Had I made a different decision, things would have been fine, but not much would have changed. Instead, I have opted for the road less traveled, certainly for a 24-year old girl from New Jersey. I have come to the west coast – to Napa Valley to be exact – to embark on an open-ended journey into the world of wine, food and a more peaceful existence. What I have left behind: a blossoming career with a top investment bank in New York. What's to come: endless possibilities.
I'll be working for a wine marketing agency and forging roots in an industry completely foreign to me; though I'm in my own country, I may as well be on a different planet. I've only been here a few days and already the differences between east and west coast life are incredibly transparent. For lack of a more eloquent turn of phrase, things are more chilled out here. People relax – and they're friendly! Imagine that, New Yorkers.
Already I'm realizing that I'm at a disadvantage to those who have been brought up here. While I have studied wine in textbooks, taken exams and tasted (a LOT), my experience is no comparison for growing up in a wine-producing area. Napa's livelihood is wine and food. It's not a hobby – it's a lifestyle.
Yet, I am told that modesty is the key here. Many transplants waltz in like they know all there is to know. I'm not about to pretend I know it all. In fact, I'm the first to admit that I know very little. That's why I'm here. I have a lot to learn.
And so, as I take in my new surroundings, I toast to (as my mom says) the first day of the rest of my life. I'm toasting with a Domaine Chandon Brut, courtesy of my new roommate, Nathalie, who has also recently arrived in the area from France. My other roommates: Gary, a chef, and Dan, an oenophile with roots in sales, restaurants and soon-to-be harvest.
I'll be working for a wine marketing agency and forging roots in an industry completely foreign to me; though I'm in my own country, I may as well be on a different planet. I've only been here a few days and already the differences between east and west coast life are incredibly transparent. For lack of a more eloquent turn of phrase, things are more chilled out here. People relax – and they're friendly! Imagine that, New Yorkers.
Already I'm realizing that I'm at a disadvantage to those who have been brought up here. While I have studied wine in textbooks, taken exams and tasted (a LOT), my experience is no comparison for growing up in a wine-producing area. Napa's livelihood is wine and food. It's not a hobby – it's a lifestyle.
Yet, I am told that modesty is the key here. Many transplants waltz in like they know all there is to know. I'm not about to pretend I know it all. In fact, I'm the first to admit that I know very little. That's why I'm here. I have a lot to learn.
And so, as I take in my new surroundings, I toast to (as my mom says) the first day of the rest of my life. I'm toasting with a Domaine Chandon Brut, courtesy of my new roommate, Nathalie, who has also recently arrived in the area from France. My other roommates: Gary, a chef, and Dan, an oenophile with roots in sales, restaurants and soon-to-be harvest.
Tonight, we're barbecuing in our backyard, next to the pool, overlooking the vines, adjacent to the garden and the peach trees (one yellow, two white). “Surreal.” That's the word I keep using to describe my experience after only a week here. It's hard to believe this is real life, my life.
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