To Berlin, With Love

WHOA where did the summer go?!? So much has happened and I just left you all with me stuck in the Paris Airport. How rude of me. Let's start from there, I was headed to Berlin. 

Berlin was fantastic, other than flying with Delta Airlines who managed to screw up at every step including losing our luggage and submerging it in water in some sadistic hoax? OK it was probably left out in a hurricane and not done on purpose, but the end result was literally soaking wet clothing that had started to rot so when the luggage did arrive finally it also had to be laundered repeatedly; luckily I brought my mother on this trip. You think I'm joking, but she literally did my laundry while I went to work... it was AWESOME. We also had no other choice but to go shopping. I had the Wine Competition after all and my ripped jeans and cool band t-shirt would not work (I put that in there for my husband, I HAD TO SHOP). What was working (on overdrive) was my usual stress issues. But did I lose all sense of smell and make an ass out of myself as my panic attack would have had me believe prior to the competition? Nope, I managed to scare myself to death for nothing. Again.

The 1st day we woke up in Berlin, we pulled the heavy curtains to the sides of the large window in our lovely apartment and saw, across the square, draped drown the front of the building, was the biggest rainbow Pride flag I've ever seen. Instantly we knew we were going to like Berlin, it was the perfect welcome for my daughter's 1st, fully out as her beautiful self, experience. Oh and I might mention that I had thought I was bringing a son on the trip, but had recently found out that I have a daughter when she came out to me as transgender a month previous. Now she was out to the world and Berlin had its arms wide for a giant embrace.

We walked to the cute cafe just around the corner and tried to focus our jet lagged eyes on our new surroundings. Is she seriously going to drop the bomb about her kid and then go back to talking about coffee?!? I can't focus! This was a first for all of us (myself, my parents and my transgender daughter) to be in Germany. Oh my gawd she just did it again! Just throws it out there like it's nothing! And while Central Europe and Austria had shared much of the same history, it was fascinating to behold Berlin and how uniquely different it was. 

I'm not sure what I expected to see, maybe more desolation? But the huge trees that shaded you in the immense heat all over the city were gorgeous and the mix of old historical buildings and modern swirling architecture was breathtaking. Each area we explored was charming in its own way and quickly we fell into step with the laid back, easy atmosphere. She really isn't going to give us the back story is she? Throw us a bone!

The delays we suffered getting to Berlin resulted in me having no time to play tourist before I had to shuttle over to my hotel in West Berlin for the competition and say goodbye to my family who stayed in East Berlin. Ya, her transgender daughter! There are so many questions, we need details! I settled into judging, being extremely well taken care of and the family hit the sites! At breaks I'd see excited texts of their adventures and hear how much they loved the city. 

The competition was extraordinary! Judges from all parts of the world, and over 6,200 wines to sample as well. It was well run and they even gave us the afternoons off to go explore on their dime! I'd jaunt off to meet up with my family and see a museum or do a city tour, then return to my hotel for the evening. It afforded me the ability to focus on work and still play. As always the worry that I am a fraud was a waste of time and a topic to bookmark for my next therapy session. Oh good she's in therapy. I wonder if her daughter is? Probably since she is. Man it's weird that she isn't talking about this. I managed to pull a couple of my parlor tricks out of the bag and identify odd grapes or pinpoint a winemaking practice by smelling a wine, blind to any details, it's an awesome occurrence when it happens and makes some of the really influential people take note. That's how I got the Berlin gig in the first place! So note to self, stop freaking out! 

The time in Berlin went far too fast. It's a city you want to spend hours absorbing, exploring each spot with no hurry. It reminded me of the West Coast of the USA, a casual, relaxed glide to the happenings of each day. The LGBTQ+ community filled the streets as Pride week unfolded and the sweet smell of happiness filled every atom of my body as I saw my daughter smile in a way I've never seen before. Berlin, thank you.

