In February 1999, I was invited to Vinitaly by the Italian Chamber of Commerce in Melbourne. Since that first trip to Italy as an adult, I have returned well over 80 times (I stopped counting at 80) and have formed a love-hate relationship with a country that can be the most hospitable and laidback while at the same time bureaucratic and officious.
I would love to go and live there permanently but I have many excuses stopping me – and that’s all they are, excuses. I’m not brave enough to move there, to leave my comfortable existence here, to leave my children and my dog to take a chance like my parents did in the early 1960s, when they came to Australia and started all over again so that my sister and I could have a wonderful life.
However, my frequent trips have introduced me to a world of wonderful chaos that I long to be involved in but at the same time grateful to escape from. Only people who have been to Italy will understand, for those that haven’t, I hope your journey to Bella Italia isn’t too far away.
What an introduction
After a 32 hour flight via Zurich – which put many of the passengers in a panic because the detour wasn’t mentioned on the ticket (I won’t name the airline so cavalier with their passengers except it is an Italian company in deep pooh at the moment) I arrived in Verona to a minus seven degree temperature and sleet. Expecting to grab my luggage from the carousel and put on my warm jacket, I bravely walked down the stairs of the plane and strode quickly across the tarmac and into the terminal in my short sleeves while everyone else was rugged up and looking rather curiously at me.
I waited, quite damp, until the last bag had come off the plane. Of course, Murphy’s Law had come into play and my bag wasn’t there. Gone was my desperately needed warm jacket and clean underwear and any hope of warmth.
With continuing bad luck, the lost luggage counter was closed. It reopened at 4pm when of course, the young lady returned from lunch – after all, who would want to have two people running such a vital part of the airport. However, on seeing my distress and slowly-turning-to-ice body, a woman from the ticket counter came to my assistance. As she worked for the previously unnamed airline (their colours are red, white and green) I didn’t place much hope in her but my need for warmth and clean clothes forced me to explain my situation. She made a few phone calls and found my luggage – it had been left on the tarmac at Rome airport and was to arrive on the next plane to Verona, which was in an hour’s time.
I thanked her profusely and followed her advice to go to my hotel and not to worry, my bag would be delivered as soon as it arrived. I waited patiently. Then I waited impatiently. Then I started to get worried, was my bag ever going to turn up?
After many phone calls by the gentleman at the hotel’s front desk, it finally arrived 24 hours later, safe and sound. After approximately two and a half days (adding time in transit) in the same clothes I wasn’t going to complain, I was just glad to be connected with my bag again. My soon-to-be fellow judges at the competition were probably glad as well!
Fortunately, as soon as I arrived and was sorted at the hotel, I had gone out and purchased a coat – three sizes too big (it was the only coat available) – and I wore it everywhere to everyone’s delight. I am a small person, 4’11’’ in the old measurements, and the coat had been made for someone a lot larger, I looked like a child playing dress-ups.
I did learn one thing from that trip – always carry a spare set of clothes in my hand luggage. Of course, my bag has never gone missing on the Rome leg of a trip ever again but it has disapppeared at various other airports.
I had been invited to judge at Vinitaly, the largest wine show in the world. I n those days it had 14 pavillions, numerous temporary restaurants and an olive oil exhibition. There were approximately 45 judges from the many countries that sold Italian wines as well as 45 winemakers from some of the leading companies in Italy. The invitation had promised the wine competition then a trip around Tuscany while we waited for Vinitaly to start and of course, Vinitaly itself. I was very excited and was looking forward to everything as it was all new to me. There were a few old hands who spoke English and one person in particular took special care of me. Carlo Corino, had been the winemaker at Montrose Estate near Mudgee, and had been back in Italy just a short while.
He had a frightening appearance, brooding looks combined with a bald head and standing well over 1.8 metres tall. He always dressed in a big black coat making him look like someone out of a gangster movie. However, the old adage of never judging a book by its cover proved right, he turned out to be the biggest teddy bear.
He discovered there was someone coming from Australia and he sought me out. It was his first contact with someone from Australia since his return to Sicily, where he was working for a large wine company. Carlo guided me through various things like how to mark wines (the Italian system is completely different from Australia), which people were good to talk to and where the best coffee was served. Carlo died several years ago but I still think of him when I return to judge every two years or so.
On the first day of judging we were given our program. We were to judge for three hours and then go back to the hotel for lunch which would take two hours. We would then came back and judge for another three hours and then we would have dinner. We had two breaks, one in the morning and one in the afternoon where the only thing served was espresso and biscotti, great for the taste buds when tasting wine, but we were in one of the most beautiful buildings in Verona. Called Villa Giusti, it had belonged to Agostino Giusti who developed the formal gardens and made them a magnificent showpiece.
The building had been built in the 16th century and although it looked as if it was in good condition, things were not as they seemed. One morning when we were hard at work tasting wines and all you could hear was the occasional tinkle of glassware, we were all woken up – a part of the cornice had broken off and fallen to the floor. Bang! A big lump had fallen 10 metres to hit the ground, thank goodness no one had been standing underneath it. Plaster and concrete were spread all over the floor and the proceedings were interrupted for a few minutes while they cleaned up. Apologies were flying thick and fast but it was all fixed up and we set to work again – shaken and stirred
We worked until lunchtime, no one had been hurt and it was forgotten or at least put to the back of our minds as we headed back to the hotel for lunch. In the afternoon we were once again deep in thought and bang! Another piece of the cornice came down narrowly missing a sommelier. Villa Giusti is no longer used as a venue for the judging. I wonder why?
After the judging was completed we had a week to wait until Vinitaly actually opened so ICE (the Italian Trade Commission in Italy) sent us on a trip around Tuscany. All the foreigners were put on a bus and we were told, we would be shown the best that Tuscany had to offer. We went off with satisfaction of a job well done and high expectations of what was ahead. In retrospect, it was probably one of the most enjoyable trips I ever had although it didn’t turn out the way ICE (The Italian Trade omission in Italy ) expected it to.
NEXT: My Journey Begins
