The Decibel Story; How A Glass of Wine Lead to A Move Across the World

Daniel Brennan, or “Decibel Dan” as he’s better known, was born in Syracuse, New York, and raised near Philadelphia. He is one of 5 children in a Catholic family, and with his mother having ties to Europe and Italy, plus the family diner, Sicilian food and wine culture was his normal.

His Great Aunt and Uncle owned a beer and shot bar in what Dan describes as “a rough hood.” He says, “I remember going as a kid at 10.00am, and it was packed from the night shift workers. It was busy all day and all night.” Dan’s Uncle, who had been living in France, returned to the States when Dan was 16. At the time, his Great Aunt and Uncle were looking to sell the bar, so his parents and uncle purchased it together and transformed it into an Irish Pub featuring Mediterranean cuisine. Dan began working there, at McCrossens Tavern, and dabbled in almost every role, from dishwasher, to front of house, working in the kitchen and bar tending. McCrossens exposed him to quality made beers and wines, and Dan sunk into the cosmopolitan environment of the city. Dan’s first memorable experiences with wine follow a common thread: Martinborough Pinot Noir. He tried a Palliser Estate, a Dry River and a Martinborough Vineyards Pinot Noir, and he says he can still feel the experience of the wines stopping him in his tracks, making him think, “what was that?”

When I asked Dan what some of his other favourite wines are, he responded with, “Italian whites.” The reason is because “they’re so good at it.” He mentioned they’ve been making many styles of wines for thousands of years, across so many regions. “There are a billion varietals; it’s almost a cop out,” he said as he laughed. He recalls drinking an Italian wine across 4 days and noticing that it got better every day. “It made me reconsider everything I was doing. They thought about it as a different kind of drink. It was way too good to be an accident.”

After he graduated high school, Dan went on to study Political Science and Philosophy at The Catholic School of America in D.C. Although Dan’s study aligned with his interest in Philosophy, Politics and History, life eventually led him to another industry, and it wasn’t wine just yet. A childhood friend of Dan’s sent him the first CD he’d produced with his band and asked if Dan would help organize a bar gig for them. He agreed, and it proved both enjoyable and successful; he was asked to organize again the following year, and then eventually to manage the band. He managed Seeking Homer for 6 years, touring North America with them until he was 27 years old. Dan came away from that experience with some amazing memories; the band played with big names like Maroon 5, but also some of Dan’s “musical heroes,” Levon Helm, David Johansen, Richie Havens, David Byrne and Ryan Adams.

Eventually, touring life took its toll on everyone, and with the increasing popularity of sites like Napster, the landscape of selling albums changed. Dan transitioned back home, and began working part time at McCrossens while studying in Philly. He got into WSET courses, and doing beer and wine tastings, but wanted to leave hospitality, due to the unsustainable lifestyle. He decided to go to wine school, brush up on his chemistry and read anything wine related he could get his hands on. His research drew him to both cool climate and up-and-coming regions. Dan commented on the impression that having his Uncle live in France had left with him. “The idea that your Uncle lives in France says to you, ‘well I can do that.’ It opens your world.” With that little nudge of inspiration towards an international life, and Dan’s ongoing relationship with New Zealand Pinot Noir, he knew where he had to go to pursue his wine passions. It was 2008 when he arrived in New Zealand, and although he moved to the country because of Martinborough Pinot Noir, he settled in Hawke’s Bay to attend EIT for Wine Science. Ironically, he notes “I moved to Hawke’s Bay without having tasted a wine from there. I’ll never forget the bus ride into Napier thinking it sure was smaller.”

Dan’s purpose in New Zealand was clear, so it’s not surprising that he wasted no time in starting his label. He purchased grapes in 2009, and had the concept of Decibel in his mind, aiming to produce New Zealand’s famous Sauvignon Blanc, and one you may not expect, Malbec. His nickname, that ultimately inspired his label, “Decibel Dan” grew out of his signature when he was managing the band. He used to spend time with the sound crew before every show, and would sign off with his initials, dB. dB was already taken as a label, but fortunately, the simple yet significant word he now uses was available, and Decibel was created.

