Story time about red wine! Right now I feel like sharing. Sharing a glass of red, and sharing a story about a glass of red (or in this case, a bottle). I’ve just submitted my final essay (with one exam left to go) so I’m feeling a bit more at ease and I feel like reminiscing a little bit – well a lot lately – but I’ll get to that another day.
This is not a story I’m proud of in any way, and to be honest I’m not too sure why I’m telling it now, as I didn’t want people to know about it for such a long time. But I guess it’s now been 5 years, I think I can get over what people think of this story, most importantly because I’m an entirely different person now than I was back then!
In 2009 I was travelling around Europe, and for some part of it my brother and my parents decided to join me and we drove around parts of Europe together for 4 weeks. We began in Italy (as that’s where I was and Dad’s relatives are Italian) and we drove around Italy, through France and stopped into Spain for a about 2 days. My brother had a couple of friends from camp in Barcelona at the time, so rather than staying with the old folks again, we opted for the backpackers with his friends. A standard backpacker night began with casual drinks chatting to other travellers, and then some
card games drinking card games came into play. Now, as the typical backpackers we were, we only had shit cheap grog, which consisted of some miscellaneous things, and a bottle of 2 euro red wine (big mistake!). I’m quite hazy (for good reasons) on the chronology of events, but what I’ve been told is that I finished this cheap red to myself, and then proceeded to scull down straight vodka as I was losing in DrUno (drunk uno). One thing led to another, and before I ended up passing out, I climbed into what I thought was my bed (top bunk) which luckily was vacant at the time, and then spewed all down the wall. Red wine. On the wall, on (my designated) bed below, on the strangers bed that I took over, onto the floor. It was rancid. To make matters worse, the guy whose bed I climbed onto arrived to check in later that night…to find a drunk girl passed out who had vomited red wine EVERYWHERE! I feel really truly terrible for the other people in the room, and for that poor guy who ended up changing hostels – which I do not blame!
The following morning I of course woke up horrified with very little recollection of the previous nights events, but knew it hadn’t been pretty when my head was pounding and there was a stench of vomit circling the room. As I slowly ventured into the main areas I was informed that I had to clean up my own mess – which I did so without complaint, and take all the dirty sheets to their laundry. So that’s just what I did. And then spent the next 24 hours in bed from the shame and the hangover. While my brother and his two friends were munching down delicious looking food and being tourists in Barcelona, I couldn’t stomach a thing, and could barely even look at food!
The next day our parents came to pick us up, and we went back through France to Italy and Germany. So I didn’t end up seeing anything of Barcelona, apart from the mere drive in and out! To this day I can’t actually remember if my brother and I told my parents or not. It’s likely that as the years went on I got less ‘caring’ about it, but I’m not sure if it ever came up.
Anyway, I tell this story because since that day I haven’t been able to drink red wine, and I used to love it prior to that! After about 2 years maybe I realised there was one kind I could bear, and that was the sweet kind of red…which you can’t have too much of due to its sugar content. And now…5 years later, here I am, sitting at my desk after finishing an essay and sipping on my second glass of red.
Ahhhh….I love life 🙂
For more (tame) recounts on my travels through Europe, click here.