Page 49 of Old Girls Go Greek
The drive to the Ampelónes Apóllona – the Apollo Vineyards – took about an hour, along another picturesque road that hugged the coast. Past boats and little villages and several tiny churches of course, situated in the middle of rocky fields. I’d counted eleven before, at last, the minibus pulled through some impressive metal gates and we stopped outside the doors to the shop.
It wasn’t what I had been expecting at all. Everything was very modern with an attractive décor of shining glass and new wood, and there were wonderful shelves full of wine bottles. There was a lovely warm scent everywhere. The faint drift of garlic and herbs, mixed with wine. Even the air seemed a bit intoxicating.
We spent a few minutes outside on the terrace, admiring the view down over the sea, where we could see three speedboats swirling their wake behind them, and a couple of cruise ships moored up. It was breathtaking. What a fabulous place to see, to be a part of with other people who were obviously equally as enchanted as I was.
Eventually, having taken lots of pictures and selfies with the sea twinkling behind us, Jillian rounded us up and led us to a long table which had been set for our group.
‘I’ve never been anywhere like this,’ I said. ‘It’s just beautiful.’
‘The Italian Lakes are like that.’ Will nodded from his seat opposite me. ‘They take your breath away. I remember looking out over Lake Eseo when I was there for a wedding. It was like being in a film set. And no painting or photograph could ever capture it. You had to be there, to really experience what the world can be like.’
How true, I thought. All the photographs and documentaries I had ever seen of places like the Grand Canyon or the pyramids probably didn’t show just how awe-inspiring they were in real life. I felt even more determined then. I would see them. I would go and find out for myself.
Shortly after that, a charming waitress came to our table and the usual discussions began about what we were going to order. There were several possibilities. One actual glass of wine for those who preferred to keep things simple. Or three different sample sizes. Five samples. Seven or nine for the people taking it seriously.
‘Three glasses of wine? You’d have to carry me to the minibus. And then take me to a hospital to recover,’ June said, wide-eyed.
‘They aren’t full glasses,’ Jillian said, ‘just little measures for you to sip and then you refer to the tasting notes.’
‘I don’t think I could manage five. And does anyone ever order nine?’ Susan said. ‘Surely that would be dangerous. I mean, I’m practically teetotal. Just the occasional sherry or a port and lemon. That’s about my limit these days. My mother was the same, except she used to like a Babycham at Christmas, or a snowball. And then she would sleep on the sofa all afternoon after lunch.’
‘They aren’t full glasses,’ Jillian sighed, ‘I told you, and it’s in the handout.’
‘And what’s this about food?’ Dennis called from his end of the table. ‘Don’t we have to order that first?’
‘It’s not actually a meal; it’s the specially selected local delicacies that they provide. It’s in the handout,’ Jillian said.
June held up her hand as though she was at school. ‘So do we have to order starters as well as main courses? Because Susan and I had quite a big lunch. We went to that place we went to the first evening. The Blue Sea. We had calamari. Absolutely lovely and fresh, not a bit like the own-brand frozen ones I’ve had from the supermarket.’
Jillian’s smile froze a little.
‘It’s just a platter of small nibbles. Not a meal. It was all in the handout…’
‘Well, I’m not driving anywhere so I think I’ll go mad for once and have the nine glasses. But will there be dessert?’ June asked.
‘If you have nine glasses of wine, you won’t have room for dessert.’ Susan chuckled. ‘You’ll be in the back of an ambulance.’
‘It’s sample sizes,’ Jillian said through gritted teeth, ‘it’s all in the handout. I don’t know why I bother sometimes.’
‘Perhaps I’ll just have a sweet sherry,’ Susan said, looking down at the menu again, her face puzzled. ‘I don’t have to have all this, do I? As I said, I’m not much of a drinker. Although I was when I was younger; cider and blackcurrant, that’s what I used to like. I don’t suppose they do that, do they?’
Will and I exchanged a glance across the table and both of us were obviously trying very hard not to laugh. Next to me, Beryl had no such reservations and she and Effie were by then leaning against each other laughing, Effie dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.
‘No, I shouldn’t think so, this is a vineyard, where they make wine,’ Jillian said faintly. ‘Honestly, I’m losing the will, really, I am.’
Eventually, and with commendable patience, our waitress took the orders and went off with a sigh of relief to fetch them. A few minutes later, they started arriving. Oval wooden platters with the requisite number of wine glasses on them, plus some china bowls of nibbles.
The tasting notes were clear and informative and we picked up our first glasses and tried to make the sort of faces we had seen wine experts make. Thoughtful, faintly bemused and slightly puzzled.
‘It says dry on the palate, faintly zesty and with a hint of salt,’ Anita said.
‘And crispy,’ I added, referring to my notes.
‘I’m getting white wine,’ Beryl said, ‘and it’s not at all dry, it’s quite wet.’
Jillian bent forward and gave her a look.
‘The old jokes are the best, aren’t they?’ Beryl smiled back at her.
