Having a Labored Labor Day

Nothing gives you a reality check more than there being a holiday happening in the USA that is not recognized here in Spain. It's a 'whoa, I'm not in Kansas anymore' kind of feeling. While friends and family in the USA will wake up and prep meat for a BBQ, make salads for picnics, and put beer on ice, I will be starting the week as just any other normal day; only more annoyed than usual.

I could wax poetic about how lovely it is here in Spain, but you all got a load of that in the last post so lets talk shit this week. Let's start with the fact that I went to bed seeing that that moron is wanting to rename New Mexico. Surely it doesn't matter where you fall on the political spectrum, can't we all agree this is utter BS? I try not to read too much of the USA news because it is so horrifying, filled with deportations, ICE shootings, hate crimes, disease and polluted food, but it still seeps in. Family and friends seem more and more disassociated, like kidnapped victims trying to make it through each day. They message me asking for nice stories 'is it amazing there?' they cling to little details that get them through the week. "Are you really drinking Cava every day at lunch?" they ask with hope. I seem to be living this privileged life for many people simultaneously, offering a glimpse of what is still possible, 'Yes, and I water our rooftop terrace citrus trees topless'. I am always trying to give a little nugget of surprise, something that seems to make people laugh and escape their reality for a moment. Most of the time I can do this with ease, but not today. 

Maybe my irritation is in part that I am a little nostalgic knowing it is the heart of harvest time and my husband is back in NM making wine, wine I don't get to try as it pours fresh from the press. Maybe it is that today, Labor Day, I would normally be looking forward to eating my mother-in-law's amazing potato salad, welcoming my parents who always arrive 2 hours early to our house, or raising a glass to the fact that we are not working the wine festival due to the luxury of a prosperous tasting room. As I write this I feel hot stinging tears brimming in my eyes, angry tears. I am so angry that I felt pushed to leave my entire life behind because of the nightmare I saw unfolding. I am so angry that it has unfolded as I thought it would and people are asking "how did you know?!?". I am so angry that I can't hug my mom today, have her stroke my hair as I lay my head in her lap, and have her tell me it is all going to be OK. 

It is as if the ridiculousness of renaming our state suddenly triggered something I was doing a bang up job pushing down. The absurdity of this threat somehow has shown a light on the broken bonds, gaping loses, and substantial pain this move has given us. The pretending that we are still friendly with people when underneath there is a sense of betrayal on both sides is tedious, acting like there isn't an elephant in the room with each interaction. Letting strangers stay in our lovingly curated house, sipping on our wines while enjoying my dream view of a beautiful vineyard is brutal. Selling my brand new I'm-a-grown-up-that-has-made-it car along with every other loved item in my life has left a searing scar. But it is the people that understood our need to move, lovingly kissed us goodbye, wished us good luck while also wishing desperately that they could be moving with us that we miss, we miss them so much it really really hurts. So what are we supposed to do? Request an absentee ballot for an election that I doubt will happen? Laugh at memes of the world ending? Buy new things, keep ignoring the decay of relationships, turn the other cheek, pretend that things are not completely fu*ked up?

I'm sorry to go so dark, I know most of you that read this blog are in the USA stuck in a daily deluge of shit, and those lucky enough to live elsewhere are looking to me for a little levity, so let me pull the drain on this ship of despair and leave you with a bit of fun. I need to turn this day around for me as well, it is going to be a busy week. 

As you all have noticed, it is a constant celebration in Sitges and this week it is even more so as many celebrations overlap! We had the Dance Festival over the weekend, Bears Week parties all week/ weekend, Sept 11th La Diada Nacional de Catalonia which of course starts with a parade of torches on the night of the 10th, and the big Santa Tecla festival (like the Festa Major that just passed with huge parades, 24 hour parties and crazy fireworks) starting its cultural festivities this weekend. So have no fear, I won't be crying in my Cava for long, soon I will be dancing with barely clothed hairy gay men, shaking off fire sparks from an exploding dragon, and laughing with our wonderful new community of friends in the warm sea breeze.

