I had thought the labor I had performed on the first day and the fact that I didn’t sleep the night before would ensure a good nights sleep. Nah, I’m way too much of a medium sized dumb animal for that. Half way through dinner and on my second glass of wine I suddenly became filled with an energy I hadn’t felt for a long time. I don’t know if it’s relief or finally being able to do some physical work or the combination of both mixed in with the fact that my system has finally killed the last of the Red Coats. I can’t imagine being out in that field with the screamin’ mimi’s if you know what I mean.
But once again I watched television way to late and didn’t sleep and got up feeling a bit worse for the wear but all in all better than I had thought. I’d already worked my system out for the morning. Get up, flip on the espresso machine since it’s take a bit to prime, flip on the computer, and then off to the bathroom. I then come out hit the button for the coffee (I found this machine likes it rough as it will feign that it has no water and you have to smack it like you paid for it) and as that brews I check my computer to find once again I have no Internet. I haven’t approached the time where I’m annoyed by the lack of Internet but it’s coming. I grab my coffee, toss a few pieces of bread in the toaster, and make a bowl of cereal. Oh, and yeah, of course the TV is on so I can listen to things that mean nothing to me.
So I make the quick jaunt down the road to the field and I notice for the first time that way off into the distance are a series of snow-capped mountains. I probably noticed them for the first time since previously they hadn’t been set against a set of menacing clouds. It’s colder today and already raining. Once again I thank my lucky stars that I’m dressed appropriately and that I have a set of killer work gloves that although got soaked yesterday, still kept my hands warm. People are already amongst the vines clipping away so I join in. I don’t see Benôit and actually wouldn’t for the rest of the day. Apparently he has some other tasks to do. I’m introduced to several new people who always give me the same look when they find that I’m American. Then they always ask if I’m from California and then they really are surprised when I say no, Michigan via Texas. I understand the California thing since to most of the world that is where all of America’s wine comes from but the truth is, for me, that has all been played out. I actually think the vineyards in Texas, especially the Fredricksburg area are really doing fantastic and interesting wines. I ask you, take a Texas Becker Malbec and compare it against any one else and you’ll be surprised. (It won’t be until the third day someone finally says, “Cowboy, bang bang.” When I was in Paris before that was every other person’s retort when I’d say Texas.)
So after another wonderful lunch the ladies made sure I got a slicker to repel the rain. So far my jacket was doing a fine job but I trust them when they push one on me and thank God I did. Thirty minutes later the rain is driving hard and for some reason I just can’t help but smile. I know I should be bitching and regretting that I gave up a cush job to go and stand in a farm and get whipped by rain but all I could do was smile. The rain and the cold actually got so bad that they decided to call it a day. Of course me being so bundled up I wasn’t able to practice my ear as everything sounded like a muffled duck, “Quack quack, quack quack.” Later that night when I tell the night crew how I didn’t learn anything that day and did my impression of a French duck they all roared with laughter. Two days into work and I’m already figuring out my audience. Of course, to them, me being here is probably enough comedy.
The third day “avec mon sécateur” was grueling. My hands felt as if the bones were bruised and kept snapping and popping like a child’s cereal but I pressed on and refused to bitch but then again, who would understand if I did? After about an hour though my hands settled into a rhythm and went numb and all was well but the day went on forever as we, without me knowing of course, decided to work an extra hour to make up for the two lost the day before. The one girl kept referring to me a l'etranger (foreigner) and I thought it was funny since, for one, it's something I know, and two I'm reading the damn book by Camus as we speak. All I could think was, "Yeah, I am that foreigner." As the sun sets I start to panic a bit since I am due to attend a dinner with the parents at seven and I don’t want to be late. At least the day is full of sun and is only slightly cool so it was a good day to go long and when they announced we were stopping I literally dropped my vine and ran back to the apartment to shower. I can only imagine what they were thinking when they saw a clogged foreigner racing with his weapon out of the vineyard.
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