Geographically speaking, The Rock is on prime global real estate, [CLICHÉ ALERT] the crossroads between East and West. You'd think it'd be easy for those of us living here to pack a rucksack and embark on weekend trips to Rome, Berlin, Amman or Prague. Problems, however, are manifold. Outbound flights to such livelier places are either prohibitively expensive for the underemployed (i.e. me) or painstakingly long. My always willing blue station wagon stalls at the sight of that cul-de-sac known as the Mediterranean sea. The daring captain of the fluorescent yellow bicep-powered kayak—it flies the Ecuadorian flag—breaks down, dehydrated and teary-eyed, exactly one nautical mile into his virgin voyage to the Holy Land. Applications for a single-entry visa into the teleportation device keep getting rejected because of weight limitations inside the vortex.
To stave off the depression that builds up like chimney soot from too many sea-locked weekends, The Wife, Ph.D. and I often play hosts to intergalactic visitors brought to The Rock by our fancy friends. This is by far the safest and most responsible form of escapism available to islanders. Cue Random White Guy (RWG), My Life Coach's Midwestern buddy and chatterbox on a sabbatical from his job as head choreographer, special effects consultant and costume designer for the "We Are Mizzou" series of basketball videos. Friday night barbecue. Protaras, the blog's summer headquarters. We break bread and he drinks my wine. He quizzes The Wife, Ph.D., and My Zolpidem Supplier on American history and praises (because he does not know better) family life on The Rock. We drool at the thought of Bavarian girls pounding liters of beers and hiding their curves under a dirndl during Oktoberfest. Prediabetes strikes after taking a few small bites of the—what's a word for cloying to the tenth power?—store-bought cake he brought for dessert. Time comes to deal with the burning charcoal. RWG approaches the grill, notices the glowing embers and chivalrously offers to pee them out. I chuckle at the potty humor, douse the fire with what's left of an insipid Roditis Sauvignon Blanc, and think it'd be awesome to visit the faraway planet RWG calls home.
To stave off the depression that builds up like chimney soot from too many sea-locked weekends, The Wife, Ph.D. and I often play hosts to intergalactic visitors brought to The Rock by our fancy friends. This is by far the safest and most responsible form of escapism available to islanders. Cue Random White Guy (RWG), My Life Coach's Midwestern buddy and chatterbox on a sabbatical from his job as head choreographer, special effects consultant and costume designer for the "We Are Mizzou" series of basketball videos. Friday night barbecue. Protaras, the blog's summer headquarters. We break bread and he drinks my wine. He quizzes The Wife, Ph.D., and My Zolpidem Supplier on American history and praises (because he does not know better) family life on The Rock. We drool at the thought of Bavarian girls pounding liters of beers and hiding their curves under a dirndl during Oktoberfest. Prediabetes strikes after taking a few small bites of the—what's a word for cloying to the tenth power?—store-bought cake he brought for dessert. Time comes to deal with the burning charcoal. RWG approaches the grill, notices the glowing embers and chivalrously offers to pee them out. I chuckle at the potty humor, douse the fire with what's left of an insipid Roditis Sauvignon Blanc, and think it'd be awesome to visit the faraway planet RWG calls home.
2007 Domaine Vlassides Shiraz - Nice bouquet marked by smoke, black fruit, plums, pepper and coffee. On the palate, blackberry, pepper and vanilla. Chewy tannins and very smooth. 88/100.
2011 Ktima Keo Rose (Cabernet Sauvignon and Sauvignon Blanc) - Strawberry, pomegranate and some lingering sweetness on the nose. Flavor-wise, candied cherry, other bright red fruit and rose petals. Thirst-quenching. 84/100.