Homesick

Well, it happened, I got hit with a strong bout of homesickness. Everyone said it would happen. People back in the USA almost threatened it with stories of how I'd regret this choice. People that also made the move abroad promised it would happen with their own stories of struggle, but as we rounded a year in Spain and almost a year in Sitges, it hadn't happened yet. 

On Tuesday Denali and I managed to figure out taking two trains to get to Tarragona for the solar eclipse. Tarragona is a coastal city south of us with amazing Roman ruins and a strong Casteller history. It is one of the biggest tourist destinations on our coast so we were excited to finally be seeing it. We stayed at a simple place on the Rambla which gave us easy walking access to the medieval city center. After a stress induced nap (complex travel in another language is exhausting) we wandered up and down the cobblestone streets. The origami of the new facades built around ancient doorways was charming and beautiful. We quickly found a perfect spot at a cafe, under a huge tree, to people watch. The heat seemed to blaze at you from all directions even in the shade, it was hotter than in Sitges. Armed with our hand fans snapping quickly at our faces, we sat with a group of locals and dripped sweat in unison. The light slowly turned orange, but it would still be hours before the sun would set, we sipped our chilled glasses of wine, and took in the view. 

People watching is a favorite pastime of mine. You learn so much about a place and the feeling of it by watching who is there and how they behave. As we let the afternoon unfold in-front of us, it became very noticeable that there were a lot of very hot and unhappy American families out touring. Group after group stopped to argue in the charming plaza, shirts wet and heavy with sweat, children sticky with melted ice cream, teenagers sulking, everyone deeply exhausted. They clearly had hit ALL the sights and now couldn't even use the fan they'd just bought at one of the many shops selling a little piece of take-a-way-Spain to cool off. I get it, we have all been there where you felt like you needed to see all the stuff in order to feel you had seen the place, but man did it look miserable from where I was sitting. One thing I have learned living in Spain this year is that slowing down and enjoying is mandatory and not getting to "it", whatever "it" is, is not only OK, but necessary. Many of the families attempted a cold drink at the cafe, but they were loudly annoyed by the slow service (Spain waiters are on their own timetable and it must be respected), confused by the offerings on the menu not being listed as tapas, and flabbergasted that there were no tacos, which resulted in a quick rejection of the respite we were enjoying. The other category of person we saw in droves were cisgender straight white men from various countries. They seemed to have come to Tarragona for the eclipse party and completely different motives than simply viewing an astronomical moment. These guys prowled the streets in front of us and I made a mental note to be more aware when we walked to the hotel at night. These two types of people have been blissfully missing from Sitges. Our little gay corner of the world attracts people wanting to chill out. There is a heavy LGBTQ+ community, a focus on the arts, and blessed little else to do than stroll the beautiful streets hand in hand and fall in love again. I swear you can actively watch people fall in love with each other in Sitges. New couples, old married couples, gay, straight, any race or religion, something in the sea air weaves a spell. It is a magical bubble free from angry over tired tourists, scary straight men, and any form of hurry up vibe. There are plenty of straight men by-the-way, they just also seem to be the kind that are loving and kind and don't walk around with a threatening attitude. I think that is why Tarragona in August stood out so strongly to us. Obviously the city is so much more than this micro view of it I was having, but you see what I'm saying. What I did love were the locals who were absolutely amazing, friendly, even adoring people. The receptionist at the hotel desk took a personal interest in making sure we could easily experience whatever it was we had on our wish list with ease. Our cafe waitress patiently allowed us to stumble through ordering and asking questions in spanish, which takes a saint, and encouraged our efforts. A little later she gently informed me, when I asked for a fork, that "in Spain we do not eat mussels with a fork, we eat them with our hands" then kindly brought me a fork. This was a tip I had not been given yet and I love that kind of stuff! After that, when she passed by and saw the fork untouched, my hands fully immersed in white wine and lemon broth sucking away at the plump sea creatures, she beamed approvingly at me and rubbed my shoulder. As night tucked away the sun, we walked back to the hotel under the colorful lights and stumbled upon a group of Castellers! A rainbow of the classic button down tailored shirts that identify which colla you belong to wove together in a crowd. They come together to practice stunts, to support and help each other with the trickier feats they would perform seperately at the eclipse party in the port the next day. It was really a wonderful symbol of the city's core and that was even more beautiful than the Roman ruins... which are totally amazing and you have to go see. 

