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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2000-06-28, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 28, 2000. PAGE 5. Other Views Enough to drive you to drink There's a wonderful old James Thurber cartoon that shows a slightly goofy looking gent holding a glass of wine by the base (as only winegeeks do) and enthusing “It's a naive, domestic burgundy without any breeding, but I think you'll be amused by it’s presumption." That's a near-perfect sendup of what I call winebabble: that smarmy, pseudo­ sophisticated bafflegab that you too often hear from the grape-stained lips of winelovers. I have no problem with wine descriptions that actually say something. If someone tells me. a wine tastes peppery or fruity, that gives me a sense of what they mean. I have no trouble imagining the taste of an 'oaken' port or a 'woody' cabernet. But what the hell is a wine that displays 'angular resonance’? Or 'virginal overtones’? Or a 'charming presence’? It gets worse. I have heard wines described as 'boof'. Or 'bootless'. Don't ask me. I read one winetasters notes on a hapless Rioja. He wrote: “amusingpeptides. Hints of the Crimea." And in a Napa Valley wine store, there’s a chi chi little 'connoisseur’s guide' sitting on a Customs, immigration! Take care! I’m sure we have all had stories that we tell about one or more times when we went through customs and something out of the ordinary happened. Most of the time we expect to be passed right through without delay although there are those times when we experience anything but. With terrorists and other types of criminals floating from country to country, the job of the immigration and customs officials becomes that much harder. First of all, I think we sometimes confuse the two and say customs when we mean immigration. Customs is concerned only with the importation of various physical goods which may or may not be permitted. Immigration, on the other hand, deals with whether you are allowed to come into the country. Normally the immigration people get at you first, followed by the customs officials. In Europe you will note that sometimes it is the police who check your passport. All these officials may or may not have a sense of humour but my first piece of advice to you is not to test your theories as to this humour. They are all business when you and your belongings arrive at a border and you should be too. Give straight answers to any questions and let them decide how long to carry on the conversation. You are more likely to get through without the above mentioned delay. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, you are asked to pull aside and have your car checked. The other day I was over in Port Huron for just under an hour and, on the way back, I was asked the usual questions about what I had bought etc. In spite of the fact that I had bought nothing etc., I was still asked to pull into the customs section and have one of the officials check my car. Perhaps they were just doing one of their spot checks: J don’t know but I did know that they would find nothing and so 1 waited patiently while they went through my car with shelf of sauvignon blancs that reads “From the first sniff, one is impressed by the precise, deep but never bombastic aromas in which green apple and crenshaw melon scents and by a creamy, vanillin accent of oak, and it is wonderfully balanced on the palate with ripe richness set off by firming acids and brightness.” Talk like that’s enough to drive a person to drink. Wine talk doesn’t have to be boring or pretentious. Someone once had the wit to describe a new Zinfandel as a 'De Gaulle' wine. Which is to say, ‘tall, with an earthy nose, but slightly dead'. The Canadian possibilities are intriguing. We could have a Marty McSorley Merlot ('surreptitious.... sneaks up, blindsides you and leaves you for dead’). A Chretien Champagne ('renders you speechless in both official languages’). Raymond Canon The International Scene the expected results. In a couple of minutes I was on my way. If you are in Europe, you may be surprised to cross a border and find that there is neither customs nor immigration checks. In fact, you hardly have to slow down. This is due to what is called the Schlengen agreement, ■ which means that some of the Western European countries have decided to eliminate all the usual formalities of crossing a border. The first time I ran into this was when I went from Austria to Germany on the Autobahn north from Innsbruck to Munich. It seemed strange to see all the buildings closed right down but it was nice not to lose any time in crossing a border. Letters to the Editor Letters to the editor are a forum for public opinion and comment. The views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of this publication. THE EDITOR, To the person driving on Dinsley Street on Monday, June 19 in the afternoon - the animal you hit was a family pet and the child who owned that pet was there watching when it happened. You could have had the decency to stop to see what you had run over. I know when animals run out in front of cars you sometimes can’t help it, and accidents do happen, but a kind word to the child might have been the proper thing to do. Just to let you know the cat did suffer for quite a while and I had to make a hard decision to put him down. To you, it might have been just another animal, but to my kids it was part A BC Chateauneuf de NDP (‘Bat, tasteless, soon to be discontinued'). A Sheila Copps Catawba ('sharp, with a bitter aftertaste...) - oh, but