69

No, you pervs, this is the number of hours I've worked this week! I haven't (yet) had any time for fun the past few weeks. I have, however, survived three weeks of work and was fortunate enough to score the day shift. I don't think I would have lasted long working 12 hours night shifts during the cold, Kiwi nights.

I showed up on the first day of work to a group of ALL MEN standing around in a circle. Yes, please! I also learned that wearing my beloved lipstick to work wasn't necessary. If you want to try to feel unattractive, throw on some white gummies (rubber boots), old pants that are too big so they fall off your ass when they are soaked with water, juice, yeast and grape skins AND you smell like a compost pile. That pretty much sums me up on a daily basis! I only brought two pairs of work pants, so they each have to last me three days. And, boy, let me tell you, they are about ready to walk right off me and straight into the washing machine by the end of 36 hours on this bod.

There are only two girls on each shift, so I work with a wonderful girl from Chile. We are mainly in charge of inoculations and additions. The inoculations might have to be my favorite thing. It is a very precise process and is, after all, what turns boring grape juice into wine! Some of the yeasts are super active and create a wild, foamy mess that spews out over the sides of the tubs. The whole process isn't supposed to take more than one hour, but you also don't want to shock them with the cold juice and kill them. You have to slowly add the juice from the tank you are inoculating and lower the temperature to within 5-7 degrees of the tank itself. Most tanks are about 18 degrees, but you start off by adding the yeast to 40 degree water, just to get them acclimated. I had one small job that I was told would only take a "couple of buckets", but by the time I got the temperature down, I ended up using eleven!

[The RDV (Rotary Drum Vacuum) that sucks the juice out of the lees]

There is a pretty strict beer fine policy at work. Meaning, if you fuck up and burn out a pump, spill lots of grapes/juice/wine, or any other minute thing that might get us all a free beer after a 12 hours shift, you'll surely be fined. I thought that I was going to be OK and not owe a "box of piss" for the whole vintage until yesterday. I was given the simple tasks of adding some yeast nutrients to an already fermenting tank. I was carrying on about my business, adding the food to my little yeasties, when all of a sudden a god damn volcano erupted from the tank! There was foam and juice spewing out everywhere! I almost had a heart attack because I had no idea why this was happening and just stood there frozen hoping Mt. Fucking Vesuvius would settle back down so I could hose off the tank and pretend nothing happened. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately for me, people came running over with pumps and 3-inch hoses in hand ready to rectify my disaster. After I closed the lid on the eruption and it settled back down, it took me at least two hours to get my heart rate back to normal!

[Malcolm keeping the presses running and juice flowing into the proper tank]

At this point, vintage is about 3/4 complete, with close to 8,000 tons of grapes pressed. We all might start to get two days off a week, then go down to more normal working hours! I can't remember what life is like without work consuming it, but I must say I don't really mind. The days go by unbelievably quickly and we have a chef at work I want to bring back to Seattle with me. She's amazing! I don't think I've ever been fed so well in my life. I am ready for the millions of cuts on my hands to heal, however. Because my hands are constantly wet at work and in so many different powders, yeasts and other drying ingredients the scrapes I have are starting to heal while they are still open. So, basically it looks like I have little mini vaginas all over my hands! Awesome.

[All of the tools, valves and connections to keep the place running!]

At Home in Blenheim

Now that I officially have a place to unpack my bags and no longer have to roll around a massive duffel bag, carry a backpack full of miscellaneous toiletries and booze and balance a few other sacks full of food, shoes, maps and a neck pillow, I AM HOME! Or at least I'd like to call it that for now (Seattle, you will always be my real home).

I scored a sweet living situation staying with the head winemaker and her boyfriend. He does the marketing and sales side, while she makes fabulous wines. I can't wait to pick their brains about both of their jobs, but I don't want to seem too annoying right from the get-go. Back at the lovely South Seattle Community College I've been leaning towards a certificate in Marketing and Sales because I've decided there are too many ways to fuck up a good wine. But, I'm hoping my mind might be changed while I'm here, or I'll be even more excited about the marketing side of things.

Either way, I've now had almost a week in this wee little town, but still find myself discovering new places. My current home away from home is the Blenheim Library. My mom works at a library and I get to hear about all the crazies that come in. Well, mom, they're here too! During the past few days I've seen or heard the following:

• Crazy man with tiny shorts talking to a puzzle box.
• Crazy woman shout, "Shut up Charlie or I'll shoot ya!" (No one else seemed alarmed so I pretended not to be either).
• Grown hippie man reading Nancy Drew.
• Old man on motorized cart the size of a small car (I lost track of how many tables, chairs and people had to move for him to get around corners). I'm pretty sure this thing could go off-roading!

