Visiting Bodegas Wineries Pisco makers out of Ica Peru
So we hail a cab and get a ride to our first Bodegas.
At first I am alone. Waiting for an English speaking guide.
He finally arrives, and is sporting more Australian brand names on his clothes than I have seen in a long time, especially as we are on the other side of the world.
As I sit, I watch the staff laboriously hand glue labels and line them up perfectly on each bottle.
Now this is a large winery, so I am pretty shocked at this.
We venture outside, and I am amazed at the vineyards that are so old.
I am told this winery is the oldest in the area – 400 years!
We go to the area where the press the grapes with their feet. This wooden press takes 4 men to turn the wooden screw to lower the press. It is the original press.
We then find out that the Pisco is the name of the pottery jars. These are made in the region of Pisco nearby, and therefore how the drink has got its name.
Next we go to Lazo.
Now this place has my interest.
It is way down a dirt road.
It is a museum, and a big pile of collections of telephones, trunks, old gramophones and stereos, and well everything under the sun.
Much of it is left to rot. A collector would have a fit at the lack of care of thousands of antiques and collectibles.
Alligator and snake-skins, tortoise shells and the list goes on.
My guide comes, and well he is fun.
He grabs a bamboo pole and I can “pull” my own amount of sampling wine.
And as much as I like.
Then a plate of nibbles comes out for my son to enjoy.
I chose a small leather covered bottle, and am told to “suck the hose”.
Well I never!
So I fail miserably, and I am concerned about germs and my sore throat, so I fake it and he takes over.
He fills my bottle with “perfect love”. Wine only to be shared with my future perfect love he tells me.
I wonder how aged it will be when I finally get to drink it!
Dating is not something that is easy to do when you are a single Mum. And an older one traveling at that too. It is not like the man of my dreams has flung himself at my feet – yet! Though we have met a few men we would call “sticky”. Not of my choice, and won’t leave me alone.
Last on our list is Tacoma.
When we arrive here we are told very curtly to wait 20 minutes. Then if no-one arrives they will give me a private tour. I have to submit my passport number. The taxi drive who made a deal with us is telling us to hurry up. Well, he can wait as I know he is getting more than what I could have paid for local taxis.
But my son finds a trampoline, so even though it is hot, he has a great wait.
No-one arrives, so the lady comes out in all purple, and marches us off for the tour.
We enjoyed seeing the plant nursery, and really, the grounds were so gorgeous.
It is an old convent, and then a monastery, and the colours and garden are incredible.
They also have some race horses.
There is a great display of machinery.
The notices are in English, and my son wants to read and test each one, so this takes ages.
But he is genuinely interested, and as we now world-school, it is all a great education.
He is particularly interested in the countries that made the different machinery, and why.
I bought a couple of souvenirs, a nice bottle of wine for dinner, and wandered back up to the taxi quite happy and relaxed.