* The bravery and courage, the transformation from sullen and angry into happy and delightful have been what guide us through this journey. I'm not going into details here, because it isn't necessary. This is a beautiful young person that doesn't need to be poked and prodded for entertainment. We ask that you love and support our family, if it is uncomfortable for you, then please keep it to yourself. I am fiercely protective of her, so if you do have questions, educate yourself on what it means to be trans. Here are a couple good articles:

The Difference Between Being Transgender and Doing Drag

Transgender Children & Youth: Understanding the Basics

And as always, no matter what is happening in your world, Wine First! It'll make you feel better.

Fly Me Away

How do I keep finding myself in scheisse situations?!? Oh right, it sucks to fly anymore and that seems to be all I'm ever doing.
This post is brought to you by the Paris airport where I have been stuck for 10 hours after previously being stuck in Salt Lake City airport for 8 hours. With jet lag.

Do you remember that song Meg Ryan sang in "French Kiss" the movie? 'I hate Paris in the Spring time, I hate Paris in the Fall...' ya, that is me right now. Sweltering in their insanely hot waiting area, with a bird circling nearby getting ready to scheisse on my head. How the hell did the bird get in here anyway? Even the bird can't fly out of this stupid airport. Want to escape the heat? Sure, go shopping at Hermes or Burberry or spend $1000 on a glass of wine at the posh bar where they best the "Russian Face" with an exaggerated frown and annoyed eye roll. I mean at least Russian Face was accompanied with a hearty chuckle and friendly exchange. Can you tell I'm sour? I probably fit in.

Denim (my kiddo) and I opt for a French Cafe that is a bit more reasonable and a hell of a lot more comfortable in order to angerly type out our gripe on our computers; my kiddo is a writer and likes to channel any experience into novels. My 1st vent is to Delta Airlines who has jacked us out of a full day of our vacation by trapping us at the Salt Lake City Airport and then at Paris. They seriously do not care about this by-the-way, just in case you were thinking I was over reacting, each of the 20,000 employees I have now pleaded with has smiled that I've-been-trained-to-make-this-face-but-don't-care look. Nothing makes me crazier than poor customer care, that is probably why I try so hard with our business to right a situation. I mean I KNOW it isn't that specific person's fault that the plane needed a part or weather made them cancel a flight, but if you look me in the eye and swear you have us taken care of, seats are booked, and then they are not, we are screwed and you are nonchalant about it, well... I can't be held responsible for my combustion. 

OK, I'm taking a deep breath and getting a grip. I've managed to get a hold of my husband who is camping in the Osarks for his large family reunion and not on our trip to hell. I cried my sad song out to him, probably sounding insane, but his calm understanding soothed my nerves and he assured me that this is just about past me and we are about to start the fun. I certainly hope so. After a glass of Rose and the start of a white wine (slight aside, it is wonderful how they have lovely wines at the airport in Paris) I wonder where my parents are, our co-travelers, who we left in the heat of the waiting area, I wonder if they were too scared to join us as my red eyes flared in exhaustion and furry. I hope they haven't died in their chairs having fallen asleep, unable to seek out water, too overwhelmed to save themselves. What? They are getting older... and I can be scary. I wonder if I should go look for them. I wonder if I leave this protected nook if I will break the spell and the hell of this scheisse situation will flood back around me. Ya, better to stay put and have more wine. They are probably fine. And at least if I'm "fuzzy" feeling I can laugh when they inevitably tell me the last flight of the day to Berlin is delayed...and then cancelled.

The Tempest

I think I am depressed. My stress load has launched into atmospheric levels and there is not enough wine on the planet to bring it back down. Each morning I watch as my husband slips out of bed, heading off to work earlier and earlier to battle the huge project list he has. And I lay there, having already been up for hours thinking about all the issues at hand; fighting with the rental car company that charged us $3000 extra, remembering that I haven't staffed a big event coming up, wondering what to pack for my upcoming trip to Berlin, worrying that my kiddo may be taking on too much as he enters high school with additional college classes... I could get up and start tackling said issues, but a melancholy malaise has drifted over me. Instead I lay in the dark room and try to stretch the debilitating cramp that has setup camp in my neck and shoulder.