Even though he didn’t originally plan on being in Hawke’s Bay, he’s come to love it for simple reasons, like the fact that it’s the second largest region in the country, a great place to live near the ocean, and that it suits him more than Martinborough would have. More importantly, he recognizes how special the Hawke’s Bay is as a wine producing region. “It’s a great place to learn how to make wine because we do so many great wines well. Other places don’t give you the exposure.” Although he will always love Martinborough Pinot, Dan comments how “we make everything else here. Aromatic whites, big reds. I think it’s the best place in the world to make wine.”

He’s put his time in working in the Bay, with planning weddings and restaurant work at Te Awa in 2008, where he was fortunate to work alongside Jenny Dobson in the winery here and there. He did his first vintage at Te Awa that year. In 2009 he did vintage at Vidal, and says it was not high tech, but “hard work. You had to think on your feet.” From 2010 to 2013, he was the Assistant Winemaker at Unison, and then moved onto Assistant Winemaker at Paritua from 2013 to 2017. He was running Decibel along the way, always doing Malbec, and some vintages of Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Noir. Dan’s not one to add anything to his wines, like acid or sugars, and that’s another reason why he loves making wine in the Hawke’s Bay. “We have natural acidity; typically, we don’t have to add acid and that’s a great start. We don’t have to add sugar either.”

Hawke’s Bay is now home to his family. Dan met his partner, Mara, at one of his famous “Kiwi’s Giving Dinners” in May 2012, that he holds in honour of American Thanksgiving. One of his friends sent him a text right before the dinner asking if she could bring her friend along. Dan agreed, and when he met Mara, he describes their connection as being “instant.” They have a five-year-old daughter, Cecila, named after the Patron Saint of Music, and pronounced in the Italian way, who they endearingly call “Chechy.” They have plans to get married in Italy when they’re able.

Dan’s got a few different labels within his company. Under the Decibel label, you will now find 5 single vineyard wines, including a Martinborough Pinot and a Malbec. His label Giunta, after his grandmother’s maiden name, features 3 young and fresh wines, one of which is a Nouveau style Malbec, and then, there’s Testify.

The birth of Testify came with an exceptional parcel of 2016 Malbec. He put it in a new puncheon, and neutral barriques, and recalls its purity of fruit. Dan said it was so special, he knew it had to be a new label. The name has roots in a song by one of his favourite bands, The Band, founded by Robbie Robertson and Levon Helm. The band also happened to finish in the same year Dan was born. They were largely influential to him for most of his life and have produced one of his favourite albums of all time. One of Robbie Robertson’s solo albums features a song called “Testimony”. He’s named his wine after the song because to him, it represents the testimony of the quality of that wine. “I put my hand on my heart. It’s my best effort. I put my name on it. I promise you, this is my best. I won’t make it if it’s not up to crack. And that’s fine.” For the Testify label, Dan only focuses on the best appellations that have a story to be told. It is a label that is close to his heart. The Testify line features a Gimblett Gravels Malbec/Merlot blend, a Martinborough Pinot Noir, and a Hawke’s Bay Chardonnay.

Malbec isn’t one of the main varietals that comes to mind when most people think of New Zealand wine, so why did Dan go with a Malbec right from the start, and why does he still include it in all 3 of his labels? “I’ve always loved it. It has a similar acid and flavour profile as Syrah, yet it’s easier to grow. With a learning curve and effort, it can grow well. I think I’ve proven a point. Great wine can be made from Malbec. Gordon Russel has proven that. It’s inherently more interesting than Merlot. It’s got plush juiciness, colour, tannin and acid. It’s a fun thing to make every year.”

Dan sources his roughly 80 tonnes of fruit from a few different vineyards in Hawke’s Bay and Martinborough. He works with several growers and has been consistent with some of them since 2011. He uses organic fruit and wants to support organic growers in the Bay. Part of the reason for that is because he’s learned to “take a breath. Let’s do it right. What we’re doing affects our life and everyone’s. Have some perspective.” He dreams of having a biodynamic home and hopes that more growers will move in that direction. “Organics is important. It makes sense. I can’t believe other people don’t go that route. People think it’s an easy path to not go organic. I get it; it can be scary, but it doesn’t make sense to me any other way. I’m not dogmatic about the way you do it. It just seems crazy not to. Why would you think you can do it better than the great designer has done it? It’s tapping into the right way. It goes back to music. I left myself open to writing that song. Conventional is not leaving themselves open to the possibilities. Nature can manage better than us. It’s scary, but we have to let nature take its course.” He refers to conventional vineyard practices, and says, “I wouldn’t want my kid around it.”

