We have been so busy with travelling and touring wineries that I haven't had a moment to finalize any of my blog post drafts. Almost a month into our trip, I feel like those adventures are a world away. Now, I sit in an adorable, tiny apartment in the Austrian Alps...listening to the annoying, incessant high pitched whir of a power washer. Austria is picture perfect with manicured lawns, meticulously cared for planters of flowers and clean driveways and roads. I can see why now, they power wash everything for many hours.
Other than the current annoyance, this trip has been incredible. I last left you at the Castle in Slovakia, from which we hit the magical town of Estergom, Hungary with its exquisite cathedral dome. I got to have another one of my epic dome freak outs (referencing the panic attack I had in the Duomo in Florence, Italy a couple of years ago), when I heard a large group of teenagers on a school trip beneath me as I wound upwards in an ever tighter, steep stairwell and pictured being wedged in, no way out, and BAM mom is losing her sh*t. I quickly peeled layers of cloths off, spontaneous sweat dripped into my eyes and I bolted. I was already part way back down when I heard my son and husband shouting that the exit was at the top and down a different stairwell. I needed a very large glass of wine after that. Luckily Hungary has fabulous wines.
Having judged at a large International Wine Competition in NY, I've had the opportunity to taste some of the dry wines of Hungary (correct, they have much more than just the famous sweet Tokaji), but the quality and price was shocking now actually being in Hungary. A great wine is about $1 per glass at a restaurant and a really amazing glass of aged, reserve wine is $2. In the store they are $5 for incredible wines. It is a good thing I am a professional drinker or I wouldn't have survived the massive injestion of wines I felt I needed to consume at those prices.
At the end of our 1st week of the trip, we were in Budapest where I was the only USA judge at VinAora International Wine Competition and one of only 11 women judges; it was an incredible honor.
Budapest has never called me. I've traveled to other parts of the world, been lured to far off destinations, but for some reason Budapest seemed like a part of the world reserved for backpackers that like to stay in hostels and go to raves. OK maybe I've seen too many movies, but you get my point. Boy was I wrong! Well, technically not about the backpackers, but about Budapest not being for me. Budapest is so much FOR me that I immediately started to fantasize about how to live there for a while. It is at once elegant and fragile with the pre-war majesty proudly presented on the facades of every building clashing with the evidence and wear of the wars chinking away at the plaster and stone; the new optimism after communism is apparent and the combination is electric. It is a place filled with opulence, yet comfortable and friendly.
From Budapest we headed out into the countryside of Hungary. I was sad to leave the gorgeous city, unsure what we would find as our wine tour extravaganza picked up steam, but we excitedly clicked 'Eger' into our GPS and headed into the unknown.
Eger, Hungary won all the awards for adorable in our book. The charm of the Hungarian countryside can not be denied and the town was perfection. Once we found it that is. GPS is an amazing tool...until it plays a practical joke on you.
Not understanding how to enter a Hungarian address into GPS, we blindly followed our talking car. As "you have arrived at your destination" was announced, we looked at each other questioningly. You see, most of our trip has been arranged by my friend and now Fairy God Father who also employed the help of his friends, so this section of the trip was arranged by someone I have never met, named Jozsef. Jozsef is an ex-diplomat and was the Hungarian Ambassador to several South American countries so I assumed we were in very capible hands, however, never having met the man, his idea of "you will stay with my friend" could very well mean at the location we were parked in-front of and not a quaint winery like we imagined.
An older man walked out of his modest home to greet us. Dressed in well used overalls and boots, he inquisitively looked at us. Chickens clucked behind me as I stood next to the car and asked, like a child, if by chance he spoke English... by simply saying "English???", he shook his head and stood on the steps of his porch staring at me. I looked around at the barn nearby and then at my husband and child in the car, the movie Texas Chainsaw Masacre popped into my head and I fumbled with the paper in my hand. "Uhhhhhhh...do you know Jozsef???" I lamely asked the man who had just told me he didn't speak English. His eyes lit up and he came closer, clearly he knew Jozsef! Success I thought and pulled my phone out and attempted to Google Translate that Jozsef said we would stay with him. He read the translated message on my phone and looked at me clearly confused and slowly, but deliberately shook his head no. I tried to rephrase the statement, maybe, hopefully, he was going to send us to another location and we wouldn't actually be sleeping in this strange farmer's home. "Jozsef sent us to you, we are from USA, did he tell you about us?" he read the message on my phone and again he shook his head no. I decided this could not be right and said 'Danke' (the only German word I knew hoping maybe he spoke a little German too), jumped in the car and told my family that even if that was the right place, we were not staying there.
