Who doesn’t hate the first day of going to work? Outside of my opening day at Hyatt I was totally dreading the start of anything. I guess in reality I just never want to be where I am and a job means I have a destination. With Hyatt I think I was excited because it was a huge turning point in my life where I was going into a salaried position in something I knew I could do blindfolded which would allow me to live the life I needed to live at that time. Serendipitous to say the least.
I was so excited that I just couldn’t sleep. I was feeling great physically and my mind was racing with words I barely understood and every fifteen seconds I was flipping on the light to look up the meaning of a word. Not to mention over the weekend I became obsessed with French television and watched it way too late. Either way I fell asleep sometime around four and had to get up at seven.
When mom took me to the supermarket I also bought the only alarm clock they had which was a small plastic replica of something that could be from the Beauty and the Beast. Little did I know that its alarm would literally lift me from the sheets. That thing went off like Krakatoa. Holy hot lips hoolihan! The next night I wrapped it up in a shirt in hopes to calm it’s initial thrust but that did little if anything at all. At least it did keep me from hearing it tick, which could make someone dig a well and keep young ladies down there long enough to, well, you get the idea. “It rubs the lotion in or else it gets the hose again.”
So I make my way down the hill after accidentally waking the devil dog. Wait, have I mentioned the giant Schnauzer they call, Prince? The way they pronounce it sounds much more like “ponce” but that’s neither her nor there. This dog could give you nightmares. I love dogs and dogs love me. It’s just one of those facts in life but this dog proves why scientists always say theory and rarely fact. I believe this dog wants to kill me. Any hoo, I make it down the hill and as I do I can only thank my lucky stars that I went ahead and spent the money on a new Patagonia jacket and base layer. It’s in the high thirties with spitting rain and a bit of wind to boot. I wore it all since I’m pretty sure they’ll start me at the bottom as they should and the bottom in the vineyard is tending the vines.
(I would later learn that collectively there is no bottom as it seems everyone and I mean everyone will drop everything and help a particular area to maintain the system. Over the three days I was amongst the vines, I prefer to call the vines twig vipers because they like to bite and strike randomly as you trim them. So if you are reading this and are at the vineyard please don’t think I mean you are at the bottom since in reality there is only one job at the vineyard and that is the vineyard, everything else is just a mere extension.)
After a few missteps I finally find Benôit and his father, Antoine. Antoine finds me a pair of boots and shows me an interesting thing to do with newspapers. Apparently due to the conditions sole inserts, you know like gel inserts, just won’t last out there in the mud and the muck and they are expensive so he showed me how to take a section of newspaper, roll it just so and slide it on into the boot. I was suspect at first until my feet found their place and it was like learning a magic trick. I’m sure he found it odd that I found it so awesome but what can I do.
I carry my boots with me as if they are nuclear secrets as Benôit gives me a tour and this is when I find out just why this place is so special. Every vineyard, except one, in the region of Alsace has gone to stainless steel barrels for fermentation but not this vineyard. I stood in what we would simply call the cellar and they call the cave amongst giant, and I mean giant wooden barrels. Lucky for me Benôit studied in Sonoma for four months and knows enough English to get me started but because of Adélaide he mostly speaks in French. Apparently she told him and everyone that I need to learn and the only way is total immersion. Yeah, me! Adêlaide told me to make friends with him and his sister, Apolline, since they knew English and would be a big help. I meet Apolline and realize that she probably knows less English than I do French and can only shake my head at just how tough this will all be.
Today we take samples from several barrels to take to the lab and I have to admit I love the power of wood. When he takes a sample he pulls a simple wooden spike, maybe a third of an inch thick, out to release a controlled flow into the cylinders and with a quick push and twist the swelled wood forms a tight seal et voila, we have our sample. We jump in the company beater and drive up further around the mountain. At this point I’m a little more than curious why were aren’t headed down the hill and to the highway since the road we are on is a glorified two track that can’t possibly lead to a lab. We round a tight curve to reveal just how high up we are as a little town suddenly pops out of nowhere tucked at the base of the converging mountains. I can't help but think how I can't wait to take a bike down this bad boy. I bet I can get it to 50mph easy. The two track eventually turns into a paved road and we head on into town and drop the samples off at the lab. Benôit explains to the technician that I am here studying wine and she allows me back in the lab to check it out. Yep, it’s a lab alright.
From there we head over to the local feed and weed but for the local vintners where Benôit buys me a sécateur to perform my next duties. A sécateur is essentially a heavy hitting set of scissors or if you happen to be the local mobster… an answer getter. I have fun saying over and over again as I make clipping motions with my new toy, “avec mon sécateur!” with the most impossible French accent. We head back up the mountain, pick up my boots, and head out into the field. Now I’m thinking there is going to be a training period to make sure I don’t do the wrong thing and to maybe show me a few tricks of the trade. Nope, they give me a row (rangée) and Benôit simply says, “Do not cut these. Cut these and put in straight line.” Then he walks off and starts on his own row. I slip on my gloves, pull my hat on, and get to it.
After about an hour I started to worry that my hands won’t hold up with the constant clipping and tugging since I have so much damage to my hands from all my years trying to kill myself riding bikes on half pipes, especially the right one. Luckily for me I am pretty good with both my hands and begin to switch off after every few vines. The pain in my hands reach a point that I realize it’s not going to get any worse and I simply go numb to the whole thing. Before I knew it everyone instantly stops and begins to walk back towards the restaurant. Thirty seconds later a bell begins to ring calling everyone in for lunch. I love that there is a bell, so simple, no need for a watch or a field boss to tell you when you can eat. Just work and listen and when you hear that bell become that proverbial cow and head on home.
I head in with Benôit unsure of what to do or where to go and we head into where I had eaten with Josette the previous Friday. The table is set with a bowl and a crock of soup rests on each table along with bread. I dish out a serving of the best vegetable soup I’ve ever had and then they bring in the main course of chicken and mashed potatoes and I watch as everyone loads their soup bowl with the new course. My god it’s so simple it’s genius. Why dirty a whole other plate and such when you can just use the same damn bowl. I follow suit and it is simple, hearty, and full of flavor. I finish that along with a glass of wine and then the cheese comes and more bread, and then the espresso. Have to have the espresso I realize. After all this we head back out into the field feeling fine and full and I am ready avec mon sécateur.
I started the day with Benôit and I finish it sitting in the restaurant eating beouf and bread and the best potatoes and drinking wine all the while strangers try to entertain me and help me learn their language. I find myself with that smile that is nearly uncontrollable. I am literally and utterly happy in this little world. I still have no Internet or phone and the only TV I get it is in pure Français and I could give a care less about any of the previous. I love my apartment and the view and the hidden town behind the vineyard down the mountain and this is all coming from a guy who up to three weeks ago was looking at his Iphone every two minutes and surfing the web. I know that I will need all the above especially the Internet soon so I can do what I want to do and plan what I need to plan but for now…I’m happy.
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