DJ Trava

Here’s a lesson I learned in Adelaide: the best way to recover from heavy night of libations is to volunteer to drive around Mclaren Vale with your equally hungover husband and two English blokes wishing there was no such thing as 8am. Our day began at 8am at Adelaide Central Market, where we were to meet the two other people to buy food for lunch. It was at this early point in the morning that one of the other people we met, took it upon herself that in their haste to get wasted Australian style last night, that they, the two other people, forgot to first, find a map of Mclaren Vale and second, to figure out a route to Mclaren Vale and third, to get the address for the visitors center in Mclaren Vale.

8am turned into 10am, so we wrote off the morning as if we never had a plan, so we just took off. We did eventually arrive at the visitors center and bought a route map and managed to fit in some wine tasting all before noon. We set about the odious task of driving from cellar door to cellar door, tasting wine and nibbling cheese. We covered 7 cellar doors before stopping for lunch about a quarter to three. The wine tasting turned out to be the best fun, even after the novelty of being told to knock back as much alcohol as we could handle for free had warn off. We all acted like real connoisseurs of the trade, even bad mouthing and the wines we didn’t like and praising, giving merit to those wines we did like.

Our first random event of the day was while we were at the 3rd winery, we were welcomed by a young woman, who it turned out, had actually been living in this small shed right in the middle of the Great Sandy Desert with no T.V. or working radio, no Internet access. We figured she also probably shot any carrier pigeons or small children daring to approach with news of the outside world. We told her are plans to watch cricket and then she asked us if we were playing or just watching and followed that questions with this question: “What ashes?” After we left, we couldn’t help but conjecture that maybe the desert had dried up her brain.

Our last stop of the day, before heading back to the best Adelaide hotel where we were staying was to one of those other peoples uncles winery. On arrival, it soon was clear that yes indeed her uncle owned the winery, but that her uncle had forgotten to mention to his niece that it wasn’t finished being constructed yet. Off with their heads! If only, we could’ve have left them there with her uncle and the map and maybe some cheese.

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