The following day we did just that, we went to see the famous Roman ruins... in the middle of the day, in August. Rookie move, seriously a bad idea, and I know better. Even in those conditions it was epic, truly impressive, and we managed to get back to the hotel before full sunstroke kicked in. Another nap on the rock hard beds and we were ready for the eclipse party! We headed to the port where promises of food trucks, bands playing, and some 18,000 anticipated excited eclipse watchers would be. What we found was something that resembled a badly organized (shout out to my New Mexican peeps here) Zazobra event. It didn't matter, we got our beers, skipped the mess at the food stands, and found a great spot to watch from with a direct view over the water to the setting sun. As the progression of the moon started across the sky, the small stage in-front of us filled with three men playing various bongo drums and one with a rain stick. I grew up in Taos, NM so I am very familiar with this being how some people would want to celebrate a cosmic event of this nature. What blew my mind was that they gave the woman that joined them a mic and the festival organizers allowed her to moan/ shriek as she did what I can only assume was a goddess moon dance. I am all for everyone doing what is right for them and celebrating this incredible happening in a meaningful way, but that is if it doesn't harm others or force their beliefs on others. Well I felt assaulted by this performance. I am pretty sure there are people that could have had the same concept and yet also sang or did vocal scales hitting real notes. Luckily that all stopped in time to watch the actual totality. The huge sea of people went silent, then as the moon hit the epicenter and full totality was in place, a collective gasp happened. It is hard to explain, but watching the halo of light spear out behind the moon as we were plummeted into absolute darkness and at the same time have 18,000 people all be struck by the surprising intensity and power of this moment then gasp in unison was incredible. Had someone given me a mic I might have started moan/ sheiking too, you never know. 

We returned to the hotel instead of staying at the party that seemed to be morphing into a rave and took the route that allowed us to see the gigantic Monument to Castellers statue. It was finally a perfect temperature out and the air seemed to be filled with happiness. All the prowling men stayed at the port and the Rambla was blissfully filled with happy Spanish children playing. We bought cotton candy from a street vendor and marvelled at what we'd just witnessed. It was pure joy marked by a little sadness that Jesse, the one that had been most excited about this, wasn't able to be with us. I went to bed that night a little melancholy. 

Waking in the morning I bounced out of bed with more excitement than a child on Christmas morning. I shook my daughter awake and squealed "let's go home!!!". I could hardly contain myself as we packed and headed to the train station. I hadn't realized it until we were actually headed back to Sitges, but I had just had my first bout of homesickness. I recognized that while Tarragona is beautiful and fun to visit, I desperately wanted to be back in my bubble, my perfect little piece of heaven. I missed home, Sitges.

So to answer the question heavy in the air, no I am still not homesick for the USA or even New Mexico. That answer seems to make some people sad. I think some people are sad because they genuinely miss us, but I think it also makes some people sad because they are jealous. A friend that I had this conversation with responded with "ahhh you bitch! I wanna move to Europe!" which felt like an honesty others have masked with comments like 'oh that's nice' when I report zero feelings of remorse or loss. Yes, this is incredibly hard, like really really hard, and no, Sitges and Spain are not perfect in all of the ways, but something has seeped in, deep under my skin, that makes me feel joy on a level I can not explain. In fact the longer I am here, the stranger it seems to think that I haven't always lived here.

I also know what it feels like to watch people you care about make big choices that force you to feel uncomfortable feelings, or to have introspective quandaries that are frustrating or depressing, and it isn't fun. On the other side of those moments, I have always been able to either confirm my choices, make changes, let go of unhealthy relationships or start new ventures that result in a better life for myself. They have served as a push that I didn't know I needed at the time. Hopefully those that read this and feel annoyance, will also allow for the moan/ shriek you hear me doing right now to dissipate and allow you to take a deep breath and experience your own totality. Maybe my move, my lack of homesickness, doesn't need to reflect anything back to you, maybe we just need to gasp at the beauty of it all... together.

Hablas Espanol Con Fluidez? (are you fluent in spanish?)

