bikefoodwine, THE BLOG

“bfw”

So here goes a little more than nothing:

I leave for Barcelona Spain in two days. Because of a recent risky business endeavor, and naively trusting a stranger, I’m leaving with a mere 1,200 dollars, hope and a few contacts, and determination to find work picking grapes.

I’ve done so pretty crazy things in my life, but this is on the borderline of stupid, and god only knows I’ve done my fair share of stupid ones too… id est, pervious paragraph.

Things are going to work out damn it, and I’m going to have the time of my life. I’m going to get extremely frustrated and cuss a lot at some points too, and depending on how much of a personal pity party I’m having, you may also get to read about it.

Some of you vicariously have backpacked through South and South East Asia with me. Some of you barely know me, and hey! If I really play my cards right maybe even a few strangers will be reading this dang thing (I’m much better looking in person ;) ;) .

How this came to be:

Roxanne, if you do not know her, may be the most jovial sweet person on the planet to spend time with, not to mention she’s one funny bitch.

Around the beginning of 2009 we started throwing dinner parties together with stupid silly national themes. The first one was “Indian Food Parade!,” and the most recent one was “Le Diner Parti!.”

(As a side note I’m going to go ahead and state that I use the hell out of exclamation points, so if it bothers you, you may want to find another nerdy bikefoodwine blog to dork out to, Got it!!?)

So at Le Diner Parti I was staked out at the stive for most of the evening. This put me in prime wine pouching position. Fancy bottle of French wine lands on the kitchen table… swoop! That bad boy made its way to top of the fridge under the guard of yours truly, and Oakland’s own, the infamous French Chris.

It was while pan frying in duck far my first attempt at duck confit, with a bottle of kohor (that I was drinking straight out of), I raised it above my head and slurred something along the lines of “Fuck this, I’m leaving in September to bike tour around France, Spain and Italy to pick grapes for the harvest and to make out with French and Spanish boys!”

See my apartment I had just moved into that was suppose to figuratively be my own personal Island of the Lotus Eaters, turned into a bedbug infested shit show that left me sans 75% of my belongings and 100% over the idea of moving again.

The morning post Le Diner Parti I woke up and felt much like I was going to die, but I also felt a very peculiar sense of liberation… because I knew deep down inside of me that my drunken declaration was going to become real.

And on to why I have decided to write bikefoodwine,
THE BLOG:

Because while traveling in Asia I sent stories to my friends and they liked them. It’s that simple… and maybe for the occasional sympathy, long distance company and maybe even a little fund raising here and there. So there.

XO,
Me

Wine tastes just as good out of the bottle... sometimes better even.

Wine tastes just as good out of the bottle... sometimes better even.