Hypothermia!

My class spent the day at a winery in Blanquefort, learning and practicing pruning methods. As we were waiting at the Fac for the bus to arrive, we watched the rain pour down, listened to the wind, and commented that this wasn't just a little romantic pre-spring shower, but a "fooking-Atlantique veentah shtom." A fucking Atlantic winter storm, I thought, at subzero temperatures.

Sure enough, we were pelted for several hours with rain, wind, and sleet (yes, sleet) as we sawed and clipped and got molded into the future oenologues of the world. I thought I was going to die. The upside is that when I tried to cut my finger off with my shears, I was so numb I didn't actually feel it. As soon as I got home, I had to jump into a hot bath, and drink some vin chaud - hot wine with spices and sugar - which may sound mildly disgusting (ok it is,) but in terms of body heat it's like injecting molten lava directly into your veins. When you can't sense anything other than hypothermic nausea, a small aversion to a bland taste will be pummeled to death by the prospect of getting warm.

But, despite the apparent blood cost of being enrolled in this program, it was a fun day. It was far more educational than just sitting in classroom staring at photos of vines. And, for the first time, it seemed like my fellow students looked like winemakers, not just a group of bourgeois-dressed post-collegiates who stand around smoking cigarettes. One could tell which students felt at home in the vineyard, and which got smacked in the face by the reality of being (gasp) outside! Looking around, I could almost see how certain students would look 20 years down the line when they would be veteran winemakers, and I was even surprised by a few of them. Listening to some of them talk on the way home, I think it was just as interesting a day for them as it was for me. And it was fun, even when I tried to de-finger myself with my pruning shears.