I finally pull myself from the covers and try to motivate, the constant ding of my phone downloading emails and texts can no longer be ignored. I slunk to the bathroom and see my reflection in the mirror, it mimics my emotions. I'm trying to grow out my hair so at this stage it stands straight up in a wild Troll Doll of my youth style, having been too lazy to remove my makeup the night before, I now have black circles under my eyes... not that the bags under my eyes would look any better had I washed it off. I'm getting older and my face shows it. My favorite sleep shirt, a thin blue and white striped baggy thing has ripped down the sleeve in the night, clearly it could not sustain the tension as I heaved my lard ass over in bed. What a bummer.

My husband has made coffee and cleaned up the kitchen before he left for work, man I love that guy. I sit on the sofa and sip my lukewarm coffee, I'm too lazy to even heat it, and start looking over work messages. There is nothing that is an emergency so I allow myself a few moments to consider working out. Maybe a run? OK too out of shape for that, but I could walk? Too hot already, but I could work on the tap routine from the tap class I haven't managed to make it to in far too long, or at least stretch, I really need to stretch. None of that happens though. Instead my phone spastically dings, rings and chimes as it tries to notify me of all the ways people are needing to get a hold of me all at once. I guess you could say I was literally saved by the bell from working out.

The day slips into evening and my teenager emerges from his room, only the 3rd time I've glimpsed him today, and he clearly doesn't want to chat. I watch him disappear back into his lair, which looks more like a library than a bedroom at this point and I think how lovely it must be to simply read books and take naps all day, I love that he gets to indulge in this kind of luxury this summer. I can't help but wish I could keep him safe in a protected parallel universe where that's all he would ever have to think about.

My husband arrives home beat from the long day and I haven't even managed to shower yet, my hair still a crazed mess and my ripped shirt still on. He seems to understand where I'm at and pours us both a glass of wine. I reluctantly put away my computer, the never ending list of projects still beckoning, and stretch my legs over his lap. He asks about my day and I give updates on all the varied projects, the hold ups and the catastrophes. Then I ask about his day, he tells me funny stories from podcasts he heard while they continued building the new winery storage room or the gossip from around town as he and the guys swapped stories while bottling a new wine. It is soothing and the wine eases my shoulders to relax.

I finally shower and throw my shirt away. My husband has fallen asleep on the sofa as the golden setting sun slips behind the mountain. I feel a deep loneliness as I let the dark waters of my emotional tempest rise. It has been a very difficult 2 years, really 4, too many horrific challenges, changes and losses to name, but sitting in the now darkened room the sinister thoughts come in.

My husband startles awake and catches me by surprise, "what's wrong?" he asks, evidently my eyes told my thoughts. 'Nothing' I reply, how do you rehash all the details of the demons scratching at the door when we are both so exhausted? Instead I curl into the crook of his arm, he knows all my struggles. He kisses my head and gives me a understanding squeeze, pulling me closer. "Would you like some more wine?" yes, he knows me well.

*this blog is brought to you by yes-I-have-a-therapist and no-I'm-not-suicidal  

Who's Crazy? I'm Crazy? You're Crazy!

I woke up this morning with the taste of Gin still on my lips. Who thought it would be a good idea after a couple glasses of wine to switch to a martini? That would be my winemaker husband and Gin enthusiast. He is clearly a wild and crazy man. Needless to say, at 4:00pm today I needed a crisp, cold, dry Riesling and a break from the amount of projects we are slammed with. Our busy season has me dizzy (or is that left over from the Gin?), but each day I try to tackle the ever growing list. I'm exhausted (also a possible result from the Gin). 

