Eeny meeny miny moe – is there a better way to pick the perfect wine farm?

With nearly 200 wine producers represented on the Stellenbosch wine route, 42 active wineries in Franschhoek, and even more in places like Paarl, Tulbagh, Robertson, the Elgin Valley and Constantia, the Cape wine region offers an almost dizzying array of wine farms to choose between when planning a day trip. The chance to experience special wines not widely available has become an expected part of a wine tour – so nowadays the “perfect” destination choice is all the more important and can leave an impression on your experience that extends beyond the rim of your glass.

The sheer number of choices in the Cape attests to the fact that each wine farm offers something special and unique to its visitors – so depending on what you’re looking for in a day-trip, not all will rank the same. Plus, the type of experience you’re looking for might also change from trip to trip – perhaps based on your mood, your company, or even the weather. Thankfully there are so many options there’s bound to be something suitable for any occasion. You can choose between the Grand Dames of historical significance, stylish boutiques with an international flare, down-to-earth farmer’s farms, and destination estates that make you feel like you’ve left South Africa and stepped into another part of the world – perhaps to a château in France or to an architect’s dream in Napa – with all the “fabulous” and none of the expense or unsavory jetlag. Frumpy and formal, laid back and social, warm and cozy, chilled and minimalist – the choice is yours.

With all these options the question remains – how do you choose the “right” wine estate, especially if you have high expectations and limited time? Ultimately the answer depends on you – since your idea of the perfect day probably won’t be the same as mine, your best friend’s and definitely not your brother’s – but starting to plan your experience can be straightforward if you give some thought to a few parameters. Here are a few tips and suggestions to help get you started:

The Vibe: Think about how would you like to spend your time while in the tasting room – do you want to find a relaxed spot by the fire and linger over your wine while chatting with friends, or would you prefer a more formal affair where you can taste at the bar while investigating your fancies with intricate questions about the vintage, the viticulture or the wine making techniques?

Informal: Muratie Wine Estate, Stellenbosch – Here you’ll be greeted by the mostly University-student staff who run the tasting room with a friendly, welcoming spirit, keeping the terroir-driven wine flowing as much as the conversation. Best of all, they seem to enjoy the experience as much as you do, even after closing time. Noteworthy wine: 2007 Shiraz, awarded 92-points by the Wine Enthusiast. www.muratie.co.za

Formal: Kanonkop Wine Estate, Stellenbosch – Recognized as one of South Africa’s top makers of Pinotage and as one of South Africa’s top wine estates by the John Platter Guide. The tasting room is polished and gleaming, the attendants well-informed. Noteworthy wine: 2008 Kanonkop Kadette, awarded 91-points by Wine Enthusiast; 2006 Kanonkop Paul Sauer, ranked five-stars by the John Platter Guide. www.kanonkop.co.za

The Wine: Since different regions excel in different types of wine depending on the terroir you should consider whether you have a particular type of wine you’d like to explore and may help you to choose the right area for you – cool and coastal for Pinot Noir or Sauvignon Blanc, or warm and sunny for rich berry reds. If the region isn’t a good indicator, perhaps try specialist wine farms who take great care and pride in your preferred tipple:

Method Cap Classique: Cabriére Estate, Franschhoek – One of South Africa’s premier sparkling wine estates, the tasting room is set below ground level and view of the cellar further below creates a cozy feeling. If it’s a sunny day, enjoy your bubbly on the front lawn while taking in the towering views of the Franschhoek Pass. Noteworthy wine: Cuvée Reserve, 5+ years on the lees. www.cabriere.co.za

Chardonnay: Jordan Wine Estate, Stellenbosch – Off the beaten track, the road leading to Jordan takes you past farms and fields creating the feeling that you’re away in the countryside. Enjoy a leisurely tasting on the shady deck while taking in the view of the lake and the mountains. Noteworthy wines: 2006 Jordan Chardonnay and 2007 Nine Yards Chardonnay, both awarded 90-points by Wine Spectator. www.jordanwines.com

The Personality: The architecture, surrounding landscape, views and general personality of a place can leave a big impression on your exerience so if you think carefully about what you’re in the mood for you’ll probably have a better time. To highlight just a few there are the Grand Dames, flanked by the legacy of winemaking history, and there are new players inspired by a cosmopolitan playfulness and design culture:

Grand Dame: Vergelegen Estate, Somerset West – An understated rare find –Vergelegen was founded in 1685 and is complete with historic buildings, 17 themed gardens, a 1,000-year old Camphor Forest, some of the Cape’s most highly regarded wines and a legacy of intrigue. Noteworthy wines: 2004 Stellenbosch V, awarded 92-points, the 2003 Stellenbosch flagship Red Blend, awarded 93-points, and the 2005 White blend, awarded 94-points, all by the International Wine Cellar; 2008 Vergelegen White, awarded 5-stars by the John Platter Guide. www.vergelegen.co.za

Cosmopolitan Player: Delaire Graff Estate, Stellenbosch – Set at the top of the Helshoogte Mountain Pass, it would be easy for Delaire to rely on the view alone to draw a crowd yet no expense has been spared at creating a premier tasting experience in a luxurious setting including calming water features, original artworks, custom-made leather furniture and one of the wineland’s most renowned restaurants. Noteworthy wine: 2009 Sauvignon Blanc, awarded 5-stars by the John Platter Guide. www.delaire.co.za

The Approach: Sometimes the approach a winemaker takes towards the final product is evident in the feeling of the estate. There are the stylistic icons, where every detail is attended to and quality is the holy grail, perhaps like the approach taken in Michelin Star kitchens, and there are others where the feeling is more relaxed, perhaps like the vibe in a warm and inviting country kitchen:

Michelin Star: De Trafford Wines, Stellenbosch – Hidden away at the end of a quiet country road, De Trafford sits among overgrown greenery and bougainvillea. A boutique winery, attention to detail is critical and everything is done by hand – including picking the grapes, filling and corking the bottles. Noteworthy wine: 2006 De Trafford Perspective and 2006 De Trafford Shiraz, both ranked five-stars by the John Platter Guide. www.detrafford.co.za

Country Kitchen: Springfield Estate, Robertson – Set on a relaxed farm in Robertson, Springfield is family-run and well away from the hustle and bustle. The tasting room and cellar are bordered by a dam framed by mountain views and you’re welcome to spend time with your own picnic basket under the shade trees. A short meander and you’ll no doubt meet the resident flock of ducks and herd of springbok. Noteworthy wine: The Méthod Ancienne Cabernet Sauvignon is made from a single vineyard using native yeast fermentation and spends two-years on the lees plus a minimum of two more years in the bottle. www.springfieldestate.com

The Setting: Sometimes you feel like getting away from it all – maybe it’s a simple trip to the country you’re dreaming of, or maybe you want something more glamorous – like a trip overseas. Even if you can’t indulge in a full-blown holiday, you can spend time at a destination estate and start to feel like you have – if only for a few hours:

French Château: Waterford Estate, Stellenbosch – Visitors are greeted by neat rows of citrus groves leading to the steps of the winery, designed in the style of the classic Bordeaux châteaus of France. The inner courtyard and a lovely fountain make a pleasant setting for your tasting – if you’re feeling like something sweet, try the unique chocolate and wine pairing. Noteworthy wine: ’03 Kevin Arnold Shiraz, awarded 91 points by Wine Spectator. www.waterfordestate.co.za

Rural Classic: Rustenberg Estate, Stellenbosch – As if historical significance and top quality wines were not enough, Rustenberg’s picture is completed by a beautiful setting 2-kilometers down an idyllic road lined with babbling brooks, overgrown oaks, and happily grazing cattle. Noteworthy wine: 2006 John X Merriman, a red-blend, awarded 91 points by Stephen Tanzer's International Wine Cellar and the Wine & Spirits Magazine; 2008 Chardonnay, awarded 90-points by Wine Spectator; 2007 Rustenberg Stellenbosch Syrah, awarded five-stars by the John Platter Guide. www.rustenberg.co.za

American wine tastings can be bitter

OK, so I am an American and have been living in South Africa for over four years. Today I spent the day enjoying the Cape Winelands and, just as I have in the past, happened to bump into a few American tourists. First, let me say how fantastic it is to see my fellow countrymen enjoying this corner of the world - well done, for only so few of us ever make it out this way. Second, at the risk of sounding like a foreign-wannabe-snob, please indulge me as a give out a few hints to my fellow countrymen at how to fly a little bit more "under the radar" when touring abroad.