Another awkward encounter, one spilled coffee and some WiFi later, we were in-front of a charming little winery asking to be let in... "because Jozsef said we would be staying with you". I was feeling like a complete ass at this point and made a mental note to stop telling people that, after all we'd only an hour ago almost moved in with some poor old farmer who was probably calling his friend 'Jozsef' and asking why he had sent a weird family of Americans to stay with him. Luckily the winery welcomed us in and we called it a day with a bottle of wine in their courtyard.
Staying in a winery, as we have now done several times on this trip, is super fun as they give you the keys to the tasting room to have at their selection of treats. I can't imagine doing this with our own winery, but man do I love it at someone else's! It was one of many little things that made Hungary feel very friendly. That and the bountiful meals with delicious food, nothing makes me as happy as wine and food... shown by the plump form I was sausaging into jeans. Needless to say, they serve far more than just Goulash. The people are warm and helpful (despite their stern looks that our Slovakian winemaker friend would call "Russian faces") and the atmosphere is nothing short of delightful. I was intrigued and enchanted.
After Edger, we hit Tokaj and then Villany then Lake Balaton then Heligenbrunn then to Langegg then finally to our escape from the wine tour intensive for a respite in Hallstatt, where I am currently writing this. I will follow this post up with individual ones about all the wineries we have been to, the incredible winemakers that took time to be with us and the once in a lifetime experiences we were able to have because they did, in-fact, know Jozsef. But for now, the dizzying view of the great Alps and a delicious glass of Gruner Veltliner await me.
Cheers and remember, before anything else, Wine First.
Thursday, April 25, 2019
Thursday, April 11, 2019
Why YES, I Will Take a Castle
Our 2 days at Chateau Bela flew by. Walking the grounds, lounging in our full suite apartment, dining at the exceptional restaurant, being waited on by white gloved hands in perfectly appointed salons of art... you know, living like Royalty. In fact, we heard Prince Harry does stay there soooo...clearly the we are same. It was remarkable, every table was laden with fresh tulips, and we meandered the succession of rooms, each more elaborate and decadent, alone. Somehow, while near to impossible to book a room at the constantly full Castle, we never saw any other guests. In fact, as strange and ethereal the landscape of Slovakia was and how transcendent this place was, it seemed perfectly reasonable to wonder if we had quite literally died and gone to heaven; a version of the movie The Sixth Sense with us not knowing we have been dead the whole time. Sorry, but not sorry if that was a spoiler, you should have seen that movie a million years ago.
Reality, or as close as one can come to it in that strange fairy tale like land, was introduced when we finally met the famous Miro Petrech. Miro is the winemaker at Chateau Bela and business partners with the world renowned Egon Muller from Germany. Miro was not simply a large man, but a larger than life man with a personality big enough to fill the entire Castle. He greeted us as if old friends, just another gift from the man I've taken to calling my Fairy God Father (Lubos is the man that has lined up perks and treats throughout our entire trip), asked that Miro give us a special tour and tasting. Miro scoffed when I introduced myself via the Google Translate App. "Michele, speak Russian!" he demanded. We couldn't help but to laugh, his infectious personality instantly putting us at ease. A young woman had accompanied him and she translated the rest of the Slovak speech Miro had launched into. Seems he spoke Hungarian, Slovakian, German and Russian...English however, hardly a word. I immediately felt like a beast of an American coming to this part of the world not speaking any other language than English. He repeated the demand with shock that I didn't speak Russian, and it started to seem reasonable, I looked like everyone in Central Europe, why didn't I speak Russian?!?
The young, timid girl translated as quickly as possible while we were led down some well worn stone steps into a deep cellar, the brick vaulted ceiling clamped out all of the world as we knew it and we were submerged into the winery, a place that had hardly changed in 500 years. Miro danced around us pulling dusty bottles from hidden corners and draining luscious liquid from tanks, his huge hands sweeping through the air as he spoke about the vineyard and his wines with passion. His joy and warmth enveloped us and it seemed almost as if he could launch into a song as his laughter burst forth. Oddly it was like being in a Disney Cartoon where the peasant girl is swept into the special castle only to discover some magical entity that coyly transforms her into a... Russian??? Sorry, no way to finish that fantasy in real terms and since he really wanted me to speak Russian, that's all I got. Anyway, you get it, it was freaking magical.
