…in a scientific way.

When we arrived at the border with Romania, the process of crossing had apparently begun with our tour leader had already given them a name list, and the bus driver now had to take all our passports to border control. We were told we were about 2 and a half hours from our destination, that there’s a lot of Romanians in Greece, and then she listed a lot of Romanian foods and a Romanian doughnut [that’s called Papanași]. A lorry that said ‘DISCORDIA’ on it went through the border while our bus was sat there, it was 3.43pm when it was crossed (no stamps had been added to my passport) and Google Maps said the road we were on was the E68. C said a lot (over the speaker) about her great uncle; massive what I assumed were either maize or wheat fields were either side of the road, OMV was a petrol station on it, another one was ‘Hei’ (which I managed to photograph the prices of), I wondered what speed limits were [and I’d forgotten I’d been wondering that earlier]; more fields of wheat/maize were either side of the road, I spotted several geese stood on a mound of muck in one, and the River Mures was one of several whizzed over before the town of Arat was reached – where there was a massive Mercedes advert.

A Jumbo store was pointed out (by C – who said they have them in Greece); Roma people were described, and there being a lot of violence against women; and a project in Athens (in which how to hold a pencil is one of the first things taught) was something I forgot (and something she said a lot about). Professional aggregate was signposted (in English as well as Romanian), a massive stone statue, a graveyard, and a variety of houses (disintegrating -> pretty modern) were passed before 4.55pm; and by then my jeans were stuck to my legs, the place arrived at seemed to be a winery, and odd smells were wafting from a door that said on it ‘ATENTIE! NU INTRATI’ (which Google Translate says means CAREFUL! DO NOT ENTER in Romanian).

A man called R with a lot of either sweat or hair gel in his hair began giving out keys, we were told it was 6.05pm rather than 5.05pm, and then I heaved my bag to room 12, my roommate followed, we weren’t in there for long; and back outside in 33C temperatures, the man reappeared, and white frizzante [frizzante is the term for a gently sparkling wine] – which we were told was wine, cooled, with bicarbonate of soda added – was poured out. He said they grow 80% red grapes, talked about all sorts of grape varieties – all of which I had no idea how to spell, I heard a rooster in the distance, a little cat wandered past and I got distracted from what the man said. I tried a tiny bit of this stuff (I’m not an alcohol person – due to being diabetic and not liking the stuff anyway)(and I much prefer to document what other people do when they’re drunk), another cat popped out from somewhere and squeaked; and shortly after that we were led off to a big door, and the man said (among a lot of other stuff) 30% of their harvest is handpicked, it starts in 2->3 weeks, there’s 50 hectares, and gypsies steal grapes.

There were ten thousand litre fermentation barrels in a very nice temperatured room, I forgot how long he said the process takes, he said something about something I forgot; and the next room had vertical ten thousand litre barrels (and I thought he said something about white wine made by reductive fermentation – taking 30->40 days) – and then we were led back out across the yard and down more stairs. 300 litre oak barrels (that said ‘Hungarian oak 3 year wood prestige’ on) were in another cool cellar, the barrels are only used 2 -> 3 times because they lose their properties; whisky aging and exporting wines to China were mentioned; and then we were led back outside, and as he’d asked me about my notepad earlier I showed him my info card [I made it myself – it gives a brief bullet pointed explanation of what encephalitis and short term memory are], which he read (properly – it took him several minutes and he looked quite impressed) and we had a quick chat.

Back outside, a 50% alcohol Sauvingon wine was given out for sampling, and then I got distracted by 2 little squeaking kittens and trying to photograph them…

…so that meant that weather conditions here are better for white wines was what I could remember from that brief speech. Bits of cheese and bread arrived on the table, I heard him telling a couple of others that he lived in Birmingham once, rosé wine came next, the little kittens continued to squeak (and had been joined by friends), salad was made available, I photographed the felines more; and then polenta, some sort of meat casserole, and some sort of mushroom based casserole arrived.

A wine called Cadarca was poured out for people at 8.10pm – and according to the man it has a bittery aftertaste and is recommended with Hungarian soup; I tried a tiny bit of the wine given to me earlier and didn’t like it, squeaking cats remained around, and the next bottle (a single grape variety) came out at 8.30pm; people sniffed their glasses, the man said something about holding your glass for a while, that this has low acidity, and more stuff I forgot. I photographed the bottles; it was humid, and kittens were still about at 8.50pm when the man talked about desert wines (and midges were everywhere), and 5 minutes later a pancake with apricot jam and a pancake with some other sort of jam were delivered; C asked a bit more about me, the 6th wine of the night got poured out at 9.25pm, and then people were offered rosé.

She told us what would happen tomorrow – and invited us to join her for a 6am run; and then the man called R and I talked a bit (he lived in England for two and a half years), he seemed to quite like me and asked if I’d like to stay and chat, I managed to immediately think up the excuse of ‘it’s an early start tomorrow’, a few more things I forgot were said, and then he went over to a nearby bush, picked several flowers and gave them to me, so I thanked him very much – and then said goodnight, and followed the others just starting to head in. I’d forgotten what room I was in by then, my roommate was poking her phone when I managed to discover the right one, and I put my pyjamas on.