Alas, the Internet connection is free and relatively fast. Sometimes.

My new home is only a 15 minute walk to the center of town, which is great. I was the first of three people (two other English dudes will also be my roommates) to arrive so got the best bedroom:

This kitchen isn't too shabby either, and fully stocked with great kitchen gadgets, my favorite!

Also, check out the local coffee cart. Starbucks, eat your heart out!

Think I might have to head there later and get me another flat white! Until then, I'm hoping for some more library entertainment.

Windy Wellington and Beyond

We made it to the capitol of New Zealand! My main man, Holden, and I held up just fine for the 4-5 hour drive from Napier to Wellington. Of course we arrived right during rush hour traffic and got lost in the middle of the city, so had to pull over for a beer to mend our weary heads. [Cool fountain in Napier]

The rest of our time in Wellington was spent walking all over the windy city looking at all of the cool shops, cafes, museums and art! The city is known for arts and theater and is also the home of Peter Jackson, for you Lord of the Ring nerds out there. Lucky for us, most of the museums were free (thank God) so we spent one morning/afternoon hopping in and out of the wind. We also made it to a wonderful play called The Walworth Farce, which was laugh out loud funny. For those of you who know me, this is quite a feat as I am a tough customer when it comes to comedy.

After three nights in Wellington we boarded the Interislander ferry for the South Island! It is a massive ferry that holds over 900 people and even has a movie theater! The ride was just about 3 hours and fortunately not too choppy like it was the day before. (I was certainly glad to not have to use the barf bags provided!) The North and South Islands are much closer than I imagined because you can actually see them both when you are out in the middle of the Cook's Straight. [View from the ferry, closing in on Picton - South Island]

Once we landed in Picton we were only a two hour bus ride to Nelson. Nelson battles Blenheim in being New Zealand's sunniest city. Of course, I'm rooting for Blenheim to win, but we didn't mind soaking up the sun while we were there. We also soaked up lots of calories from the amazing restaurants that lined the streets. At Morrison St. Cafe it was hard to decide what to get, but I went for the coconut bread with grilled bananas and lime sauce. I felt the cellulite growing on my thighs.I also hiked up to the Center of New Zealand and fell down a small hill taking a short cut on my way back. My favorite white fleece didn't fair too well, but my fatty breakfast did help pad my ass as I screamed down the hill.

Our next, and final stop...Blenheim!!!

Holden

After sadly realizing the Rent-a-Dent didn't have any cars available (I secretly wanted to hot rod around in a beater because I figured I would at least be adding a dent or two to it myself) we landed a little, tiny Holden Barina. I was glad it was compact, but also a little worried that it wouldn't fit my massive duffle. Luckily, it fits just perfectly in the back seat (which has now become my dressing room). We've also driven past heaps of hitchhikers, but can't pick them up because there is simply no room. Poor "Holden", as we've aptly named him, was later referred to as a "suppository" by our B&B owner, Mark, in Hahei.

Later that night, as my mom and I polished off a lovely bottle of wine on the deck of Mark's B&B, he joined us for a beer, or two, or ... you get the idea. He then invited us in for dinner at his place, which we could hardly refuse because the prices here are quite steep. Little did he/we know, we'd end this "dinner" at 1 am completely staggering drunk. We brought with us a bottle of bubbly, but after that was finished, Mark opened up another bottle of some horrid strawberry bubbles. Once that was done I vaguely remember ending the night with some more beer and a Bailey's night cap.

Throughout the night we tried to convince Mark to sign a "trade agreement" for his B&B and my mom's lovely home in Snohomish for 3 months out of the year. The only problem being, Mark wasn't too keen on trading in his winter months for ours and I can't imagine spending any time in Hahei (population 250 maybe) when the sun isn't shining. Needless to say, the agreement was never signed, but we did play a few rounds of "knots and crosses" (that's tic-tack-toe to you) and ended the night with some good, old fashion Indian Leg Wrestling. Might I just add that I won 2 rounds (out of at least 10) and woke up with swollen bruising.

I also woke up to this, while my poor mother woke up to the inside of the toilet bowl. Unfortunately for her, we had a very long and WINDY drive ahead of us. Driving out of Hahei and the Coromandel Pennisula has the most curves and tiniest roads I have ever seen (keep in mind, I used to have to drive a mini van around Italy). At first I felt like a race car driver turning my whole body into the curves, but then got really annoyed with the thrashing of my duffle and everything else rolling around in Holden. Not to mention, the sight of my mom turning green. We only had to pull over twice for her to either chuck on the side of the road on her hands and knees, or into a lovely little paper cup she held onto for dear life. Seems like she should have been the one driving, and me wretching, doesn't it?

