Everytime I think of something profound to write, I resort to drinking something equally profound: red wine. It has been a passion, a love interest, a juice de force and even a poison. God knows how many years I have been caught under the spell of this fermented boisson. I wondered many a times if I would be called an addict because, I am in fact, addicted to wine. Red wine. Vino Tinto to say it with mucho gusto! I have come to embrace red wine with so much fervour and so much caress that I will not want to part with it. Sure there are instances where I have had to forego it (meditation & yoga camps, working on projects, WORK) but a glass on most nights keep me alive and rarin' to go...
My fave varieties are from the New World. I absolutely adore anything Chilean, S. African, NZ and Australian. Most recently I have come to enjoy the Malbecs of Argentina too! I am not going to pretend that I am a wine connoisseur, but I know how to distinguish good from bad. I am self-taught in the art of wine-tasting (books and liquour stores help) and I admittedly do love good wines. Not necessarily expensive, but good.
Being back in the West (travels in Europe and currently stationed in Canada) after my East (that is Japan), I have been spoiled by tasting New World variety galore. So... am wondering with my next assignment in the Middle East, will I still get to indulge, explore and ardently savour the Cab Sav drops? I am fervently hoping that Oman is not as dry as the rest of the Gulf nations... Inshallah as they (or I?) would say!
Only time will tell. I will soon discover if my vinto tinto glass will runneth over...
A Drinking Song (W.B. Yeats)
Wines comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

