Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Chapter 1
Beware the Dream
'I think this wine is like anageing dancer.Her moves are slow and supple.Then sheper forms
a pirouette just like she did when she was younger.'
Pierre-Jacques dipped the pipette into the wine-stained oak barrel, transferring tastes
swiftly to our outstretched glasses. We stood in the entrance to his cellar, a cave hewn out
of the chalky cliffs, captivated by the softening sun and his sensuous descriptions. The wine
was smooth and serene across my tongue before fresh raspberries twirled at the finish.
'The wines are grown. I am not a winemaker. I merely help the grapes' transformation.'
Pierre-Jacques, a compact man with dark curly hair and a twinkle in his eye, chronicled the
weather of the vintage, the monthly progress in the vineyard, the gentle shepherding of the
harvest. Something stirred in our blood. No longer was wine just wine, but a living liquid
bright with memory. We had caught a glimpse of the soul of winemaking and were smitten.
After that revelation, we had sought out artisanal wines from French vignerons, people
whose lives were expressed in what they bottled. Sean took night classes in wine. I took
French. We both dreamed.
Now I was leaning on the kitchen counter, staring at grey drizzle, grabbing a few moments
of peace between baby feeds and thinking back to our first visit to that French vineyard. I re-
flected on how our lives had developed since that fateful day. Every spare cent went into our
vineyard fund. We researched, studied and saved. I was an IT-strategy-consultant-turned-
early-stage-venture-capitalist and Sean, an investment writer for the asset management busi-
ness of a large bank. We were typical yuppies but with a long-term mission to change our
lives.
Then our first daughter Sophia was born. A malformation of her oesophagus led to five
hours of life-critical surgery at less than a day old. It was a time of extreme feeling: power-
ful love as a first-time mother, fear that she would be taken from us and desperate hope that
she would stay. For a year we thought of nothing but her health. She survived - more than
that, she glowed with vitality. With Sophia healed, our thoughts returned to a vineyard of
our own. We searched the Internet for our dream vineyard most evenings and weekends but
had found nothing.