OK, before I proceed, I can feel it - you're already thinking, what is she talking about, she's one of us?! And before you think too far down that path, let's be honest with one another and face an unpleasant truth. Whether we want to admit it or not, we all know those stereotypes of "the loud annoying American tourist" usually clad in white Reeboks with fanny pack in tow? "Yes!" you're thinking, "so 'not' one of those!" And thankfully, it's true. A lot of Americans in Africa are not dressed that way - instead we wear safari gear and expensive photographic equipment, and unfortunately, the 'annoying tourist' is not always defined by wardrobe choices.

Anyways, I digress. If you should perhaps find yourself in the Cape Winelands, here are three tips on how to fly a little more under the radar - you'll have a better chat with the people around you and maybe get to know the place a little better, too:

Tip #1 - if the volume of your conversation exceeds the volume of all of the combined conversations around you, notice it and consider speaking just a little bit more softly

Tip #2 - if you have finished your wine tasting and are ready to purchase a few of your favourites, yet find that the person who was attending to you has started to chat with the people around you - perhaps wait until the chat has concluded, or better, join in yourself, rather than interrupt the chat to insist on "ordering" your bottles right now. There is a laid back vibe in the tasting rooms of SA and people are not really accustomed to taking abrupt orders - rather chill out and enjoy your time, what's the rush in any case?

Tip #3 - if you really need to know the price in dollars rather than rands before you make your purchasing decisions, to determine whether the wine is a "good deal" or not, rather talk quietly among yourselves and bear in mind that the people working in the tasting rooms earn meager salaries and live practically at the bread line. Whether you're rich in America or you're just an Average Joe, you are living at a standard way beyond most people in South Africa and a little tact will go a long way.

Life in Limboland

Living abroad makes you feel like you're odd man out - you know, like that feeling you get sometimes, like everyone is watching you? Like maybe you just realized you’ve had something stuck in your teeth for the last hour, or you’ve been walking around with a section of toilet paper stuck to your shoe? You feel conspicuous, like suddenly everyone else is very noble and you are just, well, you.

Well, I’ve realized that when you decide to live abroad a similar phenomena happens – you are a foreigner, you are indeed odd man out. And even as I get more comfortable in my new life and hear that my accent is evolving, I know without any doubt that I am not from “here.” I am from “there.”

But sometime even though I know this to be the truth, an even stranger thing happens. Sometimes people whom you’ve gotten to know “here” seem to forget that you are from “there” – like in conversations with people who sometimes correct your pronunciation so that it sounds more like “here,” like maybe I forgot or perhaps spent too much time watching American television. Worse still, there are those that don’t believe you could really be from “there,” even to the extent that they mistake me for an imposter – a person who is just putting on a funny accent – a pretender, a wannabe, or someone who spent their childhood holiday in the States and became so enamoured they could never bear to shake it off.

The worst phenomena of all that happens when you’re living abroad is that sometimes people from “there” – from where I am really from – start to think that I am odd man out, too. Imagine when your friends start to tell you stories as if you’re actually a foreigner to them – they all start the same, “Well in America, blah blah blah...” I don’t know why this bothers me, probably because I never expected it and because deep inside I am still hoping to fit in someplace in the world. But I guess to be fair I must admit that this is at least partially true. I’m not like everyone “there” any more – even though I’m also not like everyone “here.” I am a member of a small population of people who are just like me, even though they’ve never met me or even each other, because they have also left home and started a new life someplace far away. The very nature of our decision means that we live in isolation from one another. We are Limbolanders – sort of in between – having the foundation and values of our homelands, the new learnings of our new lands and a sort-of understanding of both as we slowly lose touch with our old place and gain touch in our new place.

Life for Limbolanders is a kaleidoscope of learnings gained “everywhere” – I have friends all over the world, yet most of them don’t know each other and sadly, will probably never even be in the same room together. They are my virtual Sunday afternoon walking partners, my Friday-night-drinks crew, my shopping buddies – the fact that we are chatting over the phone while in different parks across the globe, or that we are in our separate homes connected by Skype over a glass of red, or that the shop happens to be on the internet – doesn’t change our connection to one another.

