Red, red wine

My love of red wine began in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Weird but true. Before moving to Fort Wayne I was a White Zin type of girl or maybe some white wine mixed with a little lemon-lime pop, like 7-up. Not soda, pop! People still laugh at me for saying pop, but oh well.

So my friends in Indiana were television sales people. Sophisticated, nice cars, beautiful cars and great taste. I got to try all the best restaurants and learned to have a nice glass of red wine with my meal. Lovely. It always made my face hot and red and gave me a bit of a headache later, but it really does enhance a meal.

Then I moved to Italy. We lived in Pordenone, which is surrounded by vineyards. I didn't learn to speak Italian during my two years there, except, hello, thank you and a quarter liter of red wine please. The wine was less expensive than water, and about 1/2 the cost of pop. :)

I never got the headache, the hot flushed face; I never even felt the intoxication creeping up on me. It was just so lovely to have a red table wine with my pasta. Lovely. So I thought I would share my very favorite red wine story with you today. Since leaving Italy I haven't enjoyed a single glass of red wine. There I just asked for red wine and was provided with something wonderful to complement my meal. Here I go to the store and try everything and I don't like it at all. It all gives me a headache even the wine from Italy.

One of our favorite things to do in Italy was to go on volksmarches. These are typically German activities but where we lived North of Venice was a part of Austria off and on over the years so many of their customs are a mixture of Italian and German/Austrian. So every Sunday there was a volksmarch. We would go to the nearby town hosting the volksmarch and choose which route we would take, 5K, 12-14K or 20K - we always chose the 14K which is approx 7-8 miles give or take. The town hosting the Volkesmarch would have a route marked out and refreshment stands along the way. This was such a great way to tour a local town. The route took us past all the best views, churches, villas, streams, etc. It was always a lovely way to spend our Sunday mornings. Mandy was always less than trilled.

This particular Volkesmarch took place close to the home of my husband's boss. His wife spoke perfect Italian and they lived in a very small town out in the country. They also happened to live next door to a vineyard and to be friends with the owners. That day, as on all the days I partook of the red wine and cheese at the refreshment stands. Who needs water when there is wine. Nothing like a little dehydration to enhance the buzz. If you know me you know that I need a bit of a buzz to walk 7 miles, there are often hills and mountains on these walks. Basically a volkesmarch is loosely translated to People's march and a bunch of people get together for a walk and to socialize it is very lovely.

At the end of our walk at the last refreshment stand, we were the last people to arrive. Probably me to blame. So the person handing out the refreshments wants Jeff to take a glass of wine, he is the owner of the vineyard and probably didn't want to take it home and didn't want to throw it away. Jeff's Italian wasn't great and he was using the international symbol for driving, you know pretend steering wheel, to say he was driving and therefore couldn't drink. So our lovely refreshment stand guy, dumped out the water in a two liter bottle and filled it with wine to go. It was all warm from sitting in the beautiful sun.

Just then my husband's boss invited us over for a bbq. So we took our wine and sat in the sun and ate bbq hotdogs after a long and lovely walk. It was one of those days where the temperature is perfect. Where you can sit in the sun and feel the warmth on your face and not get too hot. One of those days with a slight breeze. Sitting in the country with friends, between a vineyard and the mountains. Exhausted from the walk, with friends and a lovely red wine buzz, Italian red wine, with no headache, no flushed face.

How will I ever be able to drink red wine again?