Giunta Chenin Blanc sourced from
Two Terraces Vineyard

Although only 60% of Decibel is exported now (due to an amazing local distributor) Dan started his label in an uncommon position, as a 100% export label. If you remember his connections, he just so happened to have one main client lined up in the States, his family restaurant. He’s thrilled that his wine is selling in New Zealand now, but he also loves the unique opportunity he has to share his wine back home. “The best is when I get a message from someone I grew up with or knew from the past. People I have no idea who they are, saying ‘I just tasted this wine and it’s delicious,’ and they’re putting it online. Someone in Brooklyn saying it’s awesome. I’m the guy that gets to bring Hawke’s Bay Malbec to America? That blows my mind. I get to, through the wine, tell people on the other side of the world that there’s this cool place called Hawke’s Bay in New Zealand.”

Dan being Dan in the vineyard!

Dan’s been challenged along the way, in finding fruit that’s up to what he’s looking for. Additionally, he speaks of the all too familiar financial and marketing challenges that many boutique producers face, and says he wishes EIT taught more on business. Although he’s been on the receiving end of great advice from fellow producers through the years, he was unaware going into his label just how financially challenging it could be. It took him 10 years to be able to make the jump into doing solely Decibel, and he wishes there was “bigger dialogue about how much cash is tied up in your wine.” Pinot Noir, his first love, also keeps him up at night. He’s still passionate about the difficult to grow variety, and often finds himself wondering what he’s going to do with it.

Wine life has given Dan a harvest of inspirational lessons. First, he told me, “just do it. Most of the time they’re not going to stop you.” How true of life; sometimes we just need to take that risk that most of us are too afraid to take. Secondly, he has learned to “live life by the season. Have a flow to the year. When it’s time to relax, relax.” Dan described his Catholic upbringing and agreed that he does have traditional roots in a sense. “Friends, social, family, we’re part of something much bigger. I have no idea what it is, but there’s something cosmic about it.” He talked about how he loves the busy season of harvest, but says, “there is receipt for that. There’s a natural flow to it. Flow, seasons, it’s all cyclical and natural. That was not part of my life in New York or Philly; it was go go go. There wasn’t a rhythm. It’s so important to slow down. Some people don’t have a flow, and it’s easy to get lost. It’s good to have boundaries.” He also loves the comradery in the industry and speaks highly of the Hawke’s Bay wine community. “It’s the people. Talking about all of the things we do. We’re in it together; talk through it. There’s not a point of making wine in isolation.”

Music has always been a meaningful part of Dan’s life, and he credits a few important business lessons to his time managing the band. “I released a couple studio albums with them. It primed me for the idea of getting a wine finished and put out.” Through those experiences, he understood that “it makes sense to take your time and get it right. It’s a captured moment in time. People go on about the parallels of music and wine. The real part is the art and craft. Some are great artists. Some great song writers. Some are both. It’s the same in the wine industry. Some are technical winemakers. Some are artistic. Some have both.” Dan explains that sometimes, wines may not be considered technically right by certain critics but believes that more importantly, they should be loved when they’re consumed. “That’s what I prefer; it should be like song writing.”

When I asked Dan if it’s all worth it, he responded with, “I don’t have a choice. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

To learn more or purchase Decibel wines, visit https://www.decibelwines.com or follow on Instagram @decibelwines.

Level 2 Feels and Rambles

Level 2 has arrived. It felt like it would never come, but here we are.

As of 11.59pm on Wednesday 13th May, we’ve entered into another new way of life. It’s not normal life, and certainly not close to it either. We’re still very much living cautiously, and I hope the rest of the country remains vigilant so we don’t have to go back to Level 3 or 4.