After a few hours driving, we ended up in Tauranga. I wasn't terribly impressed because all I saw was the inside of our smelly motel room thanks to my mom needing a nap, and then went out to dinner and pretty much called it a day. The next day, however, we got to see a great modern art installation being set-up (my favorite so far), had a nice lunch complete with trashy magazines and no talking. From there, we headed out to see Mt. Manganui and went for a small trek to see some great views of the Bay of Plenty and get up close and personal with the local sheep.

Jandals and Togs

I've been wearing a lot of jandals (sandals) and togs (swim suits) lately as my mom and I have soaked our way through a few of Rotarua's thermal baths. The city, and half of New Zealand for that matter, lies on a very thin crust with lots of volcanic activity (in case you didn't already know that). Rotarua, therefore, smells like sulphur and has random holes that spew steaming hot water and mud. Why would you want to go there, you ask? Well, because you can drive from spa to spa and soak in the lovely mineral or mud baths. There are brochures all over town of naked women being painted (literally with a paint brush) with mud.
After winding our way out of Rotarua, we were headed to Taupo. Taupo is known for either extreme sports or fishing for trout, the latter of which I have absolutely no interest in. Instead, my mom decided to book us on a Rapids Jet boat that goes screaming down the river at over 60 mph. This may not seem like much, but when you turn corners and the wind collapses one nostril so you feel like you are having an asthma attack, it is fast! You also go off jumps and land sideways so water not only finds its way down your ass crack and tit crack, it nearly deafens you. My mom claims that we went so fast she tore off a retina, but she seems to be doing just fine. And we both can hear, so we're happy!

After our adventures in Taupo, we were off to Napier. Napier was destroyed by an earthquake in 1931 and rebuilt as a great art deco city on the water (Hawke Bay). It also just so happens to be in wine country! Oh darn.

We strolled the streets to see some of the cool buildings and art, then headed out to the vineyards. Since I have been driving my mom around, or "Miss Daisy" as I like to call her, it was her turn to drive me around the wineries. We only managed to hit up four wineries, but some had up to 15 tastings! On the way home we managed to get lost about five times, crash into one curb and go into the wrong lane only once. Not too bad if you ask me!

Kia Ora

Welcome to New Zealand!

I must say the whole travel time went by rather quickly. I also have to admit that I don't mind a lengthy flight because you only really have the excuse to sit on your ass for a 12 hours plus period when you are either extremely obese, about to give birth, or sitting at home with pneumonia (I experienced the ladder early this Fall and wanted to die). I only had the stamina to watch two movies and was, of course, awake for every meal.

My mom and I arrived at 4:30 am and were pleasantly surprised by the ease of customs, baggage and getting a shuttle into town (we had a miserable experience with the same in Vietnam a few years back and haven't quite recovered). After finding out that we couldn't officially check in to our room until 3 pm (may I remind you that it is not yet 6 am) we used the hotel gym bathroom to freshen up and then headed out on our dirty, jet-legged way.

My mom spent some time in Auckland five years back so I was ready for her to be my tour guide, not quite realizing that she has the worst sense of direction in the world. After staggering through the dark streets of Auckland and watching the sunrise to Friday's business men and women, we made our way to the waterfront to have breakfast and mapped out the days plans. We ended up on a ferry to Devonport, where my mom pointed out every single shop, side walk, coffee shop and bathroom she had ever visited. We also made our way to the top of the Sky Tower and watched people jump off. I think the Space Needle needs to get with the program!

The rest of our time so far has been spent walking all over Auckland, Parnell, The Domain, listening to great music (hippies included), drinking flat whites (like a latte but frothier and better, if you ask me) and waiting for The Link buses. I think I've got the city down at this point and am ready to tackle driving on the wrong side of the road tomorrow. We are headed for the Coromandel Pennisula and hoping to score a sweet ride from one of the local rental car agencies. We've been too busy trying the Kiwi beer and wine to make reservations, so tomorrow morning should be interesting. The local Rent-a-Dent is looking promising, however. We may need a 1987 Dodge Caravan to get my giant duffle bag from here all the way down to Wellington.

WTF, I'm really blogging?

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm going to blog while I'm off picking grapes in Blenheim, New Zealand. At first I laughed at the question. Then I half laughed, half considered it. Then I wondered what the hell I'd write about because I plan on A) doing nothing but pick grapes B) being drunk C) courting hot Kiwi men. Where would I find the time to write? And how much can one really write about grape picking? Alas, the title for the blog came to me after a day of wine tasting in Woodinville, so I thought I should at least hop on and make sure no one already claimed the brilliant domain.

I'll be working at Yealand's Estate, which is a super sustainable winery. There are even these baby doll sheep that eat the grass between the rows of grapes, but don't eat the grapes themselves. How cute is that?! I can't wait to get my hands on one.