Yucky Tricks

A weekend or so ago, The Captain's mom, The Captain, and I went down to a family vineyard in the Dolenjska region where she's from. From what she told me, we were going down to have lunch and say hello to family members; she talked a LOT before we left but that was all the information she really gave. Off the back of that information, The Captain and I got dressed up smartly, loaded up the car, and left.



...so you can imagine how perturbed I was when we pulled up to the vineyard, got out of the car, and were handed buckets, scissors, and gloves. CapMama turned to us and was like "You guys have a change of clothes, right?" Steam blew out of my head and -- despite the fact that this happens all the time* -- it took everything I had to keep quiet and go with the flow.



I walked up the steep hill into the vineyard with my brand new ankle boots on, angered about the state of my new shoes and frightened I'd fall down the hill.



After leaning against a fence post for 15 minutes watching everyone else work, I finally decided to jump in and help pick some grapes. It was nasty work, as this year's mix of weather coupled with the neighboring vineyards bout with mold (the neighbour, who probably inherited the damn vineyard, refuses to come out and pick grapes anymore and just leaves them to rot year after year) meant that most of the grapes were either dried like raisins or totally moldy.



Our job was to knock away all the sour grapes and pick out the few decent looking ones. Messy, stinky, yucky work.



I ended up taking my shoes and socks off so I could get a grip on the ground and not slide down the hill.



It ended up being the best decision; though I did have to contend with pesky people walking past me every few minutes with admonishments and "concern" that I would catch cold (catching cold seems to be the worst fate that can befall you in this country, geez.)

Anyway, after an hour or two of this cruel punishment, at least I got a good meal (pictures to come)....and, of course, this little blog post.



*Slovenians have a bad habit of not giving you necessary information unless you explicity ask for it. Problem being that you don't know what you don't know. Frustration!