When we left Level 2 on the way up, I had all these dreams of what I thought I was going to do, or want to do, as soon as lockdown was over. I wasn’t that worried and hadn’t processed the reality of the pandemic. I hate to admit this, but I got my nails done only hours before hitting lockdown with little concern about who I was coming into contact with. I naively went to several supermarkets to find the chocolate I wanted without thinking about all the possible places I could have picked up the virus or spread it around. I’m surprised at how cautious and reserved I feel now.

Coming into Level 2 on this side, I felt guilty for being on the road the first time we went for a drive. I decided to wait a couple of weeks to get my nails done, “just in case,” and I’m in no hurry to book other non-essential appointments. I find I’m still wanting to limit my interaction with people I haven’t seen since before lockdown, because it’s just that many less people I’ll have been in contact with if this goes belly up in a week or two. I was happy to book a dinner out, but only once I found out how the establishment was being Covid safe. I’m excited to get back to the gym, but only now that I’ve been reassured of the lengths they are going to in order to protect us while we’re there. And most surprising of all, I’ve found I’ve had to be intentional about making social plans because I know it’s good for me.

They say it takes 21 days to form a habit. We were in complete isolation for 33 days, followed by another 14 of near isolation. We’ve not been socializing for 47 days. We have formed a habit of disconnection and isolation.

Even once we moved to Level 3 and were permitted to expand our bubble by one household, we arranged our expansion, but never did anything about it. Maybe it was partly because it somehow still felt wrong, or maybe because it would have taken effort that we’re no longer used to putting forth.

Sometimes, I feel too lazy to make plans. It’s easier to just stay home. I don’t have to get ready, or even get up! I’m used to being at home now. I can stick to my own routine. I know myself though, and I’m a social person who is definitely in need of some real face to face interaction. I need to push myself past the laziness and start getting back to the parts of real life we’re permitted to be doing. I need to interact with people in a social setting. I was so socially busy before; I only stayed home if I had to. Now, it’s been surreal to notice that new struggle to motivate myself.

An object in motion wants to stay in motion, right? And one that’s stopped, well that takes some extra force to get it going again.

I’ve also learned that I’ve formed some negative associations with socializing. I feel like I’m doing something wrong if I hug someone, or go to a friend’s house. I have to remind myself that this is now okay; it’s actually healthy. There is so much more to health than just the physical realm, and it’s time to start caring about the mental, emotional and relational parts of my health.

I’m observing a whole range of responses to the newest change in levels. There are those people that have always acted like it was a level more casual than it was, and there are those acting like we’re still in lockdown now. I suppose people need to take things at their own pace, within the government recommendations, and do what they’re comfortable with. I do wonder though, if we’ll ever get back to how life was before. I think not.

Even if a vaccine is created in the next year or so, by then, people will be so used to social distancing and limiting their interactions that they may never go fully back to pre-Covid life. On the radio they were speaking about a process we’ve all adopted called “nesting.” We’ve set ourselves up in our homes and we’re good to go. We can work from home and shop online and have things delivered, so why do we need to go out anymore?

Covid has affected every single one of us. The way we interact is likely forever changed. I was reminded recently that I’m in a country that’s a lot better off than many others. We feel hopeful within New Zealand because we are feeling the benefits of going hard and fast. The rest of the world isn’t where we are. We can’t drop our guards yet. During a business update by my company’s CEO, he discussed how the way we do business has changed, likely forever. The way our countries govern and how they relate to each other has changed, which will affect travel, trade, and the world economy. People are spending differently because they’ve lost jobs, which is changing the products they want, and the markets to produce those products. Covid has a domino effect that reaches into every arena of our lives.

What parts of Covid are going to stay with us for the foreseeable future?

Nobody has the answers. Sometimes it feels like we’re all on a train that’s out of control and we can’t get off. Or I have flashbacks to an amusement park ride that I’m trapped on and it’s scary and uncomfortable but it’s going and I just have to wait till it’s over, pray it doesn’t fall apart and hope I don’t puke or pass out. We’re in this for the long haul, whether we like it or not.

There’s a lot to think about right now. Most of it’s not certain. Every now and again I have these “what if” moments, where my stomach drops and I get that feeling like my heart’s in my throat. When I catch myself thinking those words over and over, “what if,” I’m reminded that I’m worrying. This is not productive to me in any way. What will be will be, regardless of my worry. In those moments, I need to remind myself of what keeps me calm. In those moments is where my faith becomes real.