And this, in fact, is the most amazing phenomena of all – the fact that the deepest and truest of friendships can survive travel miles and time zones, that no matter where in the world you hang your hat you can keep these treasures with you like jewels in your pocket, even as you gather new ones.

Ayoba turns to Eina – South Africa’s World Cup Dream is Crumbling

Bafana Bafana, South Africa’s national soccer team, is ranked 88^th in the world and of the 32 teams participating in the Fifa 2010 World Cup, only one team (North Korea) – is ranked lower. Yet even against terrible odds South Africans have held hope that their team will win the tournament and even the President, Jacob Zuma, has said publicly that he has “great faith” that the team can win the Cup for the nation. Perhaps it is the euphoria of playing host to the World Cup that has imbibed this child-like belief that a win is possible – like the battle between David and Goliath might play out again, or that the magic of a Sangoma – a traditional African witchdoctor – will transform this unlikely dream into reality.

There is a feeling that this is South Africa’s time – that somehow the decision to bring the Cup here has enabled the country to be finally born anew, washed of the scars of its apartheid past, freed for from the discomforts of poverty, released from the animosity between classes, its people finally united in pride and overwhelmed with jubilation – if only for a month. A feverish energy on Opening Day became inescapable – it was already apparent that the day would be filled with excitement, but this was an upwelling of large proportions and caught some off guard. Businesses planned to remain open, mostly for half-days, but the mindset of employees everywhere was on a single track – focused on the first match, made evident in the sea of green and gold jerseys that almost everyone wore to work that day – ayoba (amazing) the World Cup was finally here.

South Africa ended its first match in a draw – but the performance of the team was strong and so was the sound of the vuvuzela, a triumphant noise of support. Day by day the efficient machine of the Cup carries on operating relatively smoothly and news headlines echo a collective sigh of relief as the nation proves itself to the world, that yes – we can do this, and everyone nods in agreement, well done to South Africa. But after South Africa’s second match – a loss and a disappointing show of skill – it became evident that the euphoria is starting to wane.

Just over one week into the tournament, Bafana Bafana now stands with one of the worst host nation performances in World Cup history yet it will need to defeat France – a former world champion and a true Goliath – just to stay in the game and proceed to the next round. The buzz of the vuvuzela is going softer now, eina (ouch), Bafana, eina – the feeling now is unsettled, tense, afraid of what might happen in the next match – the last chance. Bafana, the nation’s heart is hoping and crying for you.

National Pride, Jubilation & the Fifa World Cup in South Africa

South Africa is awash in flags – not just the South African flag, but flags of all nations. Flags drape buildings, line the sides of the roads, fly from the windows of cars and decorate office spaces. Street hawkers stand in intersections and wave the flags for sale – the vibe is one of celebration. The air is thick with energy, of excitement and passion. The feeling is everywhere – in the streets, on the radio, the television, and in everyday conversation – pervasive and inescapable. Finally after years of preparation, scepticism and anticipation, today is the dawn of the Fifa World Cup, surely the biggest event of its kind ever in Africa.

In the early hours of the morning, even before the sunrise, I wake to the sounds of a distant vuvuzela – that monotone sounding horn that creates an ear-splitting decibel, greater than a chainsaw but much beloved as a symbol for the Cup by everyone. On my way to work I drive past an open-air tour bus on its way through Camps Bay, full of celebrating fans singing songs, blowing vuvu’s, waving and hanging themselves over the sides. I remind myself that it’s still only 8AM. Coming through town I pass a flat bed truck full of workers in overalls singing and dancing in much the same fashion. As I drive past the ferris wheel that has suddenly appeared in the centre of town, gleaming in the morning sun, it is hard to believe that today is supposed to be a normal work day.

Once at the office the mood is one of delirium and I continue to wonder what I am doing here. Finally, about lunchtime, I am free and make my way through to the City Bowl – on the way I get the feeling I am about to be part of something very important. The highway to town is eerily deserted – not due to poor turnout but because it seems everyone is already there. The fan walk near Green Market Square means that some of the streets are blocked off, but even on those that aren’t the crowds roam freely, striding wherever they please, forming a fabric of green and gold, South Africa’s team colours. The sound of hundreds of vuvuzeles becomes a singular buzz, like I am inside a giant vibrating beehive.