Wine after wine was poured. We tasted these brilliant creations in awe, scratching notes as fast as I could before Miro would yank the glass from my hand, flip its contents out and fill it with a new sample. Our breath was white in the cold room, but we were warm with the dizzying array of wines. It was obvious why he is famous for his wines, they are mythical creations with white wines aging 30 to 50 years and fetching $20,000 for some. Over an hour had disappeared in the deep cave of the Castle when we broached the surface of the earth and the setting sun. It was disorienting, in a good way.
While Miro joked about the wines being as pure as 'Mother's Milk', he filled my arms with bottles of wines, cradled in love, my back ached with the same strain I remember from holding my heavy child when he was a plump baby. It seemed surreal as the light shifted into a deep glow and the magnanimous man ushered us off with happy "Cheers to us in America when you drink the wine!". Somehow, I had become the one being thanked for doing the tasting.
We lumbered up to our room to drop the wines and fetch our child for dinner, a pleasant buzz thrumming through our veins, and headed to a final dinner at the Castle. We settled in feeling thoroughly pampered and sad to say goodbye to Chateau Bela.
And then Breakfast happened.
Breakfast was held in a glorious room that was bright and light and somehow yellow? I can't say the wallpaper was yellow, but maybe it was? I can't say the furniture was yellow as I'm sure it was wood with white cushion seats, but the single yellow tulips on each table and the stunning view of the gardens, made for a delightfully elegant scene that impressed upon me...yellow. Anyhow, it was our second breakfast there and we figured we knew the scene well enough to know what to do and where we wanted to sit (with the best view, duh!). And then, sneaking up in a charming way only a man that is bigger than a doorway can do, Miro came over to 'surprise' us. This man simply makes people happy. His tan work worn skin was supple and soft and his demeanor was so easy that I couldn't help giggling like a little girl at the obvious, sweet, gentle giant as he played at sneaking up. He had come to say goodbye again, but as luck would have it, the Princess of the Castle was there and he wanted to introduce us.
OK, she wasn't an actual Princess. She was the daughter to the Countess...who owned the Castle and she now runs it and obviously will inherit it. And it is a Castle after all soooo...uhhhh, pretty much a Princess. Oh and she was lovely with long blonde hair that coiled just perfectly at the ends, and her skin was the kind of luminous feature that lets you know she has only ever had the best creams to use (maybe baby's blood? When you see skin like that, baby's blood seems like a reasonable way to get it right?) only she was also modern and spoke excellent English. Her super cool jacket eluded to the fact that she was raised around horses and the very traditional fox hunting of the area, and what the Castle is known for if you are among the elite that can go there for that. She was smart, confidant, friendly and professional, everything a modern Princess should be.
And only after THAT, did we finally leave and start our travels toward Budapest and my first judging overseas at an International Wine Competition. So far, seriously soooooo good.
* Please google Chateau Bela for wines that are imported to the USA. Their Rieslings are to die for and their Alibernet is incredible.
Reality, or as close as one can come to it in that strange fairy tale like land, was introduced when we finally met the famous Miro Petrech. Miro is the winemaker at Chateau Bela and business partners with the world renowned Egon Muller from Germany. Miro was not simply a large man, but a larger than life man with a personality big enough to fill the entire Castle. He greeted us as if old friends, just another gift from the man I've taken to calling my Fairy God Father (Lubos is the man that has lined up perks and treats throughout our entire trip), asked that Miro give us a special tour and tasting. Miro scoffed when I introduced myself via the Google Translate App. "Michele, speak Russian!" he demanded. We couldn't help but to laugh, his infectious personality instantly putting us at ease. A young woman had accompanied him and she translated the rest of the Slovak speech Miro had launched into. Seems he spoke Hungarian, Slovakian, German and Russian...English however, hardly a word. I immediately felt like a beast of an American coming to this part of the world not speaking any other language than English. He repeated the demand with shock that I didn't speak Russian, and it started to seem reasonable, I looked like everyone in Central Europe, why didn't I speak Russian?!?