We’re in this together, and I believe there’s a plan. And it’s going to be okay. I might be stuck on that scary ride, and I don’t know when it’s going to end, but I’m not alone on the ride. Or even though I can’t see ahead to where the train track goes, or what’s behind the next corner, I trust that we’re going to be alright.

It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to have questions. It’s okay to acknowledge whatever feelings we’re having. We’re human and our humanness is being put to the test. It’s okay to take this one day at a time. It’s okay to reach out!

So we’ll just keep on keeping on and see how this all unfolds. I hope you’re healthy and staying safe out there, readers.

Grief for the Losses

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I’ve been reflecting most recently on the things that have been lost to this pandemic, and about so many people experiencing losses. This article is my attempt at a small gesture of honour to all of you who have lost.

I think of my friends and sister who have graduated from university programmes they’ve been working at for years, who don’t get to celebrate in walking across that stage. Graduation is a rite of passage; it’s an important ceremony that marks a huge accomplishment. I think of those beginning their careers in the health fields, law enforcement, and other essential services, with this as their training ground.

I think of couples that have had to either cancel or postpone their weddings, or chose to marry with no venue of witnesses, no gathering of family and friends, no reception to follow. I think of those with other milestones to celebrate, that have all been cancelled.

I think of people who live alone, or those who had limited social connections prior to this that are now non-existent, or those who aren’t familiar with technology, who are struggling to connect with those in their lives. I think of those who are lonely.

I think of new mothers and fathers; one of my nieces was born just before this pandemic hit, and she is the first child in her family. Our siblings are working through being new parents without the support they expected and would have received under normal circumstances. We have a new niece or nephew who will be born in the midst of this, and more than one set of friends in New Zealand who are due with Baby Number 1 in the coming months. They’re facing all the same uncertainties that the rest of us are right now, with the added uncertainty of what the hospitals will be like for their births, and the reality of the world they’ll be bringing new life into.

I think of the grandparents, who want nothing more than to hold those perfect, beautiful new grand-babies, but can’t travel to where they are, or that can’t be within 2 metres of them and have to settle for a look across the room. I think of families of all kinds who are separated right now.

I think of people that are dealing with bigger health problems than Covid-19; it’s all we can think about, but there are just as many people who have recently been diagnosed with serious illnesses than there were before, who are grappling with their diagnosis and their new treatment plans, in and amongst the risks of the virus. There are those who have been battling illnesses for some time, and have the added worries of how this virus will complicate their already significant challenges of navigating the world with reduced immune function.

I think of those who are in hospital, and can’t have visitors anymore; I think of those who have died alone.

I think of those who were struggling to make ends meet, and are now out of work, like the hundreds of thousands of hospitality workers across the globe, just to name one example. I think of those who didn’t realize it was their last day at work, or those that have had to abruptly leave jobs. I think of small business owners who will never again open their doors.

I think of those who were on vacations they’d saved tirelessly for and dreamt of for years, who had to go back to a home country. I think of those who had “once-in-a-lifetime” experiences cut short or missed entirely. I think of those that never got the chance to take it all in, or to say goodbye.

These people have lost. They’ve lost ceremony and celebration. They’ve lost any sense of normalcy and tradition for some of the most important days of their lives. They’ve lost first experiences, and last experiences. They’ve lost the physical and practical touch and support of family. They’ve lost what little sense of predictability and assurance they could have been given in already challenging times. They’ve lost any feelings of stability, closure, safety or peace.

These things that have been lost can’t be given back. They’re just gone. These things can’t be changed. These are their stories now. These are their memories.

I’ve been contemplating the stages of grief.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

In past counselling sessions, I’ve learned that although these stages are commonly felt, they don’t necessarily come in the order we think they should, and once we’ve passed through one stage, it doesn’t mean we won’t go back there. The stages are more fluid. We may experience one stage multiple times, or several within a short period. The key is to allow ourselves to experience them as they come.