After a couple weeks back from Central Europe, I'm starting to get my land legs back, so to speak. Well, kinda. Two months away has lead to a pile of projects that is daunting and having the willpower to clean the house, work and lose weight just doesn't seem to be in my grasp. Instead I am sipping wine and looking at the mess while I chat with you fine people.

OK, enough chit chat, lets get down to the update! Things around here just get crazier by they day. My amazing son (age 13) has finished writing his first fiction book (previously he published "How Relative is Relativity" a guide to Quantum Physics, available on Amazon) and we are now shopping for a publisher for this horror futuristic dystopia. I too am working on a book for wine pairing with a twist, juggling article requests and now running off to Berlin at the end of July. Oh yes and I'm managing staff, events and I'm married so the crazy train has definitely left the station.

Shoving Berlin in right before crush starts in August is absolutely insane, but when you are invited to one of the best, most prestigious International Wine Competitions in the world, one that people sit on the waiting list for years to be invited to judge at... you make it happen. I am absolutely honored and so excited! Even if it does drive me straight to crazy town, it will be an amazing experience. 

The scary part is I'm going back to the land of amazing cakes and "when you are thirsty, drink beer" mentality that my larger than life physique seriously can not have any of. I've got to buckle down here and make a drastic change. I must loose weight NOW. Dare I say it? Should I venture to say the most terrifying word I know? Should I start RUNNING again? (insert horror movie screams here)

Those new to this blog may not know my history, but "Fueled by Vivac" used to be my blog where I voiced my hatred for running as I trained for various races. I know I am a sick sick person. Clearly if I am even thinking of running again, I have lost my mind. 

Oh look, my hand is shaking just thinking about running. I better pour more wine to calm my nerves.

Cheers and remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!

The Storybook of Czech Republic

Where has the time gone?!? So much has happened, there are so many stories to tell and yet no time to get them typed up! Let's see, since my last post, I have literally eaten my weight in cake. It is like nothing I have ever seen before, cake everywhere and they are literal works of art begging you to try just one bite, like the wicked Queen tempting Snow White. I have discovered new wines, grapes and winemakers with incredible gifts for the craft that have us drinking from the time we wake till we fall into bed, perhaps a part of the ever growing waistline and that dreamy feeling I'm sporting. We have explored some of the best kept secrets of Central Europe and it only seems to become more elusive, more curious and more wonderful.

One thing that has happened is that I went to yet another International Wine Competition, this one tucked away in the suede brown and mossy green hills of Moravia, Czech Republic. Initially I got the feeling this would be a more reserved group, the way they eyed me strangely, wondering how an American had infiltrated their private clan. Then after a long day judging (where people in business suits spit into buckets for hours on end) the group blossomed under the dazzle of wine and beer into a frolicking group of merry folk shedding the formal attire and attitudes for loud, impassioned Czech folk songs and American Classic Country. Without a word in common, my husband and I bonded with these people, singing Johnny Cash hits, the lyrics in different languages, clashing together in triumphant drunken enthusiasm; it was glorious. The next day, back in formal wear, we started the judging with a perfect glass of sparkling wine and the emotional singing of a Czech favorite, it felt like I'd become a part of a tribe and the warmth made me love the Czech people deeply. It was as if I had found a secret passage to a world closed off to the typical traveler. Not that they don't welcome you normally, but I knew something special had taken place and my husband's epic hangover texts from bed proved he had felt it too.

Three days later I awoke cuddled in a comfy bed, I stretched and pulled the sleep mask from my eyes. No Competition judging or winery tour today meant I could sleep in, officially a day off. The room was filled with a bright light and birds chirped merrily outside. I could hear blue before my eyes could adjust to see it. Where was I? This trip has been so fast and furious as we were swept from place to place, winery to winery, wine competition to wine competition, that I felt like the entire thing was a foggy dream coming back to me only in pieces. Now I was waking up in the cheery Hamlet of Hrusice, Czech Republic, where my Fairy Godfather lives; the man responsible for all my "wine fortune".