The young, timid girl translated as quickly as possible while we were led down some well worn stone steps into a deep cellar, the brick vaulted ceiling clamped out all of the world as we knew it and we were submerged into the winery, a place that had hardly changed in 500 years. Miro danced around us pulling dusty bottles from hidden corners and draining luscious liquid from tanks, his huge hands sweeping through the air as he spoke about the vineyard and his wines with passion. His joy and warmth enveloped us and it seemed almost as if he could launch into a song as his laughter burst forth. Oddly it was like being in a Disney Cartoon where the peasant girl is swept into the special castle only to discover some magical entity that coyly transforms her into a... Russian??? Sorry, no way to finish that fantasy in real terms and since he really wanted me to speak Russian, that's all I got. Anyway, you get it, it was freaking magical.
Wine after wine was poured. We tasted these brilliant creations in awe, scratching notes as fast as I could before Miro would yank the glass from my hand, flip its contents out and fill it with a new sample. Our breath was white in the cold room, but we were warm with the dizzying array of wines. It was obvious why he is famous for his wines, they are mythical creations with white wines aging 30 to 50 years and fetching $20,000 for some. Over an hour had disappeared in the deep cave of the Castle when we broached the surface of the earth and the setting sun. It was disorienting, in a good way.
While Miro joked about the wines being as pure as 'Mother's Milk', he filled my arms with bottles of wines, cradled in love, my back ached with the same strain I remember from holding my heavy child when he was a plump baby. It seemed surreal as the light shifted into a deep glow and the magnanimous man ushered us off with happy "Cheers to us in America when you drink the wine!". Somehow, I had become the one being thanked for doing the tasting.
We lumbered up to our room to drop the wines and fetch our child for dinner, a pleasant buzz thrumming through our veins, and headed to a final dinner at the Castle. We settled in feeling thoroughly pampered and sad to say goodbye to Chateau Bela.
And then Breakfast happened.
Breakfast was held in a glorious room that was bright and light and somehow yellow? I can't say the wallpaper was yellow, but maybe it was? I can't say the furniture was yellow as I'm sure it was wood with white cushion seats, but the single yellow tulips on each table and the stunning view of the gardens, made for a delightfully elegant scene that impressed upon me...yellow. Anyhow, it was our second breakfast there and we figured we knew the scene well enough to know what to do and where we wanted to sit (with the best view, duh!). And then, sneaking up in a charming way only a man that is bigger than a doorway can do, Miro came over to 'surprise' us. This man simply makes people happy. His tan work worn skin was supple and soft and his demeanor was so easy that I couldn't help giggling like a little girl at the obvious, sweet, gentle giant as he played at sneaking up. He had come to say goodbye again, but as luck would have it, the Princess of the Castle was there and he wanted to introduce us.
OK, she wasn't an actual Princess. She was the daughter to the Countess...who owned the Castle and she now runs it and obviously will inherit it. And it is a Castle after all soooo...uhhhh, pretty much a Princess. Oh and she was lovely with long blonde hair that coiled just perfectly at the ends, and her skin was the kind of luminous feature that lets you know she has only ever had the best creams to use (maybe baby's blood? When you see skin like that, baby's blood seems like a reasonable way to get it right?) only she was also modern and spoke excellent English. Her super cool jacket eluded to the fact that she was raised around horses and the very traditional fox hunting of the area, and what the Castle is known for if you are among the elite that can go there for that. She was smart, confidant, friendly and professional, everything a modern Princess should be.
And only after THAT, did we finally leave and start our travels toward Budapest and my first judging overseas at an International Wine Competition. So far, seriously soooooo good.
* Please google Chateau Bela for wines that are imported to the USA. Their Rieslings are to die for and their Alibernet is incredible.
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
Am I dreaming?
From Vienna, we ventured into the unknown...also called Slovakia. Once a part of Czechoslovakia, this area became its own country in 1993. Now as we traveled the thin lane roads toward our destination, we marveled at what we saw. This area is definitely not like Austria, where we were coming from, or the rest of the Western part of Europe. It is hard to describe why it feels different, but it really does.
We arrived at the thermal pools in the countryside of Slovakia and the high security, small metal gates opened and closed around us in succession. The green grass and flowering tress gave an air of gentleness against the stern gates and it was difficult to assimilate what we were feeling with what we were seeing. The modern, comfortable apartment was perfection, yet no art on the walls made for an uncomfortable, yet indistinguishable element to the environment.
