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.