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Day One, Part One - The Apartment (Wednesday the 16th)
All is (sort of) well. The original apartment I tried to rent was a dog. It was terrible. It was dark and dingy, 'dodgy' my Scottish boss would say. So 'dodgy' that he entered, spun curiously, unzipped and pissed in the corner toilet. We were out of there in a hurry. But I knew in my gut that although the apartment was close (walking distance close, to downtown Santa Rosa where there is a plaza (like a piazza) with a City Hall structure, coffee shops and restaurants, bars and bookstores and artisan street vendors) it was not up to the standards of any man or woman who wishes a place to call home - it smelt like piss. So, by recommendation, we visited a few new flats in a community called the 'Villages.' A cluster of apartments in two-story homes that has a swimming pool, a hot tub, a workout room, volleyball and tennis and clean scenery all about, but the whole environment vibrates with a ghastly "Lady in the Water" underbelly. I am waiting for the earth to open and suck us inhabitants underground screaming as our lungs fill with liquid concrete. However, we will risk it. The place needs to be outfitted with some simple things like a bed, a couch, a table and kitchen gear. By Friday I am sure that I will find myself sleeping there in Spartan existence. As for now, I am crashing with a friend in Healdsburg - a winemaker himself, who has a wide, one-floor, three-bedroom home across from a vineyard named 'Foppiano.' He has lived in this house for over a year and he is not a wine snob, but his faced got all retarded like a child eating broccoli for the first time when I asked him if he ever visited their tasting room. I like this guy, he is generous to a fault; but not one to give a good word or two when the wine is not worthy. Or even the food. He called me one night when I had just placed an order at a brew-pub in Healdsburg. I mentioned the name, Bear Republic, and you can hear his face contort with his sympathetic response to me sharing my whereabouts, "I'm sorry," he said as if I had lost a new pup to a tractor accident. More Day 1 details. The other crew - my work crew. The guy(s) I am/will be working with are great. The winemaker at DuMOL is Scottish, as mentioned above, and the other harvest intern is from South Africa, and we will be sharing the apartment at the Villages. His girlfriend is here as well and she will be working at our sister winery (Larkmead) in Napa - our boss also makes the wine there. As for the African, this is the fourth year he has worked a harvest, two in South Africa and one in New Zealand. And he has four years of enology schooling at University under his floppy, vineyard cap. At just 25 years of age, he has a wonderful resume to date. It is going to be an amazing couple of months playing catch up, while running up a steep learning curve. Sicily put me in a good spot; somewhere on the starting line of a sack race at a company picnic. The language in Italy was a barrier at first, but philosophy and culture of winemaking and drinking has changed me. Maybe the winemaking is not as diligent, but definitely deserving. And the drinking is less serious, wine is part of one's constitution, like blood and water, without it flushing itself through pumps and valves under flesh and bone one would be limp and curious as a puppet who failed the casting call of the marionette show. Work starts on Monday. Until then we have a few days to chill out and enjoy the sights and sounds of full wine glasses clinking and golden grape juice sloshing around in our bellies. So, I will drink to that with satisfaction and sponge like awareness of all the words and phrases and education (and wine) offered to me. For example. Tonight at my boss' house for dinner, we drank a wonderful Chardonnay from California - HdV was its name. It was 'Burgundian' like in the classic, subtle style of French Chardonnay - fresh acidity with citrus and peach flavors, a mid-palate of minerals and a refined finish that lingered lightly. We followed the Chardoonay with a 10-year-old New Zealand Pinot Noir. Some say, Pinot Noir from the New World is not very age-worthy, but this bottle, the wine was the color of a glass of soda that has gone flat when the bubbles inside had dissolved into themselves and left a hollow hole in a syrupy liquid. And just such that, the wine had wonderful hints of toffee, caramel and cola. I can sleep well tonight, because in two days I will be sleeping on the floor without the comforts of all necessary home furnishings. So, Until next time, hopefully come this weekend, I will have the ways and means to have Comcast visit and contract us with some internet. Until then, I will have to steal some time on the fine, WiFi lines swirling around Sonoma. And for you, generoud reader, write when you can and I will do in turn. And drink wine when you can and I will doubly do so....
Post - September'06 Back to home...
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