joan of Arc, who made it possible. Reims remembers her for that. Elsewhere, she is remembered differently: in Rouen, where she died; in Orléans, which she helped free. She was born in Domrémy, far from any cathedral.

As I would in any other church I’d visit (especially for the first time), I lit a candle and whispered a silent wish.

Regroupng in front of the Reims Cathedral

With the cellars closed for winter, we bought Champagne (duh) from a wine shop instead, following a local recommendation. Next door, I bought postcards.

At the Office de Tourisme, nothing called to me. Later, at Carrefour near the apartment, I found better souvenirs: local Reims biscuits, Clovis mustard from Reims (apparently they make it here too! Not just Dijon), and vinaigrette from the same brand. I like to gift sensory experiences (of taste, of smell). Put simply, something consumable, ephemeral. To me, it’s like I’m extending my own experience to the receiver, even if they weren’t there. At least, that’s my hope. So, no keychains, no magnets, no snowglobe coming from me.

Other gifts I would’ve gotten were pâté croûte and jambon de Reims, but I only had a backpack and duffle bag, and honestly, to whom else will I be gifting those? So I settled for the bottle of Champagne, the biscuits, and the Clovis merchandise.

Dinner was from what RC thoughtfully brought over. For that night, something familiar to match a familiar all-nighter experience: pancit canton, muffin buns standing in for pandesal, rice, boiled eggs, and a bottle of Coca-Cola (zero, because we’re trying to be healthy). We watched White Hot: The Rise and Fall of Abercrombie while eating. Tambay nights in every sense.

We tried to work through the night on our side project. We got some things done. Some things were left for later.

By midnight, I gave up. Two espressos didn’t help. I’ve never been good at staying awake after university, not during my master’s, not now. We kept talking anyway, until sleep won.

We had to check out by noon on our third day, but our train was later that afternoon. We chilled and killed time at Marmatte, a brunch place (all you can eat brunch buffet on Sundays) near the center and the station. No rush. We were even able to squeeze in a Sephora stop. Oh and it’s solde season (sale season) in France, I realize!

On the train back, RC showed me part of a Canal+ documentary, Arnaquer à Paris. I didn’t finish it. The ride was only 45 minutes.

That was the weekend.

Reims didn’t change anything. It didn’t need to. It just gave us a place to walk, to eat well, to talk without watching the clock. It was a good excuse, a quick escape to be with a friend and spend some quality time.