My Spanish class crew at our favorite meet up bar

Inevitably someone has to ruin all the fun chit chat of moving to Spain and ask 'Hablas espanol con fluidez ahora (do you speak Spanish fluently now)?' To which I always respond "Si, hablo espanol perfectamente (yes, I speak spanish perfectly)!" and then Google Translate and I laugh and laugh and laugh.

No, I don't speak Spanish fluently. 

I feel your judgement, I know you are thinking I should be immersing myself in the language, quietly asking why bother moving to another country if you aren't going to learn the language? What a gross waste of an opportunity! 

Well, as Carrie Fisher's character in the movie When Harry Met Sally said "You're right, you're right, I know you're right."

Can I just say, for the record, no one told me that Spain Spanish was really different than the South American Spanish I grew up learning. Phrases and words need to be unlearned, did you know that? I am repeatedly being scolded in class when my brain inserts some relic from many years past. This makes it incredibly difficult to attempt speaking out in the "wild", feeling like I am doing it wrong and...well, doing it wrong. Also, why bother when everyone speaks Catalan anyway?

OK so that is the cranky me talking. It is frustrating and exhausting, but I am trying. In July 2025 we landed in Spain, by September we had moved to Sitges, and in October we started Spanish classes twice a week. Denali doubled down by also taking two semesters of Spanish online through her University Film Certificate program and I attempted visa and healthcare paperwork in Spanish. This was an unorthodox method, but I do now know things like 'necesito una cita' or 'tengo una tarjeta sanitaria' and one all of you regular readers will appreciate, the word 'empadronamiento' also known as going to the PADRON. That word scares me so much that I can assure you we are still getting very important government mail at our old address because I have not worked up the courage to go back in, face La Senora, and change it. So what is the hold up with my language skills as we come up on a year of classes?

I think there are several things at play here... the first thing is that just being in a different country is emotionally exhausting. Everything is new and different and it takes a toll. Something as simple as coffee necessitates a deep dive. Turns out they roast coffee beans with sugar in Spain which actually makes the coffee taste more bitter. If you don't like your coffee to taste like vomiting bile, then you must get beans marked natural. The second thing is that we moved to Catalonia (an autonomous region in Spain) that speaks Catalan so just learning to hear the differences in the 2 languages was a workout. For months I thought I was seriously learning impaired because I couldn't understand anything an-y-thing locals were saying and I assumed they were speaking Spanish. Catalan is tricky and it is everywhere here, the grocery store I like the most has all of its signs in Catalan. The store's own brand of foods, in Catalan. The checker? You guessed it, speaking Catalan. Fun trivia 'tens carnet de soci' means 'do you have a member card' in Catalan. My personal favorite is websites, like your healthcare patient portal, kindly offers to translate the Catalan into Spanish for ease, no English option. Awesome, that will help lots! The third issue is that we are in a touristy seaside town so people working in restaurants speak some English and want to switch to that the second they catch wind of my jackassery. I have to work really hard to fight the instinct to sound intelligent and instead clunk my way through a sentence in Spanish.  

In truth I do see baby steps in the right direction. I was able to help a little old woman find something in a store the other day and that required a full conversation, and when I was watching a video without subtitles last night I managed to get most of the information I needed. Jesse says he can see improvement simply because of the kind of questions I ask him when I need his help with my Spanish homework, so maybe I am getting something here and there. I have had a couple people praise my accent which is cool since it has required a shift from the South American click I've known my entire life. It isn't easy, I didn't think it would be, but I am trying, even if it is only a little bit every day. 

But hey, at least I can order a glass of wine and that is all that is really important, isn't it?

Castellers... and Why Did Jesse Join a Gang?

