It's probably because we have not been able to freely roam in a long, long time. Being safe and mindful is the only way to be right now. We need to get a handle on this contagion, so we will follow the rules to do so. Not being able to just jump on a plane and fly to Europe is a weird sensation. Not that I've ever really done that... you know, like the romantic movies... buy a ticket, pack a coat, Ray-Bans, toiletries and spin the globe. Hey! Let's spend the week in Spain! Jump off the plane, look around, hail a cab, meet a guide that shows you around Barcelona for the day. He just so happens to be driving a taxi in the big city, to make some extra money to support his family's vineyard, that for generations has made the most luscious Tempranillo, but has fallen on tough times because of a recent drought. He will do all that it takes to save the heirloom vines that his great-great grandfather planted, nurtured and harvested for the good of the village. His wine brought the community together, when things were falling apart. I learn all of this while he is driving me to my hotel, before I venture on the next day to the La Rioja region, which so happens to be the place where his family lives. After a refreshing night of sleep and a quick tour of Gaudi's art installments, I meet Francisco, who found someone to cover his shift, to accompany me on my visit to La Rioja. We travel by rail for 4 hours and he tells me of the simple life, growing up in the middle of a vineyard, while I tell him of a contrasting life of living in suburbs of the US with it's greatness and fails. He is particularly interested in the wild spirits of Texas ... and I am invested in his stories of the dominant flavors of the Tempranillo varietal. We laugh, we cry, we drink fabulous wine on our journey. When we arrive, we are greeted by his extended family... swished off to a brilliant stone home, seated at a long table with white linen, faded silver, hand thrown pottery, cheese, cured meats, olives and yes, spectacular wine, from one of the 9 red noble grapes. It just so happens that one of Francisco's brothers plays Spanish guitar, so he just so happens to have it with him and the family just so happens to sing and cry and dance between our late lunch courses, that the grandmothers make and serve but don't speak any English. It's a glorious celebration of all the senses. I even try an olive, which is weird because I hate olives but everything seems just so perfect, that I thought maybe they taste differently here in the wine region of Northern Spain. Nope, still olive-y. The 70 degree day, my perfect choice of the one outfit I packed at the last minute, my ultra cool sunglasses, the light reflecting off of the colors of the changing vines... everything is in its heightened state. It leaves me feeling tingly and dreamy.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorTMW Archives
July 2023
Categories |