Intern Life Outside the Winery

My friend, John, who works full-time but is a burgeoning home winemaker with his backyard Syrah vineyard (armed with UC Davis knowledge and a potato masher as a grape crusher) noted that my blog was stuck on my third post.  So, for you, John, I'm writing this next update tonight, even though I'm half-dead after an 11-hour day at the winery (we just brought in our first grapes of the 2011 harvest today: a small block of Estate Chardonnay), and half-drunk after an impromptu tasting at a winery in town after a grocery run.

I've been meaning to write about life outside the winery, namely because I think I can kiss it goodbye now that we're starting to bring in fruit.  But first I wanted to focus a bit more on the housing situation:

You'd think in Napa, which must need hundreds of harvest interns, there'd be a plethora of short-term housing options -- like maybe there would be a giant dormitory, or a high school gymnasium we could sleep in, or -- heaven forbid -- wineries would provide housing at a cost for their interns.  Unfortunately, as Napa is a major upscale vacation destination, short-term temporary housing is almost impossible to find.  I used Craigslist for the first time and feel lucky to have found one room to rent in a two-bedroom house, where I share a bathroom and kitchen with the owner.  First, I'm only here for two months, and most landlords want a minimum of three months; also, the location is great, as I'm in St. Helena, which is central in the valley and only 10 minutes away from my winery.  While the city of Napa has more available and affordable housing, it's 30 minutes to the south, and, thanks to all the winos who come here for tastings, traffic on the two-lane highway can be nothing short of a parking lot, especially on weekends.  To highlight the difference between Wall Street and wine intern life once again, take a gander at my current living space:

Home sweet room in St. Helena

Yes, folks, that is a double bed, and yes, that is my blankie that I brought with me from Venice Beach.  Contrast this with the room at the hotel I used to stay in whenever visiting my recent Wall Street mothership in Manhattan.  Mind you, this is the living room of my hotel room; you're not seeing the bedroom, bathroom, or wardrobe area.  Rooms at the London NYC, are generously-sized, especially for Manhattan.  Not to mention that on every stay, the London's staff would spoil me with fruit and chocolates in my room and extra booze if I ate at the bar, plus I would run into the likes of Mario Lopez or that curly-haired skinny guy from Glee whenever I exited the elevator.  But don't worry, I'm over it.

My luxurious London NYC hotel living room

OK, on to intern nightlife!

I know I'm not a college student anymore, but when in Rome...  I had heard from a 24-year old former harvest intern, John, (yes, at the tender age of 24, he has moved on to a career in wine marketing) that Thursday night was "intern" night at Ana's Cantina here in St. Helena.  I had emailed John before I moved, when I was considering renting a room in his place in south Napa, and, while I ultimately didn't become his tenant, I did suggest we meet up during my stay.  And what better place than his former stomping ground and bastion of intern fun, Ana's Cantina.

The infamous Ana's Cantina in St. Helena

Ana's has been described by Yelpers as "a dive bar," "a BOMB ASS bar" (I'm assuming that's a positive review) and "the only bar" in St. Helena.  I can attest from my Thursday night experience that it's a mix of all three.  I guess it's the intern hangout because it's the only affordable place on the main drag of pricey St. Helena -- they only serve beer for dinner.  John explained to me that all newbies to Ana's must A) stick a dollar bill onto the 10-foot ceiling, and B) sing karaoke.  For those of you who know me well, you'll know that, for me, "A" was much more difficult than "B," since you don't have to get me liquored up for me to open my pie hole and start singing.  Aim, however, is not one of my strong points.  Thankfully, however, when my dollar bill (wrapped around a roll of duct-taped quarters and with a thumbtack poking through) ricocheted off the ceiling and into a crowd of beer-drinking interns, no one lost an eyeball.  My second launch was successful, and that, plus my karaoke rendition of Madonna's "Like a Virgin," made for what I think was a crowd-pleasing intern night at Ana's.  Will I be back?  Not if I have better options on a Thursday night, although I do realize this is the only bar St. Helena.

My dollar is up there somewhere!

Aside from Ana's, what may well be my only weekend off during my harvest internship was made up of what I believe is integral to every intern: mooching.  My amazing parents, who live just two hours south of Napa Valley, drove up under the pretext of having lunch with me on Saturday, although really I think it was to make sure I hadn't lost my mind and that I wasn't living with the Unabomber.  I had asked my parents to bring towels, tupperware, and a coffee mug (hellooooo freshman year at Stanford!); they outdid themselves and brought what every loving Chinese parent does: food!  Before I left for Napa, Dad even tried to give me money.  I nearly cried.  I of course didn't accept the cash, but give me a few months of living on Capt'n Crunch and sardines on toast, and I think I may learn to swallow my pride.  Anyway, they treated me and my fellow wine intern, M, to a lovely lunch at Cindy's Backstreet Kitchen here in St. Helena before driving home.

Lunch with Mom, Dad, and M at Cindy's Backstreet Kitchen

That evening, John, (the former wine intern whom I had met on Thursday at Ana's Cantina) invited me to crash a UVA alumni event at the winery where he had once worked as an intern.  Never mind that neither of us went to UVA -- John said his former boss told him there was an interesting guest speaker and that there would be decent (read: free) wines poured.  Thus began my weekend of party crashing and mooching off people other than my parents.  After hearing the speaker describe Viriginia wines and his vineyards at Monticello, I moved quickly to what was left of the free Failla, Zahtila, and Round Pond wines, nodding and smiling at UVA alums and shouting, "Go, Cavs!" at anyone and everyone.  When that event was done, I checked in with my friend, Tara, whom I had met when I still had money and was a diner at the restaurant in downtown Napa at which she worked.  Tara had told me earlier that day that she would be attending a wedding in St. Helena.  By pure chance, I happened to know the happy couple -- I'd met them both last year at the winery at which Lauren, the bride, was working.  The wedding reception was held at her husband's family winery, Kelham Vineyards.  I arrived just as the wedding singer (an Elton John impersonator who had been dropped onto the estate via helicopter after the ceremony) was finishing his act.  Fireworks were bursting over the winery, giving me enough light to grab a glass of Kelham Merlot with one hand and a plate of strawberry shortcake in the other, and to set off searching for Tara.  Having quickly found her, I ate, danced and drank into the wee hours of the morning with the other lucky guests.  Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, eat your hearts out.

I have become a wedding crasher.  Congrats, Ron & Lauren!

Sunday completed the trifecta of my party-crashing: Tara had invited me to join her at her Mom's place at the Silverado Country Club, where we would then walk to a few local wineries.  I arrived at the appointed time, only to find out I had crashed a birthday party for Tara's mom.  Despite my horror that I had arrived to a party empty-handed, I quickly felt welcomed by Tara's lovely family and got over my shame with a few glasses of wine at two tasting rooms nearby: Whetstone and Del Dotto.  If you haven't driven up the Silverado Trail, which runs through Napa Valley parallel to the much more crowded Highway 29, it is one of the most beautiful roads I've had the pleasure of driving.  The ride home from the Silverado Country Club -- with the rose-colored sun setting over the hills of green vineyards -- reminded me how lucky I am.

 The trifecta of my party crashing: a birthday tasting for Tara's Mom at Whetstone

This weekend reinforced my strange transition from Wall Street to wine.  I am so used to picking up the check for clients and to treating friends and family to meals...as well as for paying for tickets at wine events!  I can't say I'm 100% used to it, yet.  But, Mom and Dad, if you're reading this, A) you are the best parents a girl could ask for and B) you know where I live if you want to drive up with more food.