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It feels like I step back a century when we enter the cellar. The giant candles offer barely enough light to navigate, but serve their purpose when viewing the colour and density of the wine. Ancient wooden steps I dare not lean on for fear of breakage - and the resulting embarrassment - rest upon the timber frames ... |
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I really like the 'Trocla Nera', a local wine from the Blauburgunder grape. Too much it seems. I've never been to a tasting before, and my inexperience begins to show as I slowly become light-headed ... |
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The floor is unevenly cobbled, with wooden slats thankfully making things easier underfoot. Needing to relieve myself, and too afraid to interrupt Herr Pampel, I go off looking for the toilet. It takes an age to find, much longer than the way there, so I take what was surely the correct route back, and end up lost ... |
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I am not too concerned. I enjoy exploring old buildings like this. The arches, solid oak doors and wide passageways are austere and monastic in design. In the dark they take on an eerie aire. Invading moonlight seeps in somehow from above, through vents and street level foot-windows ... |
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I thought I saw movement in a distant shadow, probably just a cat, and become a little excited. The gentle voice of Herr Pampel was faint in the distance, echoed and unintelligible, adding an ethereal soundtrack. I happen upon another of the hotels antique chairs and sit a while pondering. The thought confirms it. A Déjà Vu moment ... |
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I eventually find the group, and half expect them to be wearing monks robes. Bruno is by now a little merry too, and seems pleased, or relieved, to see me. Eva had taken notes on the best wines, thankfully not in Latin, and even saved me a sip of her recommendations. |