I leave the City Bowl for the Waterfront, where big screens have been set up to watch the very first game, South Africa vs. Mexico. Again the park is overcrowded with celebrations and there is no chance of getting near the viewing area – the closer I get to the screen the more crowded – shoulder-to-shoulder and in some places even less, to the point I cannot move unless the crowd that I have somehow lost myself within, decides to. Surrounded by fans singing, dancing and waving flags, unable to move forwards or backwards and being shoved along by the energy of the herd, my mind flashes back to stories of stampedes and balcony collapses and I understand how those things can happen. Time passes and eventually I spill out of the group and back to myself, to my own volition.

I find a more comfortable place out of the way – with a view of a TV off in the distance. After a while South Africa scores the first goal of the Cup and the crowd erupts explosively, the noise crackles and reverberates everywhere. It’s hard not to get swept up, to feel the pride of the nation, to be part of the stampede of frenetic joy that has combusted across the nation – I can’t help but feel it and know that the World Cup, ayoba, is here.

Fun & Games at Home Affairs

I always knew living abroad would be full of fun and games. Now that I've been living in South Africa for four years, my original permit has expired and I've applied for a visa - a visa extension, to be exact. The Home Affairs guy said it's a routine application - so routine, it's for free. Here's a little insight into the process and how you might be able to have almost as much fun as me:

Hoop #1 Go to the Home Affairs web site to download the application and list of required documents – review this information very carefully – dot all your i’s and cross all your t’s

Hoop #2 Go to Home Affairs in person to submit said-application form and documents – get told, “No, no – this is ALL wrong – who gave you this?” “The web site,” I reply. I take a new application form and start over again.

Hoop #3 Dutifully gather required documents including letters from my employer and my partner. Visit the local police station – secure official stamps. Make affidavits and declarations. Copy, repeat.

Hoop #4 Go back to Home Affairs, my partner in tow. They need to see it to believe it. Wait for 2 hours. I notice that Immigration lawyers have a special que – I think how much money I’m saving this time, doing this myself, all for free. More time passes. Finally I submit, receive a receipt and leave with false hope that everything is now sorted – “just 30 days,” I think, “then I’ll get the new stamp.” That was easy.

Hoop #5 The 30 days pass – I go back to Home Affairs. Wait. Wait for 3 hours. Get told they can’t find my application, jeepers, where could it be? They ask, “How long do you want to wait?” They look tired now – like I’ve asked for too much. I wait some more – I tell them they have to find it. I leave a few hours later with a phone number to call – more false hope, otherwise empty-handed.

Hoop #6 I call the number. No one answers the phone.

Hoop #7 I call a few days later and get disconnected. I call back – it’s as if they know it’s me – again. No one answers the phone.

Hoop #8 I call and get told to “Come in with your receipt.” I say “but I already did that – they told me to call.” She tries to transfer me – about five times – then I get disconnected. I call again. No one answers the phone.

Hoop #9 Hire an immigration attorney. Continue waiting for my new visa stamp – and the bill. Can’t believe they said this was free.

Climactic Conditions & Being a Surfer's Girlfriend

Being the girlfriend of a surfer has taught me many things. I’ve always had the travel bug and surfing inevitably takes you in search of new places, so it’s a good match in more ways than one. Together we’ve churned up the dust on lots of pothole-filled back roads on our way through isolated sections in not-for-tourists zones, where the locals look up at you in surprise because visitors are a novelty. I can unpack a boot, jack up a car and change a flat tyre in 5-minutes flat. I’ve become a practiced wave photographer – enjoying my time on the beach while snapping up lifetime memories that can be savored and celebrated. I’ve found myself in the middle of the ocean – kayaking or snorkeling where I would never go alone – taking in the beauty of aquamarine water, seeing the shore from the other side, meeting inquisitive sea-friends and strange alien looking plantlife. I’ve been dunked by walls of seawater, sputtering to the surface like a fledgling painfully trying to learn to surf my own fun. I’ve gone on adventures when most stay inside cozy under a duvet – braving the rain, the wind and the cold – to catch a glimpse of Mother Nature gracing the seas with big swell, big waves and big dreams.