I read an article recently that addressed that many of us are grieving during this time. Maybe because grief is usually associated with a significant loss, like a death, maybe we think “grief” is too intense of a word for what we’re going through. Maybe we’ve not lost a life, or maybe we have. One thing is certain; we have lost. We’re grieving a lot of different things, big or small, because of Covid-19, and that’s okay. Grieving is not only normal, it’s healthy. If we want to come out of this with mental and emotional health on the other side, we need to face it and go through it. We need to feel what we’re feeling and not let guilt or shame push our emotions under the surface.

It’s not pretty. None of this is. Let’s admit it.

This sucks. Straight up.

This really f*cking sucks.

Most days I’m doing well. Other days I feel like swearing and complaining about how unfair this all is for so many people. I wonder why this is happening, and how long this will last. I wonder about the future. I’m so aware that I’m not in control of what happens, and that can be a really scary place to be, until I remember that I was never in control of what happens in the world any more than I am today; any sense of control I felt was an illusion brought on by my daily routines and plans gone right. Now, again, I must cling to the hope that there is someone who is in control of what’s going to come out of this, and that He can bring good out of it.

Can we please stop comparing our situations and be kind? It’s not helpful to respond to a person’s loss by saying that someone else’s loss is greater, or that everyone’s going through it. The fact that several others in the world are experiencing similar losses can bring comfort in knowing we’re not alone, but it doesn’t in any way negate the losses we have each suffered.

Loss can’t be quantified in the same measurements for everyone; it’s not equal. The same loss may seem manageable to me, yet insurmountable to deal with to someone else, and vice versa. Can we support each other instead of comparing or minimizing each other’s experiences? Can we lend a listening ear and communicate that we’ve heard and understood? Can we validate those who are brave enough to be vulnerable with us and thank them for sharing what they’re going through?

I’ll leave you with some quotes that have inspired me this week. The author speaks about how one thing we can control in uncertain times is our mind-set, how we choose to look at the world around us, and how we see the future.

Your internal mind-set designs your external world. If you believe the world is full of possibilities, it is… if you believe in love, you will find love. If you believe in hope, you will find hope. And the reason you will find them is because you will bring them with you.

When your mind is shaped by hope, you do not see simply two paths; you see an endless number of paths filled with opportunity, possibility and beauty. However, if your mind is shaped by cynicism, or fear or doubt, then the only paths you see in front of you are the ones that are filled with pain and disappointment, with failure and hardship.

Faith changes our perceptions of the future. Faith always sees a way… when we have confidence in things hoped for we are instantly connected to the future… when we have assurance in things seen, we are limited by what we have, by what we know, and by what we can prove. When we have assurance in things not seen, we now add to our resources everything that exists in the realm of mystery, uncertainty and endless possibilities.

– Erwin McManus; The Way of the Warrior

I don’t know anything about your faith, nor do I wish to push mine on you; however, I chose today to have faith on behalf of all of you reading this, that things are going to get better for all of us, and that good will come out of this for you.

I have hope that opportunity and strength are going to come to all those beginning their careers as nurses, doctors, and law enforcement officers in the middle of a pandemic, and to those looking to restart somewhere new.

I have hope that beauty is going to come to all those who missed moments of ceremony, firsts, lasts, the chance to say goodbye, and to those facing health difficulties aside from Covid-19.

I have hope that endless possibilities are going to come again, once this is behind us.

Tomorrow I may need another mind-set adjustment or a reminder to stay positive and hopeful, but today, I choose to put my hope in a future with opportunity, beauty and endless possibilities. I like that a lot better than the other option.

I wish you a future of beautiful, endless possibilities, reader!

Time is a Gift

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I watched a movie called Collateral Beauty this week, in which the main character, Howard, faces a tough situation. He grapples with love, death and time throughout the storyline; Time, the character, comes to visit him and calls him out by saying that time is a gift and he shouldn’t waste it.

Seeing that film helped remind me that I can change my perspective on this 4 week isolation period.

Time is a gift.

There are tens of thousands of people in the world already, who have suddenly run out of time. This virus has taken all the time they thought they had left; their time is up. Time is a gift. We never know how much we have left.

We, in New Zealand, have just been given 4 weeks of time (maybe longer); for those who are healthy and able, we can use this time in ways we usually never do. Wherever you are in the world, your time frame may be different, but you’ve likely been given some time too.

