Napa for the Soul

Here's the thing of it, if someone walked up to me and said, 'Move to Napa, Or Else!', I would likely say something along the lines of, 'Well, if you insist.' And then I would call for a U-Haul straight away and be done with it. I can't even begin to tell you how that place has managed to soak into my skin.

I was actually born in California (Fremont, to be exact). When I was a few years old my family moved away (much preferring the horribly cold climate of Wyoming, I guess). When I was younger I adored California, and I vowed that as soon as I was old enough I would move to San Francisco.  I would also become very rich and very beautiful in the process, I'm sure. However, several years passed and I was singing a different tune altogether. (Eventually I wanted to move to France -- and that was that -- end of story.) Anyway, not only did California completely fall off the radar, but I began to look at it in a different light. It had become the land of plastic surgery, excessive teeth bleaching, and Juicy Sweatsuits (rather accurate, I must say), and, therefore, to be avoided at all cost. It's funny, really, as I happen to own two and a half Juicy Sweatsuits myself. However, I will deny this point-blank if ever asked. Besides, they don't really count as I've never actually worn them out of the house. (How you like that for snazzy logic?)

Anyway, my wonderful husband had to go to Napa for work, so naturally Miss Milia and I accompanied him. Shockingly, it is our third time doing so. The first time was when Emilia was only three months old, and I still remember the pilot saying as we boarded the plane, 'Why, she's fresh out of the wrapper!' For some reason that still gives me the willies. Yuck.

Visually speaking Napa is breathtaking. Whether you like wine or not (I happen to like it very much) the actual vineyards are gorgeous. I love driving by and seeing row after row of vines fly past the window. And most of the wineries themselves are pieces of art. (Michael is still talking about Del Dotto from our first trip. He came back to the hotel after being wined and dined and raving about the whole experience. As I recall, I said a few choice words and nearly knocked him flat. What can I say? I was very tired from a baby right-out-the-wrapper screaming her head off for two hours straight or something. And the last thing I wanted to hear about was wild mushroom ravioli and wine being poured straight from a cask --while being seated in a cave, mind you. Meanwhile, he still gets this glossed-over look every time the place is mentioned. Whatever.)

One of our favorites is Freemark Abbey,  and not solely because of the wine.  Although I seem to recall it being quite nice. Rather, we want to live there. One of the walls in the tasting room is dark wood and glass, and it essentially works like a sliding glass door, disappearing to goodness knows where. It opens up onto a beautiful patio with stunning grounds. I also love all the stone -- you know, actual stone and not the cultured crap you find everywhere that gives a slight Disneyland feel to things. It's magnificent.

Even though many go to Napa for the actual wine (I've heard that 29 can have some terrible accidents on account of this fact), it is most definitely not the only reason to go. It is always much cheaper to buy wines at home, really -- wineries are notoriously over-priced (you know, the whole captive audience thing). Instead, we go for the sunshine*, the beautiful scenery and architecture, the restaurants (albeit nothing terribly fancy -- no Bouchon for us, I'm sorry to report), the shops (including a cupcake shop that nearly blew my flip-flops off), and the much needed desire simply to get our bums off the front porch.

And so, get ready for a little barrage. I came home with a very full tummy and a few things in my suitcase. And I expect to tell you all about it.

*Now really, who knew it even rained in Napa? Meanwhile two out of the four days it did just that. And I'm not talking about a little sprinkle here and there. I'm talking about full-on-Southern-style rain.