FIN

            I finished up my final salon des vins in the ancient city of Chartres, just south of Paris and home to supposedly the largest cathedral in all of France, although the one in Metz appears larger to me. The city was utterly enjoyable unlike Metz where I pictured people hanging themselves behind drawn shades. No, Chartres was a place I felt I could hang my hat for a spell or two. The salon though was less than stellar as the weather (we were outside) was often cold, usually rainy, and always windswept. Needless to say the promenade of spectators looked upon us much like many do at the zoo, with curious questioning eyes that asked, “what are you people thinking?” I spent most of my time poking fun at the locals and Apolline and dancing and juggling and in general being an ass. I literally drank more wine than I sold and when I was bored, which was often, I strolled around centre ville. Every four steps was a real estate sales or rental place so I made a hobby of inspecting all of the listings to keep my mind occupied.

            We stayed at Paolo’s parents (Friend of the Family) home in Dreux, just south of Chartres, who fed us excessively and when we said we were finished they would pry open our mouths and toss more in for good measure. They were painfully sweet people and after the second night of two to three hour dinners I realized that I finally could comprehend French. Not all of it mind you but finally enough now that I could piece the information together without my mind twisting it into meaningless chatter. This of course I figured to be just a moment of clarity that would surely disappear once I returned to Alsace. As it turned out this was not true as I had dinner with Apolline’s family on Monday and sure enough, I understood. Now of course I am leaving France and am sure that unless I am very strict with myself I will forget it all.

            So I have mentioned the end and at the end is where I am. I am moving to Budapest for a stint and am not sure if I’ll blog on it or not since I am keen on doing a travel book on the city and it’s surroundings. So most likely this will be my final blessing to the blog and I bid it all goodbye with a sense of sadness. I have had my ups and downs with this whole adventure and sometimes I was ready to head fast into the crazy lane but it was all good, every last experience was just that, an experience.

An old love recently asked me if I had found what I was looking for and for that I have no answer.  Some of us search to find and the rest I feel search because searching is all we know. At least now I feel I can search without abandon.  

Maybe I have found what I was looking for.

MY FATHER IS WAYNE GROVER

            Sorry for the lack of posts and whatnots and usual witticisms but the only thing slower around here than me is the vineyard. Finally all of the intense things have been taken care of just as the weather has slipped into perfection. Ah, how I will miss standing out in the driving cold rain and being slapped mercilessly by the twig vipers. I am down to my final two weeks here and am still contemplating whether or not to come back for the vendange (harvest) in the fall before/after I go to Ireland with my sister. My usual phrase of “time will only tell” is what I’ll have to fall back on in regards to my future. I have one last salon des vins in Chartres and then that is that, smack my hands finished.

            I had hoped to stay in Europe for the whole year and in my research never came across an item called the Schengan Visa. That was until my buddy, Taylor, was told about it as he entered his new Nordic landscape. Apparently if I stay longer in any of these countries that have no “borders” for more than ninety days out of one hundred and eighty I can be fined, arrested, and summarily slapped by a man in a funny cap and then banned for five years. Luckily England is not part of all of that so I will scurry on back there just before the deadline. But the killer was I was just starting to line up house sits, where I care for someone’s home as they play far away and I toss a ball for their dog without the worry for me of rent or for them boarding fees. Since I will have to leave the countries with this agreement it pretty much kills me being in Europe for the rest of the year…or does it.

            So I woke up early on Saturday before last after a hard night of all things the night can bring and I decided, Budapest. So I pulled up Buda on the web and lo and behold they are not part of the agreement. So without thought I put an ad on Craigslist for a room/share/apartment/abandoned car and within a day I had several responders ultimately deciding to go with a grad student right in centre ville. So, once again, time will only tell in regards to my future.

            Enough of the future, let's talk about the past. On the very last day of intense “we have to get this all done” type of work I finally figured out the last mystery for me at the vineyard. What in the hell does Benoit’s cousin mean when he says, in English, but in heavily accented Alsacien, “my father is Wayne Grover.” I always thought maybe it was from a TV show or personality or maybe an inside joke. Finally though I put it all together and it wasn’t Wayne Grover at all, it was Wine Grower. He was saying his father was a wine grower. Yes, yes he is, but I knew that from day one. Thank you for confusing me.