How often do we go through our busy lives, putting off so many things we say we want to do, or know we need to do, using the excuse that we don’t have time.

We don’t have time to catch up with this person or that person, or to listen or connect with our partners or families.

We don’t have time to read that book, or write that article, or paint that picture.

We don’t have time to do something spiritual, read our Bibles, meditate, pray, do yoga, or whatever we’d like to do for our spiritual health.

We don’t have time to exercise, or stretch or get some fresh air.

We don’t have time to catch up on the rest we so desperately need but never prioritize.

Well now we have the time.

We can’t connect in person, no, but we can connect via phone and social apps. We can connect face to face with those in our households, like our partners and our families, and spend more quality time with them.

We can also choose to waste these 4 weeks, or get sucked into our phones until each day rolls into the next, or we can choose to set some goals we aspire to achieve. We can make this time useful. Valuable. Memorable. Meaningful. If we want to. It’s up to us.

We’ve been given this time to use in new ways.

What are you going to do with yours?

Level 3 and 4 Have Brought Me Here

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It’s too much to take in. It’s a lot to process. How are you all doing? My brain is running in a million directions right now. I’ve got so many thoughts I’m fighting to make sense of. Bear with me here. Reach out, please, and tell me how you are coping.

New Zealand has gone to Alert Level 3 today, with the advancement to Level 4 happening on Wednesday. The country will effectively shut down, with the exception of essential services, for 4 weeks. Or longer? No one knows. That’s the part that’s hard. The whole world is being challenged with this huge unknown. We are so human and so limited. Usually I sit on my blogs for a while before posting, but today, I’m processing with you as I write this.

My job. Do I even have one to go back to? How many people are going to be unemployed? Statistics are saying 10,000 people in retail jobs are going to be without work (rnz.co.nz). Already, over 30,000 businesses have applied for subsidies for their staff (nzherald.co.nz). Our country relies on tourism and it’s gone. It’s gone. Just like that. 8 days ago we had a Church Road Live concert with 400 people in our park. A cruise ship came in and a team member took a group on tour. 8 days ago. It feels like months ago.

Vintage 2020. Thankfully, the wine industry has been considered an essential service! There were a few hours today once we heard the announcement that we were going to Level 4 that we weren’t sure they would be permitted to continue working. Trying to imagine New Zealand without wine for 2020 is something I don’t even want to think about. Praise the Lord that they can continue bringing that fruit in and tending to those ferments. It’s a crucial industry for our country. We’re still awaiting specifics. Vintage 2020 will forever be a special, rare and valuable vintage to this world.

The future of our economy. How is this going to affect all of us? Will any of us be able to pay for our mortgages? Our rent? I went to the supermarket today and cued to get in. The shelves were bare. I did my best to adhere to the regulations they have put on food items, but still had items confiscated from me at the till. We are on rations. Rations. We are on rations. This is what you read about in WWII novels.

The 4 week isolation. I realize this is essential to stop the spread of the virus. And I realize that the physical benefits to stopping human contact outweigh the mental and emotional benefits to continuing it; however, there will still be mental effects that we will deal with in order to prioritize our physical needs of eliminating the spread of this virus, like those that come from lack of human contact.

Human contact is a basic human need. Seeing someone face to face. Hugging someone. Seeing their smile in person. Working side by side as a team. Celebrating together. These are all things that all of us crave and need in varying proportions. This virus is cutting off one of our most basic needs from us. Introverts all over the world might be soaking this in, meanwhile all of us extroverts are going into a state of panic. My biggest fear for this next month is being lonely. Bored and lonely. Missing human contact. I will have to do some soul searching and face something I’ve never faced before: this much time to myself. Isolation was the punishment my parents gave me as a child. It’s a punishment to me. How will I deal with this? I am now faced with the challenge of turning this huge bag of lemons into some amazing lemon wine.

We’re all being challenged to do something none of us have ever had to do before. But, what I’ve learned so far in my life is that we can always do more than we think we can. And we can do this, extroverts! We can face this challenge. We can overcome this, and we’re about to prove to ourselves what’s possible… while eating wholemeal pasta, no name beans, and the only 2 salad dressings I was allowed to buy today. Like. A. Boss.

