So Two Guys Walk Into a Winery...

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Geo: 41.1929, 0.775447

I was going to learn a lot this day, and it had started the night before. I would be reminded many times today, and in the days to come, that we were now in Catalonia, not necessary Spain. Barcelona is the capital of the Catalonia "autonomous community" within Spain, which had been independent for longer than it has been part of Spain proper. They speak Catalan primarily, not Spanish, and they are fiercely independent. Jeff had mentioned this several times in the past, but I did not realize how seriously it is taken until we arrived. All of the signs in the airport should have told me up front. Everything was in Catalan, English, and then Spanish. The road signs near Barcelona were in Catalan and then Spanish. As we got off the highway and close to Gratallops, all of the signs were in Catalan only. When speaking, everyone was speaking Catalan among themselves. They can all speak Spanish, but evidently they make a point of trying not to. The Catalan flag was flying everywhere and displayed on balconies everywhere we went. In fact, I was not to even see a Spanish flag until we arrived at our hotel in Barcelona two days later, it was flying at a lower pole than the Catalan flag, on equal level with the EU flag. During the course of our time in Spain...sorry, Catalonia...we would have multiple occasions to speak with locals about the situation, and it was all fascinating. More to come.

The area of Catalonia in which we were staying is called the Priorat, and it is region technically defined by its wine. It is only one of two regions within greater Spain classified at the highest level for wine production and, as such, the standards are very rigid. The entire area we were now visiting is characterized by tiny, very compact and very old villages, invariably on a hilltop, surrounding by vineyards on the steep hills, as far as you could see. The towns are sprinkled everywhere and joined by an excellent network of well maintained roads. That said, the roads are all extremely narrow and invariably windy. It became a running joke that the roads were all well marked, with white lines drawn to indicate the outer edges and the median. That said, the roads' width would vary widely, but not the lines, so more often than not the lane in which I was driving was a foot or more too narrow for our van. It meant that every time you met a car coming in the opposite direction, if you could even see it coming around the bends, you would have to slow down and judge if the road was wide enough for you to pass. It made for rather harrowing driving, and not very relaxing -- at least for the driver (me).

After a breakfast far too large to justify, given the feast we'd had the night before, we loaded up and headed out to the hilltop citadel of Siurana. The drive there was memorable enough, but the tiny village was spectacular, all ensconced within ancient walls and necessitating a hike down and up to even reach the outer gate. It made for some good picture taking.

We stopped in a few other scattered villages during the morning, but we had an appointment to keep at noon. Jeff had befriended two brothers who run a winery in the village of Poboleda. Jeff has known them for more than a decade, and every time he visits they have hosted him and shown him around. They invited us all to their winery for a personal tour and -- we later learned -- elaborate home-cooked Catalan lunch in their cellar. The brothers are members of the Pahi family, which has been making wine in the Priorat since 1611. Yes, 1611, on the same land. They have vineyards scattered across the Priorat, and up along the French border. They could not have been more hospitable. One of them, the true winemaker among them, speaks primarily Catalan and French, having studied his craft in France and spending much of his time there. His brother, who is a banker by day, speaks excellent English, and he did the majority of the translation. The French-speaker was passionate about the wine, as well as Catalan politics, and his brother was left to do most of the translating during our four-hour-plus visit. We got to see and run the bottling machine, the testing lab, etc.; all of it within one of their family homes, which is more than 400 years old. They eventually led us to the main cellar, in which they had prepared a beautiful table and proceeded to wine and dine us for the next several hours. All of the food had been prepared by their mother and was outstanding. It was a five-course feast. We spent a lot of time talking about the persecution of Catalonia under Franco, following the Spanish Civil War. The brothers' grandfather was executed by Franco's troops in the home still occupied by their mother. Catalonia has been attempting to break away from Spain for years, but the central government has consistently blocked attempts to hold a straight referendum on the subject. Aside from, what they deem, an organized assault against their language and culture, they are particularly peeved at the fact that Catalonia is the wealthiest region of Spain and provides the lion's share of taxes to Madrid and Brussels, yet they receive the least amount of money or investment back. I never quite understood it, but they did finagle a special election, which will be held on 27 September of this year. If I understood correctly, the rival Catalan parties have agreed to run on special tickets and if Nationalists win a majority, the Catalan government will push to change Spanish law and allow a true referendum on independence, similar to what Scotland attempted late last year. Every local we encountered in the area, literally, was talking about the vote, and we learned that the prevalence of Catalan flags everywhere was tied to an organized "get-out-the-vote" effort. I found it all fascinating.

In addition to the food, of course, we had wine, and lots of it. Even the girls got to join in a little. They also served us some of the vermouth they made on their estate. I know nothing about vermouth, other than it is used in a martini...which I hate. What they gave us was an herbed liquor, dark in color, and served chilled. It was outstanding. I wanted to buy some, but what they had was literally just made for their own consumption. I did, however, locate a bottle of similar brew the next day, which I brought home and look forward to sampling. The brothers would not allow us to purchase any wine, and instead presenting us with six assorted bottles. Their hospitality and graciousness were highlights of the trip.

We were all overstuffed when we finally departed, and the last thing we wanted to do was sit down for another full meal. We stopped, instead, at a local organic-type market and purchased bread, cheese, olives, etc., and set up a picnic on the veranda outside our hotel. And yes, we did enjoy some of the wine we had just received. It was a fantastic evening to sit out and enjoy the sunset.

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