Our check in process was challenging to say the least. With my google translate app in overdrive, we tried to get through the important details at hand and when the receptionist finally had given up, she asked the gardener who spoke some English to come in and help. It was a first for my language gifted husband to feel at a loss in a situation, but Slovak simply does not come naturally to us. Everything about the place seemed at once easy and familiar while also being difficult and shrouded in a harsh history they haven't quite shaken.
Finally at the pools, we soaked for hours, melting the jet lag away for good. Light pink petals cascaded from the trees and the warm sun kissed our shoulders. We sat and ate ice cream and drank $1 glasses of decent Slovakian wine. It was a collision of realities that made for a very dreamlike state and we floated on it's surreal atmosphere into the night.
The next morning, we drove further into Slovakia toward a castle that would be our home for the next couple of days. The road twisted through bright green pastures that stretched as far as the eye could see, small and out of place, these roads seemed to take you on a journey that didn't quite make sense, yet unfolded into a series of little villages that made the mind gasp at the stories hidden there. Relative wealth seemed to be falling on these hamlets, yet they screamed of the past with dark and sinister meanings; their vacant cement walls and broken windows echoing the not so far off history.
As we neared the Castle, I was hit with the clarity that this is a land of fairy tales and the entire landscape suddenly made more sense. The delights and the masked horrors that may lay ahead were perfectly mirrored in odd sights such as a flock of long necked white swans sitting in a field next to the road or the cluster of delightfully manicured gardens in-front of tiny houses that sprouted out of nowhere. It made for a strange out of body feeling that wasn't bad, but more like a deja-vu disturbance.
When we arrived at the Castle, it was anything but the sketchy, dark building I had imagined, but instead was completely refurbished and painted a delightful yellow. This epic, historical site was also home to the most famous Slovakian Winery and it oozed charm like you would not believe. Immediately we knew, this would be a fairy tale come true and we pinched ourselves to make sure this wasn't, in fact, a dream.
We arrived at the thermal pools in the countryside of Slovakia and the high security, small metal gates opened and closed around us in succession. The green grass and flowering tress gave an air of gentleness against the stern gates and it was difficult to assimilate what we were feeling with what we were seeing. The modern, comfortable apartment was perfection, yet no art on the walls made for an uncomfortable, yet indistinguishable element to the environment.
Our check in process was challenging to say the least. With my google translate app in overdrive, we tried to get through the important details at hand and when the receptionist finally had given up, she asked the gardener who spoke some English to come in and help. It was a first for my language gifted husband to feel at a loss in a situation, but Slovak simply does not come naturally to us. Everything about the place seemed at once easy and familiar while also being difficult and shrouded in a harsh history they haven't quite shaken.
Finally at the pools, we soaked for hours, melting the jet lag away for good. Light pink petals cascaded from the trees and the warm sun kissed our shoulders. We sat and ate ice cream and drank $1 glasses of decent Slovakian wine. It was a collision of realities that made for a very dreamlike state and we floated on it's surreal atmosphere into the night.
The next morning, we drove further into Slovakia toward a castle that would be our home for the next couple of days. The road twisted through bright green pastures that stretched as far as the eye could see, small and out of place, these roads seemed to take you on a journey that didn't quite make sense, yet unfolded into a series of little villages that made the mind gasp at the stories hidden there. Relative wealth seemed to be falling on these hamlets, yet they screamed of the past with dark and sinister meanings; their vacant cement walls and broken windows echoing the not so far off history.
As we neared the Castle, I was hit with the clarity that this is a land of fairy tales and the entire landscape suddenly made more sense. The delights and the masked horrors that may lay ahead were perfectly mirrored in odd sights such as a flock of long necked white swans sitting in a field next to the road or the cluster of delightfully manicured gardens in-front of tiny houses that sprouted out of nowhere. It made for a strange out of body feeling that wasn't bad, but more like a deja-vu disturbance.
When we arrived at the Castle, it was anything but the sketchy, dark building I had imagined, but instead was completely refurbished and painted a delightful yellow. This epic, historical site was also home to the most famous Slovakian Winery and it oozed charm like you would not believe. Immediately we knew, this would be a fairy tale come true and we pinched ourselves to make sure this wasn't, in fact, a dream.
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