Tuesday dawns beautifully mixed – partly cloudy, sunny, whatever. Gorgeous. I get to the winery by 8. Andrea, the new “new guy” – he’s a student at the oenological school in Alba – is scooping out pomace when I arrive (let’s call him “Andrea #2”). How excellent. Though he may “know” more, I’ve been here longer. Nyah nyah nyah. He’s wearing an Eels t-shirt and I immediately like him.
Last night I stayed until almost 8 getting the pallets ready for the container for the US. 20 pallets – shrinkwrapped, inventoried, moved – and I have blisters on the sides of my fingers from the rolls of shrinkwrap plastic as I ran around the pallets – ouch. I get home at 8.15, shower and crawl into bed. A few text messages, 15 pages of the new novel – “Atmospheric Disturbances” by Rivka Galchen, which is really, really disturbing, to say the least, but also touching and beautifully sad – and I am out like a light. I’ve been dreaming regularly for the last week to ten days – which is a really great thing. I rarely dream, so 10 days of dreams is … like … wow, man. Strange and powerful stuff. I dream of a leaky roof, and friends, and driving in a really strange car.
Tuesday, the truck didn’t arrive until 11.30 – though it was supposed to be here at 8. Until then, there is a lot of puttering around – loads of things being labeled and prepped for shipment right now. As each order comes in, the unlabeled bottles are brought up from the cellar, labeled and packed for shipment (each country and importer has different back label requirements, and this way the labels are clean when they are shipped out). We prepare shipments for Liechtenstein, Austria, Switzerland and Germany. We sweep. We stack picking crates (cassetti) in preparation for the next day. We clean. We press. We sweep some more. We drink coffee. Luca and Andrea tell me bawdy jokes, nudging me constantly to see if I’m following their impossibly fast Italian. We climb into dusty tanks and hose them down with hot water. (Pic: Luca setting up the labeling machine)
When the truck finally arrives and 11.30, there is a frenzy of activity. Employees are supposed to be able to take a lunch break at noon, so we bust ass – Luciano and Andrea in the truck, Andrea #2 and I moving pallets and lifting them up. We load 20 pallets in 40 minutes. Andrea and Luciano are cursing continuously as they manhandle the huge pallets (40 cases on each) inside the truck. (Aside: Luciano is teaching me the finer points of Italian cussing. Things pertaining to winemaking … heck, I can look those up in any number of reference books. Cusswords – that’s the REAL edjamacation goin’ on here.) (Second aside, relating to the first: I have this little notebook that I take with me everywhere, jotting away, and Luciano makes sure I write down EXACTLY all the cusswords that come out of his mouth. Ever since I wrote down the first cussword in my notebook, which was, incidentally, “porca puttana,” or “ugly whore,” Luciano has been adamant that I take out the notebook and write down exactly what he is saying whenever he begins swearing like a drunken sailor. (Aside to the second aside: This is not at all to say that Luciano is ever anything other than completely charming – he’s a grinning, mischievous little boy when describing swearing. Really, it’s very cute.) Every time he cusses, he pantomimes pulling out the notebook and writing in it. “Eh, Emich, eh????” (He calls me “Emich” or “Emmi” now, short for Emilio, my middle name.) “Emich, eh, eh, porca puttana, eh? Boh!” Also, please note that the “porca puttana” part comes out as “pooooorka puhhhtaaaaaaahnaaaaaaaaaah”) (OK, enough asides, already.)
After running 20 pallets out to the truck – I am using the pallet jack, running things by hand, while Andrea #2 has the forklift to raise the wine up to the truck - I am wiped out and the rest of the day is thankfully less physically brutal as I move a shitload of wine – in barrels. Remember that picture of Andrea moving the barrels with the “muletto” (mule) or electric forklift? Right. This time, it’s me doing the moving on many of these and I realize, that at 500 liters each, a tonneaux (the barrel size that they use) represents about 660 bottles of wine. For the Cannubi Boschis Barolo, that’s roughly $100 Gs of wine at street value per barrel. Holy snot. Andrea and I move almost 40 barrels. And they let the newbie wine geek move these? Even let him lift the tonneaux up to the second level of stacked barrels? Holy snot, indeed.
Late afternoon, the kids are playing in the cortile of the vineyard. This is truly a family vineyard – there are two nice apartments built above the offices and reception rooms. Luca, Rosella and Giacomo live in one, while Barbara and her family occupy the other (Luciano and Maria live in the village of Barolo three minutes away in the same apartment they have occupied for years). The kids see their grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins every day. I imagine this has its charms and drawbacks – for all parties. I grew up between New York and Switzerland and while neither way of living seems strange to me, nor do they seem completely normal, either. Now, I live far away from all my direct family, by choice. I’m not sure I would want to see them every day … Every morning, I see Alessia, Stefano and Giacomo come in and say hi to Luciano before they head off to school – this is really touching. He really loves his grandkids and nephew. Whatever, he’s doing, he puts it down for them. Maria, as well, is great with the kids, especially as Barbara is the business manager of the whole she-bang. There’s also a cat and the wacky pup Lila ...
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