Except when it doesn’t.
See below a blow by blow account of a winery tour the bf and I embarked on whilst gallivanting around Adelaide a while back.
I’ve posted this on Facebook in the past so if you’ve already read it, more power to you. If not, buckle up. You’re in for a wild, alcohol fueled journey through Adelaide’s wine region.
Oh, before you read any further, you should know that neither the bf or myself are avid wine drinkers. This tour was booked on a whim and we were flailing about trying to be prim and proper, upstanding members of society the whole time, to fit in with the crowd. We failed. Miserably. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Anyway, without further ado, let the tour begin…
“Here are some things I wrote down during the winery tour today. A running commentary, if you will. I was going to turn them into a well written list but here is the original copy for your viewing pleasure:
Gravity is used to make wine – don’t ask me why or how.
Port is labeled as ‘tawney’ because Portugal have claimed rights to the word ‘port’. It’s a bit selfish, but whatever.
I LOVE FORTIFIED WINE. Tastes like sultanas and syrup and happiness.
$2000 bottle of port being passed around. *internal thoughts: if there is one thing in your life that you do not drop, let this be it.*
Tour guides are full of one liners. I laugh every time. Our tour guide’s name is Martin. Adam should be a tour guide.
The vintage is when they harvest the wine. It’s gotta be hot.
So many sheep.
Can you make a bad wine out of good grapes? Yes.
Can you make a good wine out of bad grapes? No.
The Barossa has a German heritage. Meine name ist Katelyn. Ich bin funf und zwanzig jahreh alt. Primary school German classes are kicking in.
Foster’s owns basically everything.
Contrary to prior belief, I don’t hate olives. I wouldn’t seek them out. But they’re definitely not the devil’s food.
IMPORTANT: the wolf blass winery does amazing potatoes.
There’s not enough cream for my tart.
Adam just said ‘cream your tart out’ and I’m dying.
I fucking love moscato and I don’t care what anybody says.
I think I’m the token wasted white girl.
Bathroom break. It smells like vanilla in here. Regaining composure in 3, 2, 1…
There’s a guy on this tour dressed all in blue. He has a scarf and a hat and a camera and a European accent and I can tell he’s a connoisseur because he swills the wine before he drinks it and he makes the wine drinking face as he sips.
Someone didn’t eat all of their bread roll. I should snatch it.
I didn’t snatch it. My one regret of this tour.
It’s really bright outside.
There is a large bird.
*admires how high grasshoppers can jump in comparison to humans*
Back on the bus and need to pee. No idea when the next stop is. This should be fun.
Mead sales across the world have increased because of Game of Thrones.
Jesus Christ, I need to pee so bad.
McLeod’s Daughters was filmed near here. Mum, I’m sorry for bringing back sad memories. RIP Claire.
The ‘Jacob’ in Jacob’s Creek is not a first name, it’s a surname.
The corks in wine bottles come from trees.
The zipper in the jeans has been undone. I’m not sure how much longer my bladder can hold. Lord, give me strength.
This tour guide knows his wine. I’m learnding.
“Sit back, relax, enjoy the drive, have a siesta.” Thanks Martin, can I take a piss also?
There are some nice trees around here. Big and green.
Koalas, kangaroos and feral deer inbound.
Spotted: Koalas 0, kangaroos 0, feral deer 0. Martin, you’re a liar and a fraudster. You reeled me in and then cast me back out.
Ok so there’s a venison farm but that doesn’t count.
“Has anyone got a glass of water? Because I’m a little hoarse. Haha, get it. There’s a horse there.” – Part time tour guide, full time comedian, Martin.
Google tells me there’s 25 minutes left until we reach our next stop. I, honest to God, am unsure if my bladder won’t fail me before then.
Everyone else on this bus is at least 60 years old. How are their bladders in better shape than mine?
Sleep time. Maybe if I nod off, the time will pass quicker until there is a toilet available.
We’ve stopped. We’re seated at the back of the bus. If there’s a line up for the toilets when I get off, I will cry.
Sweet relief. All is well in the world again.
Bloody heck, the hand dryer is like a fucking jet engine.
Hahndorf – Observations: There are 80 shops in the Main Street. It’s fucking cold.
One Farmer’s Union iced coffee pls.
Holy largest amethyst I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
There are so many sweets shops I’m moving here permanently.
Free soap with your candles? Don’t mind if I do.
Ok, slightly late for the bus because soap lady told us she had a watermelon bath bomb out the back so as if I wasn’t going to buy it.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve just turned on the floor heaters. Let me know if you catch alight because they do get pretty hot.” Everywhere should have floor heaters. So toasty. So nice.
Back in Adelaide City.
Korean BBQ for dinner, come the fuck at me.
The end. What a roller-coaster ride of emotions.”
And that, folks, brings us to the conclusion of one of the most confusing, nonsensical winery tour reviews (is it a review? I don’t even know what to call it, to be honest) that has ever spilled forth from anyone’s imagination.
Feel free to like / share if you’re feeling generous. Like, really generous. I know it’s a big ask considering you’ve lost about 15 minutes of your life that you’ll never get back by reading this.
Catch you later,
For all the people who’ve made it this far.