we've already got Newfie Screech. I think it would be wise if wine tasters developed a sense of humour before the rest of the world dies laughing at their preposterous solemnity. They might also want to invest in a decent translation service The following appeared on the label of a shipment of Allozo Crianza, a red wine made in Tomelloso, Spain and (at last report) sold in select liquor stores across Canada: “Sensorial tasting. Allonzo Crianza has a deep, obscure, red and cherry colour, with a good cloak, clean and brilliant with reflexes of medium evolution that show tiles. It has aromas of breeding, prevailing new wood over an elegant and perfumed bottom of spices, and matured black fruits well united and with balsamic memories. It is vivid on the tongue, with a great acidity very well integrated, a solid, full, silky, and greasy way, and a tasty and well-structured final. It is large and retronasal.” Sounds suspiciously like a winetaster who forgot to spit and rinse. On the other hand, the first time I went into the Czech Republic, I found getting out harder than getting in. I went in by train; they asked a couple of questions and that was all. On the way out a few months later, this time by car, it took much longer to get out of the country than it did to get into Austria. The Austrians, I surmised, worked on the assumption that, if the Czechs felt it was safe to let a person out, it was certainly okay to let him or her into Austria. When I asked my Czech friends about this afterwards, they replied that some of the procedures developed during the cold war were so ingrained, they had not yet got around to doing away with them. I can vouch for that, having gone into Czechoslovakia at the height of the cold war. Finally, it never does any harm to take your passport with you, even if only driving to the United States. I was asked for it once at Detroit when I was going to a wedding in Ann Arbour. To make matters more interesting, I even had to declare the value of the wedding gift. At least they didn’t ask to see my invitation! of the family. A big thank you Ella Ives who picked up the cat and watched over it. Tracy Cook. I---------- i Final Thought Do all the good you can, By all the means you can. In all the ways you can, In all the places you can. At all the times you can, To all the people you can. As long as ever you can. - John Wesley's Rule Bonnie The short of it Celebrate Canada! Canada Day 28 years ago was, you might say, my first labour day. After making my July 1 holiday a bit intense to say the least, my infant son made a grand debut in the early morning hours of July 2. Thus the celebration of our country’s birthday as intended has in the years since, been diminshed by this personally portentous event. However, in the new millenium, a milestone which has come with no small degree of introspection and retrospection, it is perhaps appropriate that two recent occurrences this past week caused me to revisit the national event for the year 2000. More accurately, they brought to mind the blessings of being Canadian. Amidst high gas prices, government cuts, health care, education and environmental concerns, we often take for granted what is good about this country. When we look at the alternatives, we should proudly proclaim Oh Canada as our home and native land. Last week I attended two theatre productions. Each was titled for its main character, both of whom were girls, both named Anne. Both were precocious, bright youngsters, whom we see altered by time and circumstance. And there the similarities end. The first production was Stratford Avon Theatre's mounting of The Diary of Anne Frank. They did a superb job of creating what life would be like under the shadow not just of war, but of the loss of democratic rights. The ethnic cleansing of Jews in Europe during the second world war, despite our knowing, despite its replication in other countries even today, occupies a comer of the mind wherein we store the surreal. We are aware, but cur understanding of sucn heinous deeds lies far away from our realities. Certainly, bigotry and hatred exist in orr world but they truly cannot compare. Thus sitting in the theatre, thinking about being forced indoors, your way of life ripped from you, in constant fear of discovery, was a reality check. Then at Blyth Festival was Anne, based on the popular Green Gables character of Canadian lore. Though an orphan, Anne is adopted by a loving family. Her passage into adolescence was one of brightness while the former, bom into a close-knit, caring family came of age in the cramped, dark, drafty attic, she and seven others called home for 25 months, day and night. While the non-fictional Anne saw sunshine only through windows and was forced to remain as quiet as a mouse during the day, Canada’s Anne grew up in a place of such lush beauty its very image brings springtime to your cheeks. There were no bombs or sirens, but rather room to run, fresh air and sunshine to breathe and soak in. Her world was one of simplicity, her unbedeviled existence, carefree innocence and open spirit synonymous with the land on which she thrived. It's interesting how easily we take the pleasure of living in this country for granted. It is, from coast to coast, everything that nature could offer. For the majority life is good, easy, unfettered by worries of conflict, disease, abject poverty. And even for those not among this number there is usually hope opportunities for growth and better ways. To consider all of this, what we have, this Saturday we should proudly celebrate Canada.