Castells are what Castellers build. Castells are human towers that exhibit incredible teamwork, concentration, athleticism, and community. It is perfectly described as "a genuinely Catalan tradition which UNESCO declared Intangible Heritage of Humanity in 2010" on the Castell website (click here to read more), but it is impossible to describe what it feels like to see one in person. The crowd goes silent as the core group that form the base link arms. Quickly members of the Colla (gang) fall into place and like a mass of ants the climbers gingerly step onto shoulders from all sides of the circle. Layer upon choreographed layer they climb up, their arms clasped, their legs shaking in effort, and piercing stares fixed on one another. In the audience, we all hold our breath. Drums and flute like instruments called gralles start to play as the musicians see the base is secure and the top levels of the castell can be formed. Then a small extremely brave child, usually around 5 years old, shimmies up to the tippy top (sometimes 8 or more levels high), flings an arm into the air like a rodeo bronc rider and shimmies back down the other side. As the child descends, the layers of the castell descend as well. When deconstructed safely, the crowd goes wild! It is dangerous, acrobatic, and beautiful, and being a witness to it feels incredibly special.

So the million dollar question is how the hell did Jesse, a newly transplanted American in Spain, find himself a member of this unique Catalan community? As you can imagine, it is an interesting story. He had come across videos of this phenomenon, the castells, as he was researching the region we were moving to. He eagerly showed Denali and I videos of some of the biggest ever made, some of the harrowing falls, and various performances the Sitges group had done in town. He could not wait to see one performed in person, but after 6 months in Sitges he still had no idea how someone would be lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time to catch it. 

As you have read in previous posts, we live in the oldest part of old town. We happen to live next door to the historic Palau Rei Moro (palace of the moorish king) which we had not been able to look inside of because it was always locked or hosting a private event. One night, when we were coming home after an evening with friends on the beach, the big heavy wooden doors of the Palau stood wide open. We hesitantly entered the ancient space and much to our surprise we found the castellers practicing inside! Our excitement was obvious and caught the attention of the director who immediately welcomed us. Within minutes we were encircled by members who lovingly kissed our cheeks and explained what we were seeing as a castell formed in the courtyard. Before we knew it we were given t-shirts, agreeing to go on the bus with them to a performance the following day, and Jesse was being signed up as a member. 

Over the following months we became a part of this special family known as the Colla Jove de Castellers de Sitges. When Jesse had to return to New Mexico in the spring, Denali and I attended their events, were invited to dinners and lovingly hugged when they saw us on the street. We even introduced two local friends to the group which garnered us extra badass points with the colla. When Jesse returned he was met with such genuine joy and warmth that it was quite literally a tearfilled reunion.

The Casteller connection has enriched our lives in Sitges, but also other places. On my recent trip to Roussillon, France, (which is part of Catalonia and I will write about that soon), I impressed the wine community there with the surprising information that not only did I live in Catalonia, but my husband was also a Casteller, I went from just another journalist to a fast friend. I have to admit it was a pretty amazing feeling and it made me want to pimp my husband out for other groups to join.

The most amazing thing is that I didn't think we could love Sitges any more than we already did, but this family, this gang, has given us such a rich layer to our lives that we can now feel like we didn't just move here, but that we belong here and there are simply no words to describe what that is like.

Home is What You Make it: The House Update

Our home: La Torre, was built in 1901 by a wealthy fish merchant as multi floor flats to rent to fishermen in the the booming port village of Sitges, Spain. The original, protective town wall encircled and focused its power to the cliffs and Mediterranean Sea (less than a few hundred feet away) and still has remaining parts of it adjacent to us. At the Seaside is the King's Palace and the incredible Sant Bartomeu i Santa Tecla Cathedral. The palace, Palau Marciel, and neighboring historic buildings are now museums and form the Paseo that is the exquisite, must-see-most-Instagramable spots in Sitges. This preserved area, Casc Antic, is the oldest part of the Old Town, and the oldest part of that old part is Calle d'en Bosc that dates back to the early 1400s. THAT is where we live. 