In surfing, the convergence of a myriad of factors makes for perfect conditions: the wind direction, the swell height, period and direction, the angle of the beach, the tide and the cycle of the moon – Neap or Spring – the time of day. For some surf spots these things unite only on rare occasions, making the event one of significance and worthy of the chase, to travel at odd times, seeking out the dream. I’ve always been spontaneous but now the weather patterns have become a deciding factor in my life – beach holidays are no longer decided by the condition of the sun but by the direction of the wind and on storm patterns emerging from the deep Antarctic. Hand-drawn synoptic charts, plotted in purple, red and orange, have taken me as far away as Mozambique and Namibia, and just about everywhere in between.

As co-pilot on surfing adventures I’ve learnt that when the time is right and a window of opportunity presents itself in a moment, you have to be ready. And even though I’m not the one suiting up and jumping into the sea, there are many fringe benefits like the exciting feeling of discovery, experiencing beautiful landscapes and taking in the magic of the sea. And so it was that I found myself awakening in the cozy predawn darkness on a wintry morning – rising, dressing and rushing to the car for a new expedition. We were chasing the tide and the dawn for the promise of a new surf spot up the West Coast of South Africa.

We drove through the darkness blanketed by fog – at times visibility was limited to only a car’s length, maybe two. The headlights punctured the mist with inadequate shafts of light. Eventually the mist lifted and the dawn presented itself to us in shades of pink, orange and yellow – lighting up the sky in beautiful streaks of colour. We arrived at our destination on a lonely strip of beach, seemingly isolated yet managed by a gate keeper who greeted us with clipboard in hand and made friendly small talk as he slowly signed us in. We were at the doorstep of a beach resort, and were obliged even though we were not guests. Paperwork completed, we were finally free.

We got started on our walk – 4-kilometres to go – and celebrated as we found ourselves starting the day in the West Coast, taking in its few unmistakable characteristics – a red dirt trail, scrubby bushland crowded by one colourful succulent plant after another, thorny bushes, lucent green and dark rich browns in the dew of the morning, everything wet, and birds – everywhere birds, gliding through the long view of the Swartland.

We eventually found the spot through the wonders of Google Earth, a GPS-enabled phone, and hearsay. We celebrated as we found ourselves in view of Table Mountain across the bay, shrouded in pink clouds. The beach had a steep pitch and as the waves broke on the shallow sandbar the water rushed back down the slope, crashing into the sea, churning and causing a great wobble on the surface. The backwash caused the waves to double in height and as they closed out the sound reverberated like thunder.

After the surf we were back in the car and passed by the harbour – the fishing boats had come in, laden with hundreds of Snoek – some of them still gasping, drowning in air – and an assault of relentless screeching seagulls circulating overhead, their noise overwhelming and as charming as nails on a chalkboard. The fishermen called out their prices, one voice on top of the next, all the while cleaning the fish on the side of the boat, splattering blood, dumping the guts and tossing the fish into boxes for transport. We scored two enormous fish – a rare treat.

We headed home through Darling – a small town made famous for its history, quaint buildings, a local satirical celebrity who makes his living by poking fun at the government while dressed as a woman and last but not least, wine farms. We drove through rolling farmland lined with row upon row of grapevines with yellow and brown leaves, about to fall to the ground before a winter’s sleep during the rainy months to come. We stopped at Darling Cellars for a taste of their berry-rich Pinotage and were greeted by the farmer’s wife from behind a giant tasting bar made to look like a wooden wine barrel. She generously treated us to samples while straight-talking stories of farm life in a gentle voice that masked her sharp wit.

Our day complete, we returned home with memories of the foggy journey, a pink sunrise, the discovery of a new place, photos of beautiful surf, the freshest Snoek possible and Darling wine. We were only an hour from home but it felt like we’d gone so much farther. I couldn’t help thinking how nice it is to be a surfer’s girlfriend and co-pilot on trips that take you to so many more places than the surf spot alone, and that once again leaving things to chance – or rather to the weather – turned out better than we could have ever planned.