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Published: March 11th 2007
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The next day certainly began early - I was exhausted and not feeling at the top of my game, but I was up, wearing my suit and downstairs by eight. We prepared for the speakers and delegates to arrive, making some last minute adjustments and arrangments. The meetings that morning went well, albeit a little slowly. I think some of the speakers enjoyed listening to themselves talk!
Afterwards, the delegates headed upstairs for lunch and I rounded up the companions who had taken a tour of the city that morning. We cleaned up the conference room, and I went to get a bite to eat, only to learn that half of the group was already talking about skipping the afternoon trip to the cava vineyards - including my dad. I agreed to go as our representatitve, although two of the delegates tried to talk me into going with them to the Gaudi cathedral. I met up with the 12 other people going and we packed onto a bus.
We listened to Christina, the tour guide, as she told us about
Mont Juic, or the "Jewish Mountain," where Barcelona buried its dead in mausoleums built into the side of the mountain.
We saw the huge cruise ships docked down by the port and watched as the landscape changed from the city to the country. We arrived at
Cordoniu, the largest wine cellar in all of Europe, with the capability of holding up to 1 million bottles. Its specialty though is
cava, a Spanish champagne that is made using the same process as regular champagne and uses local grapes. We were fortunate to be arriving on the day of harvest, and as we drove up, we saw truck upon truck full of glistening grapes and we could smell them as we descended from the bus. We entered a building that looked like a chapel, with thick stone walls, high celings and tall stained glass windows. They shepherded us into a small auditorium, where we viewed the informational video on the vineyards and the cellar. Then, my half of the group followed Christina along a small path past the family home, now empty except for meetings and weddings. It stood tall among the greenery that grew around and over it. Next, we passed by the line of grapes being taken from the trucks for pressing. We strained to see what the workers were
doing and continued on past a gigantic old manual press into the building that housed the original wine cellar. We saw the large open space and imagined the room being full of bottles as we peered down into it from the walkway above. There were cases containing original replicas of presses used and other tools that we looked at as we continued through the building. We exited back into the warm sun and found ourselves in a courtyard. At the center of the courtyard was a small stone structure over stairs leading deep into the ground. The quietness of our surroundings and the view of the mountains made it wonderfully peaceful.
Christina explained that lining the top of the inside walls of the small stone building were the family names and how they had changed through marriage throughout the years. It was an interesting fact, this small piece of history.
Then, we descended. We first found ourselves in the factory, where the bottling was done. It was silent that afternoon, with no work yet to be done. We looked in awe at the large machines and followed Christina up to a large letter written in the wall above
our heads from the king to his constituents when he had to remain at Cordoniu one time.
We began our further descent into the caves and the musty smell was overwhelming. It smelled like being in my grandmother's basement. We saw the first stage of fermentation, when the wine is placed on its side so the sediment falls to the side of the bottle. We also saw the remaining stages, as the bottle is tipped further and further up, until it is vertical and all of the sediment lies in the neck. As we got deeper in the caves, we could smell the cava as it fermented. Christina brought us to the beginning of the longest tunnel and we gasped in awe as we saw the rows of bottles go on for as far as the eye could see.
They packed the whole group into a small train-like car and a driver zipped around the tunnels, taking us into the original ones where we could see how narrow they were and the way they were hewn from the rock. It was impressive. We finally left the caves and ascended through a labyrinth of tunnels to arrive in a
large, dark room, set in a medieval way, with large, thin candles lining a long, narrow table. The group toasted each other, and then returned happily to the bus with their gift bottle of cava.
I raced upstairs to change into slick brown slacks and a soft cotton sleeveless v-neck tee shirt, after spending an hour reading by the pool (tough life, I know!). Dinner was at a restaurant right on the Port, with tables set outside and a variety of pre-set menu items. I had a lovely steak and french fries, while the others ate monkfish, and was fascinated to listen to my international travel companions. It was interesting to hear their points of view as international observers, and I think it was equally interesting to them to hear my experiences. The conversation wasn't entirely deep and serious though, and we turned to the crucial task of finding the right cigar. This included me, a fact which scandalized and delighted the delegates and their companions. After a very late night hunting down the best hot spots in Barcelona, we returned to the hotel for a few hours of sleep before our meetings in the morning - what a whirlwind!
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