In the 1970s La Torre was renovated to be a single family home and while it has had updates, the eccentric mix of styles over more than a century is obvious. The exterior blends perfectly with the stone walls of the rest of the ancient road, but as it climbs into the sky, you can see the formations shift to reflect the traditional windows and shadow balcony popular at the turn of the 20th century. Inside, the irregular shaped rooms and central column staircase reflect the past as well. The bottom floor is an entry and large bedroom with full ensuite, we are using it as an office currently. Up the tiled stairs to the 1st floor you find 2 very strangely shaped bedrooms and 2 seperate full bathrooms. This floor is probably the easiest to imagine as fishermen flats a very very long time ago. Up another flight and we have our living spaces: living room with fireplace, small balcony with French doors, and large kitchen. Modern amenities in the kitchen include a dishwasher, and semi up to date appliances. It is bright and sunny with an open concept rarely found in Spain and one of the reasons I simply had to have this rental. Up the stairs to the final floor you find a glorious rooftop terrace and a utility shed that houses a mini refrigerator and clothes washer. I mention the mini fridge specifically because this terrace is absolutely where you want to be at all times and you simply must have chilled white wine waiting for you. 

Things I absolutely LOVE about this place are many, and some often surprise me. Having grown up with my dad owning a construction business specializing in custom homes, I rely on a room being square (as in proper angles to ensure walls don't lean, not that the room has to be a square in shape). I grew up that if a room isn't "square", there is a major problem with the construction. Not one single room in this house is "square", or a shape you could name. Even the kitchen was pieced into a space in a way that doesn't quite make sense. It opens wide and funnels in toward the sink at the far end reminding me of the haul of a boat, a hint at the history of the house that I can't help but love. This narrowing also allows for a natural focal point being the incredible view out the big windows over the sink that gaze out at red tiled roofs on ancient buildings and just on the other side, the top of the cathedral with its peaceful bell that tolls on the hour. I love the antique chandelier and the exposed wood rafters in the living room. I love that flinging open the heavy windows and shutters gives you a fat stone perch to sit on and watch the festivities below when Sitges turns on its charm for one of its many, many fiestas. I love the cobblestone streets I walk to get home, I love the orangey glow of the city lights as you watch the sunset from the terrace. I love the giddy feeling everytime I open the heavy front door and step inside, and I am surprised to love hanging my laundry on the line for the hot breeze to dry. And... I admit I love that they retrofitted the house to have AC on each floor. 

So that was all the basic info about the house, but what have we done to make it ours? Well, it has come slowly. We are poorer now than we have been in a very long time, since we first opened the winery tasting room 23 years ago actually. Thankfully wine is cheap, food is fresh and plentiful and we don't need much to make Spain feel like heaven on earth. The other thing that has helped our adjustment is that the family that is renting La Torre to us, has done so with such love and trust. Upon meeting La Señora, she took a keen interest in how we reacted to each element in the house. She relished that we noticed small quirky things, asked about the history, and squealed with delight around every corner. Having passed the not so hidden foreigners moving to the area test, we were invited to rent long term from her. It felt as special then as we have learned it really is to have found this rare gem of a place. Making the place feel like us will take time, but it instantly felt like home because of this.

The entire house had been half decorated with antiques with modern inserts layered on top and due to the configuration of the house and stairs, those items are here to stay... forever. I hate the sofa, it has clearly been around for decades and likes to have the cushions slide forward when you sit on them. I fantasize about cutting it up into pieces with a chainsaw and throwing it out one of the big windows. I'm pretty sure La Señora would thank me for it. We did get a sofa cover, cranberry red velvet, that helped the look of it and have supplemental throw pillows, in varying shades of green velvet, but it is still not very comfortable. I took down all the paintings of country scenes that had some charm in making it feel like we lived in a castle, but simply were not our style and made it feel like we were only here for a short stay, not a long term lease. Our walls are still a bit stark, but slowly they are coming to be filled with black and white vintage photography and modern scenes of Sitges made by a local artist that we've fallen in love with. 

Bedrooms got mattress toppers and new sheets immediately; fun florals with a modern vibe. Bedside lamp shades have been swapped out and the same combo of art upstairs is hanging in our bedrooms. Little things like shelving for the bathroom, towels, and electronics aren't really exciting, but obviously necessary. And who am I kidding? I was tickled pink placing the wood stackable shelves in the bathroom! I had measured it to perfection so that when I put it together, it slide into the closet and was exactly what the space needed. Also the towels were a little exciting too... I had to order new towels because I listened to a boy about buying the first round, which sucked as much as I thought they might, and later had to order the ones I wanted in the first place. Of course this is after said boy complained about how much he hated the towels for over a month. The new towels are really great. We talk about them a lot LOL!