This tiny tiny town outside of Prague, where the next stretch of lucid dreaming would take place, prides itself on the work of a children's book author who based his stories on the naughty escapades of a black cat called Mikesh. The author, Josef Lada (LOL here EVERYONE knows Josef!)  included details of the townspeople and found popularity on a nationwide stage so much so that the town became a museum dedicated to him and now, decades later, people can journey there to find the streets their grandparents roamed, the pubs they gathered in or the bridge they met at...all described in these delightful tales. Monuments stand at each point of interest, a eternal black cat statue or image there to solidify that this is a authentic point of origin for the story...which makes this story perfect town almost too much to soak in. We found ourselves at one of these little pubs with my Fairy Godfather, his laugh like the rich incandescence of a Sauternes wine,  who was outlining the next phase of our magical trip. Like magic, the beautiful young barmaid, almost a Disney Princess with her big bright eyes, long flowing blonde hair and porcelain skin, appeared with fists full of rich lager at the exact time I'd have sucked down the final sip in my giant mug. Somehow my Godfather orchestrated this, but how, I'm not sure. The beer, was of course, called Mikesh.

The day became evening and the air smelled of fragrant flowers. We lazily meandered the streets home and prepared ourselves for the journey to Prague the next day. And so days slipped by like this, falling into new towns and memories of past ones mingling together. Prague would intensify this feeling even more as its impeccably preserved ornate facades, tiny cobblestone streets and utter perfection would encircled us, pulling us into a world far far away... that is until  a group of drunken bachelor or bachelorette parties would rudely pop the magic bubble we were in. 

Curiouser and Curiouser

It doesn't seem right to write a blog called "Wine First' without a glass of wine within my reach, but then it is all these glasses that have been within my reach that keeps delaying my ability to write the damn posts! #WinePeopleProblems

I am now in Slovakia. Most people don't even realize that Czech Republic and Slovakia are two separate and very different countries at this point, but they are and I am finding them intriguing to discover. Our trip started off with a stop in Slovakia at Chateau Bela and has circled around to find us back in this strange, magical, interesting place. I don't really know how to explain the feeling here, it is far more than just the things you see and so a photo doesn't do it justice. It's like the feeling of deja-vu, once you have that feeling, you know it, but how do you adequately describe it? As a tall, white, bleach blonde (shhh don't tell my hair, it thinks it was born that way), very tattooed lady ... I am used to standing out when we travel to far off lands, but here, in Central Europe, everyone looks like me. Well not EVERYONE, clearly some are men and some are children; the only difference is the language. For some reason this has a level to the experience that is new and complex while we weave our way around these deeply old and storied places. It is familiar and bizarrely foreign at the same time.

After my trip to NY for a wine competition, I rejoined my son, husband and my in-laws in Budapest (man I love that city!) and headed out for a stint in Bratislava, Slovakia. Perhaps it is the jet lag, but I feel immensely tired. Maybe it is the 6 bottles of wine a day I consume. Who can tell?!? But it suddenly felt like too much to move on to another new city, so when my in-laws left to head to Langmann Winery in Austria, this is where we spent 3 incredible days with Stefan Langmann and his wildly fantastic wines a few weeks back, we moved closer to the charming old city center. As a side note: honestly I have lost all sense of time and relativity so who knows when we were at Langmann, BUT it was 3 days and it was incredible. Also while judging the Great American International back in NY his wines had been entered (we judges get to see them after they have been judged and taste them openly) and I had a school girl moment of excitement shrieking as I poured wine in expectant glasses, it did not disappoint. Anyway, back to Bratislava... what was I saying? Oh my glass is empty, let me pour more of this (please start imagining a fabulous commercial voice) epic Frankovka Modra red wine from Matysak Winery located right outside the city. 

