monkeycrap's Diaryland Diary
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Torontario II
Indulgence In Inniskillin
The Niagara winery route took our rented vehicle, along with the strains of Colbie Collait's 'Bubbly' on its stereo to both the Jackson Triggs' wine estate, as well as Inniskillin itself. Along the way, neverending blurrs of ash-brown sky-matching leafless shrubs pay homage to the quaint, slightly archaic houses, each one of a different design, each one with its own character and probably its own story to tell. The GPS device that, for an extra charge, came with the rented Ford Focus, however, wasn't that perfect. "Go south 14 miles, then turn left", the GPS woman said. 'At next junction, drive 12 miles, then turn right", she then coaxed. And after we realize that the route doesn't seem too correct, she sings, "Recalculating..." And that's when we realised we were led out of Canada, into American customs, without our passports, or a way of turning back. The customs official, though, seemed to have had his fair share of adventures with nasal-pitched malfunctioning GPS systems himself, and waved us back into Canada after a few questions. Phew indeed.
How to drink wine in 10 steps:
1) Sniff.
2) Swirl.
3) Realise step 1 doesn't bring out the full taste of the wine, and is therefore redundant.
4) Hence, repeat step 1 to get the right scent. Ahh. Say that you think it smells much more full bodied than the first time around, even though you don't necessarily think so.
5) Curb boozeheaded desires to gulp down wine and do a pre-taste sip. Warm up the tongue mah.
6) Swallow.
7) Take another sip, swirl in mouth, and inverse whistle.
8) Wipe away spillage on your chin and shirt, which was caused by bad inverse whistling.
9) Decide to take a sip the way normal people do, without the whistling thingy.
10) Decide on whether to spit or swallow.
The wine-making process seemed so perfect though, that delicate commingling of science and art. I liked the part about how our guide, can't remember his name, it's definitely not Spaghettini, but let's just call him that, told us about how the wind coming from Lake Ontario, hitting the mountains, and flying back, acts as a natural regulator for the perfect climatic condition in which icewine grapes can grow. It's just so amazing, nature working in balance to keep things in balance.
Cascadence
You go to the Niagara Falls on a freezing winter evening, and somehow, your mind subconciously leads you to think. About certain things, certain people. See, the falls in winter, she has not that prosaic, and rather wearying, universal appeal as rendered by the majority (and the tourist brocheures). Upon realization of her charm caused by that very inequality, that disparity between prettiness and beauty, that which's so often been taken for granted, it, her being beautiful in her very own way, just hits you and pierces through. And like a swig of icewine, the after-effect, the sharp sweetness of it all envelopes you in this much-needed warmth that gently sparks something within.
8:10 p.m. - 2008-01-27
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