The biggest impact has been the rooftop terrace. Jesse has turned the place into an Eden with a lemon tree, cherry tree, lime tree and tons of planters filled with succulents and flowering bushes. My amazing mom made sure we had a table and chairs and a giant umbrella (thank you mom! Those housewarming gifts really made it a home!) and I put up a string of tea lights for the perfect evening vibe. Living in a city, much less Spain, having an outdoor space is pure gold and we are hyper aware of just how lucky we are. Also our new friends, a collection of locals and expats from various countries, tell us on repeat. 

Our home is a 2 minute walk down hill to San Sebastian Beach, or a 5 minute walk up over the crest of the cobblestone street lined cliff, next to the church, and down to the main line up of Sitges beaches. The incredible, and famous, Promenade stretches out from the base of the church staircase, along the beaches and in front of the many shops and cafes beckoning you to stroll there nearly daily. The charming alley down hill takes you to a restaurant/ bar with window service so people are always collected in the shade of the white buildings sipping fabulous local wines or a glass of beer. Just past that, across the 5 way intersection of twisting streets, is our favorite little market selling some of the most gorgeous fruit you've ever seen. Across from the little grocer is a carniceria showcasing Iberico in the windows, it is all so picture perfect it almost seems unreal. Jesse's casteller group practices right next door to us in the very special space of Palau Rei Moro, there is a wine shop next door the other direction, and past the coffee shop at the end of the road is the Town Hall meaning every single important event is only a few steps away, and yet the street is quiet and peaceful.

The most interesting updates to our home have happened to us internally, but are represented by small things around us. Our Carnival masks sit in the glass case of the antique armour, our bedazzled merman statue sits next to the TV delightfully reminding of how in Sitges every single day is a celebration, Film Festival fan items are scattered around the house, and a gigantic poster of the Roussillon wine region (a gift from my recent media trip to the area) hangs in our kitchen reminding us that Catalonia is so much more than an area in Spain. And the most important updates we have had are due to the unbelievable love we have been enfolded with by the locals. I could not have dreamt up this reality, this place, this home, this feeling, but it is remarkable. Often we simply look at each other and marvel that we live here, that we are so luck as to call this home.

The Choose Your Own Adventure Post

Corner of our house (with grape vine)

I didn't drink wine last night... and I had my first panic attack in Spain. A coincidence? Maybe, but I think we can all interpret the findings as conclusive; not drinking wine is bad for my health. 

We have had oppressive heat in Spain, but what they don't tell you is that the humidity is what really kills. Having been born and raised in arid New Mexico, USA, I have zero clue how humidity works. Evidently it makes 86 degrees, with 53% humidity (I know!!!) feel like 94 degrees. Layer on top of that that I have had covid with an added sinus infection and a cough that becomes one of those gasping for air types (and sometimes throwing up), I had a combination of factors making me feel seriously suffocated. 

I am struggling with a daily sense of claustrophobia that is blowing my mind a bit. Jesse just got here and already will have to return at the beginning of August. I feel a little cheated since we had thought he would have a few more weeks with us. Unfortunately grapes are coming in early and when grapes call, you answer.

So what else has been happening since March and my last post? So so much fun, party, celebration that I don't know where to begin!

So, you tell me, what do you want to hear about most?

Carnival (wild party and surprisingly sentimental)

London wine trip (once in a lifetime tasting)

Teaching at the Universite Haute Alsace (incredible 3 session conference lead by yours truly)

Castellers with Jesse (human towers and the gang Jesse joined)

Tapa a Tapa (the festival of food touring)

Wine trip to Rousillon, France (media trip where I am wined and dined)

Corpus Christi (the magical flower carpets of Sitges)

Pride week (and how it almost killed me)

Tour de France IN Sitges (a dream come true for fans)

Update on the house (changes to make us feel more at home)

Don't Be Afraid!

I have just finished reading a Wine Enthusiast Magazine article about how it is OK for you to ask the Somm for a different glass. This comes on the heels of teaching classes in Colmar (one of which was about marketing to the American wine consumer) to young Gen Zers and I now feel the need to share with all of you my thoughts on this subject.