Oh yes, I was explaining this strange out of body experience. Being 8 hours ahead of the time at home, makes for feeling disconnected, work projects and events I try to continue to oversee are coming back to me in fragments and the idea of being at home actually makes my skin crawl. I mean how weird is that?!!! I love my home and my job and my life in Northern NM, but somehow this part of the world has dazzled me with a spell I fall deeper into daily. From this delightfully strange city, we head to my final International Wine Competition in Czech Republic and start to wind down to our departure at the end of the month. I can't wait to explore another country (we spent only a short time dipping our toe in for a previous competition, Grand Prix Vinnex) and roam around Prague, but I also feel myself pulling back, like a child unwilling to go to bed, and I have to ask why I feel so attached to this part of the world. Like Alice, it is 'curiouser and curiouser!' and I do wonder who I will be at the end of this journey. 

Whoa, that got serious didn't it? I clearly need more wine. 

Fly Me Away

International Wine Competitions are an interesting gig. I am returning to Budapest after being flown to NY for a competition and am writing this from the Atlanta airport (wrote a blog from the NY airport for Vivac Winery this morning) with a crappy glass of Pinot Noir next to me. Those that have been reading both the Vivac blog "Fueled by Vivac Winery" and this one... wink wink. Also, who doesn't love the sound of 'I'm flying from NY to Budapest'?!? Feeling like I should see Tom Cruise jump out of a window and save someone with lots of flare and broken glass just typing that.

I have a long history of teaching wine classes and writing for various publications, but the wine judging is relatively new to this Sommelier. Cue some annoying pretentious music, even I had to gag with that last comment. My 1st International Competition I was down right scared. For some reason, even though I have been a wine buyer, a co-owner of Vivac Winery, an Executive Somm with several Master intensives completed, and know I have a damn good gift for this...I am also my own worst critic and have terrible self talk. Again, cue the shut-up-about-your-credentials music, I had visions of panic dance through my head where a wine flight would be laid out before me and as the discussion would begin to rate the wine, I'd spaz and wouldn't be able to identify anything in the glass. Anyone not in the industry will think this sounds like an absurd stress , but for an uber wine geek and in the presence of uber wine geek greatness, you really don't want an epic fail like that. Luckily that did not happen. In fact after my 1st day of that competition, I'd impressed the veteran judges so much that at the lunch the following day, they were bringing me wines to taste and talk about. It was pretty cool. And then flash forward to me sitting here drinking a terrible glass of wine with horrible combo jet lag...it isn't all fancy and awesome, believe me. OK, never mind, it is totally as cool as your think it is.

There is a strange unknown future of it however that does make it seem fragile. This society of judges seems to be somewhat a fraternity of networking and vetting. When my name is suggested for a competition, my resume is then submitted and then the vetting process begins and boy are they thorough! Only after completing my first two European International Competitions did I discovered just how intensely they vet you. Before hand I was somewhat blissfully unaware, now, as I look to other competitions in fun locales, I am nervous again. How do you get in when they have serious famous wine geeks participating? It was during a conversation with one of my fellow judges who has been invited to and then invited back to, these star competitions, that he pointed out that I have, in only one year, been to a top NY competition now twice, 3 excellent ones in Central Europe and 1 great one in Texas... as he put it "Michele, you are doing amazingly well, this is extremely impressive to have accomplished in only one year". I have to say, I did need the feedback. I tend to be a bit obsessive. I may have made my friends and family spit their wine with that last comment, I may be a bit more than a bit.

As I head back to Europe to complete yet another International Competition, I try to have perspective. The incredible, prestigious competitions I have had the incredible luck to be able to judge have led to amazing new friendships, a chance to  visit strange and beautiful new destinations and a new world form around me. Of course with epic jet lag, this does still seem like a movie, a fantasy or dream liable to vanish with the flutter of my eyelids. I just hope I don't look down and realize I am naked sitting at this bar.