I offer today a few image from the wine and bikes tour. The first, taken on the way to the first winery, or "bodega" as they are called here. Bodegas to me previously meant the place to run in to pick up beer, or milk, or emergency dish soap. But here, it just means wine.
Other than syrah, malbec, and cab. sauv., it was possible to stop at olive oil production houses. Here, you can see Young hitting the bottle pretty hard. We learned two interesting facts here: the first, that most of the oil in olive oil comes out of the pit. Second, that you can tell that your extra virgin olive oil is the real stuff by putting it in the fridge. If it's legit, it will solidify into yellow goop, then melt clearish again when room temp. Facts are Great!
So, quick and humbling anecdote about the complication of foreign countries. Yesterday, I wanted to purchase two apples. My intentions clear and my heart pure, I went to the check out, and waited (other purchase included large CROPPERS p-nuts, the Best, and Young had selected something called "Pritty Lemon"
to drink). I present my apples, and the cashier explained that I would have to bag and weigh them back at the produce section. Okay. With seven people lined up for the single lane, I dashed to the weighing machine, and was stymied. My button choices were a keypad with numbers, and "F" a "G" probably a few other letters and some colored buttons. What?! I mashed the keypad and the paper roll spit out a few blank inches. Defeated, I replaced the apples and returned to the front. As the other customers gave me the evil eye, the cashier nicely offered to help me, but it was too late, for the apples and for my self-confidence. Sniff.
Anyway, I am not thwarted. Someday soon, apples will be mine.
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