One of the things that I talked to these fresh faces about was the generational marketing strategies we need to employ to sell wine. For those in the booze biz Gen Z has been a point of contention with worry about their lack of drinking and its effects on the industry, however when they DO drink we make fun of them. We were horrified when they put jalapenos in their glass of Sauv Blanc, and in the UK there are ancestors rolling over in their graves as kids put ice in their beers. These topics are not new, but I think have resurfaced at a crucial moment in time when we really need to make changes before all us Somms are out on the street. 

The WE article starts with the topic of the glass, well they actually start with a comment about ice in wine and how we should all get over it if someone does that. As a person that wants more people drinking wine, if putting ice in it makes you order a wine or buy a bottle instead of something else, then I will get the ice bucket for you! Also, I have done this myself on a hot day while sitting on the patio and fully loved the experience. Now as to the subject of the glass... this is something that is actually always evolving. This is why there is a new shape or size or this, that, or the other happening. Technically the way to enjoy sparkling wines is in a bigger bowl than the standard flute offers. This shift is due to a need to smell the wine itself more accurately and the larger glass allows for that. This is also a shift from the focus being on the crystal glass maker's ability to streamline your bubbles in a beautiful way to a focus on what art the winemaker created. The problem is that Champagne has done such an amazing job marketing themselves as the wine for special occasions and the glass it should be drank in that if it isn't Champagne and it isn't in a flute, you shouldn't even be celebrating. In fact the impression is that you are a dumbass and in the edited words of a famous Seinfeld episode "NO BUBBLES FOR YOU!". But here is the kicker, the person dead set on the flute is going to enjoy that wine so much more having it the way they want it! So why does it bother us so much to let them?

The Somm Secrets at the end of the WE article also reminded me of some of the student questions I was asked. These young wine curious people shyly asked if I had a favorite wine (y'all read that previous post of mine), if I ever added fruit or ice or soda to my wine, and of course, the question of the hour, what glass do you think wine should be drank out of.

As a quick note, my answer about fruit these days is to say I am now a resident of Spain and the Tinto de Verano is a staple at my house. This wine drink has lemon and lime wedges. I would say it is more of a wine cocktail because it also has a splash of Gasosa (sorta a soda and sorta just flavored mineral water). I've also been known to throw blueberries or raspberries in a glass of bubbly.

For the record, I am a passionate Riedel science fan and DO believe there is a perfect glass for each grape/ wine, but I also think that is far too complicated to carry out (or store) especially for the average wine enthusiast. I personally only have 2 kinds of wine glass in my cabinet, a small white wine glass (sometimes called a Riesling glass) and a large white wine glass. This is usually super surprising to people, but I think most red wine glasses are far to large. The small glass I use for white wines, bubbly and lighter bodied reds like Alsatian Pinot Noirs. The larger glass I use for full bodied whites and reds. I do also have a third glass... sorta. It is a tumbler or rocks glass that I use for Tintos and when I have a cheap wine not needing attention. 

I do have preferences even in my simple daily glasses that I find hard to compromise. I believe in a cut rim to avoid the speed bump dump of wine a rolled lip creates. That sloppy intro to your palate can ruin a nice wine. I do also prefer the hips in the glass shape, but I stop there with advice because I have drank my wine out of paper cups, often out of these recycled Sitges Film Fest plastic glasses as I walk around town or sit on the beach, and I have even enjoyed wine out of the cut apart plastic water bottle or soda can (be very careful not to get cut!). Other frowned upon things no one thinks Somms do, but we definitely do do, is shove the cork in (pen works the best) more times than I can count, had the wine get too warm, accidentally froze the wine, and we have ALL definitely drank it straight out of the bottle. 

My point is, I want you to enjoy the wine in your glass, no matter what the shape is or if it has ice in it. I want you to be having fun and making sure that WINE be a part of that fun. Most Somms these days feel the same way! So don't be afraid to ask for a different glass, ask for ice, ask for help selecting the wine you will like from their list and do it with confidence.

Next up... price and how to find that magic bottle for a good price on a restaurant menu or in a wine shop.