If there’s other things I’ve learned, first of all, we as humans don’t like being told what to do. Many of us are struggling with this isolation and this virus, because we don’t like being told we can’t go out and can’t see our friends. We’re not good at listening. We think we know best. We’re not good at submitting to authority. We’re not accustomed to this. That’s why it has to get to this extreme. Secondly, we take so many creature comforts for granted. Going out for a meal. Stopping at a drive through. Going for a coffee. Going to our friend’s house for a visit. Having people over. Going to work. Going to the gym. Entering a building without thinking of how many people are in it. Going anywhere in public without hand sanitizer, gloves and masks. We take all these things for granted. We’ve just lost all of them.

I said to my boss today, “remember when just a few weeks ago I was complaining that I never get any time off work? Now all I want to do is go to work.” This puts everything we do and everything we know into perspective, doesn’t it? It’s amazing how quickly the world around us can just fall apart. 8 days ago it felt normal. Now, I have questioned everything. Was the last day we were open my last day ever serving customers at Church Road? It may have been. I don’t know. It is completely mind blowing to me that this is happening. And how fast it’s happened.

Faith moment: God knew this was coming. 2020, the year for which my word is “vision” couldn’t have left me more blindsided; this is a time in my life where I’ve had the least vision I’ve ever had, and when I have the least is when I can lean into God the most. This is a year where all of us as a global community have had no way to envision what is to come. It’s a day by day life right now. Rather than live by my vision, or what I think I want, I have to trust God’s vision entirely. He saw this coming. This was no surprise to Him. And I have no other choice but to believe He has a vision that includes me being taken care of in it. We’re living in another country, and although our visas aren’t up for a while, we’ve been thinking of what’s next. Now we’re just taking it one day at a time and one hour at a time.

Where are my extroverts out there? I am such an extrovert! Extroverts gain energy from social interaction, and we thrive on it. We need external stimulation through relationship. When we can’t get it, our energy is sucked from us. We become drained. Verbal processing is a common extroverted quality. We like to talk things through. I find I personally can’t completely deal with a stressful situation without talking it through with someone, which has now become writing it out. Psychology Today says, “People who identify as extroverts tend to search for novel experiences and social connections that allow them to interact with other individuals as much as possible. Someone who is highly extroverted will likely feel bored, or even anxious, when they’re made to spend too much time alone.” Bored, check. Anxious, check. Anxious about being bored, check!

Human touch is a basic need. There are all of those studies I’m sure you’ve heard of where the babies that get held grow into mature, healthy people, and the babies that don’t get held die. Okay, so don’t quote me on that, but look them up. Human touch has been linked to many positive benefits in society, like building greater trust in relationships, decreased violence, increased immune systems and lower disease and stress levels, strong team building, improved learning, and an overall well-being (kcha.org). “Physical touch is the foundational element of human development and culture…we should intentionally hold on to physical touch” (kcha.org).

Face to face communication is critical to our relationships; there’s nothing that can compare to being in the same space as someone else, and sharing in community. Yes, FaceTime and social media are keeping us more connected than ever before, but it’s second best to the real thing. There’s actually a condition known as “skin hunger,” or “touch deprivation“ with symptoms such as being less happy, more stressed, and generally more unwell, along with a reduced ability to experience and read emotions or form meaningful attachments in life (psychologytoday.com). All of this, just from a lack of contact. There are people who, pre-Covid-19, were experiencing this, and who are now going into isolations for various lengths of time, perhaps with nobody to give them any face to face contact. Perhaps they are elderly and can’t see their children or grandchildren anymore, or maybe they’re single and living alone, and going to work, or the gym, or their church, was their only form of social contact, and that’s all been stripped from them for an indefinite time.

Isn’t it ironic that through that same touch, that normally brings us so many positive benefits, we can spread something that will kill us all if we let it? It’s gotten to us in a personal way. It’s affecting many people physically, and everyone else mentally, emotionally, relationally, and financially, to name a few. We’re all being affected by this virus in one way or another.

So what are we going to do about it?

We can’t give up. We have to keep going. We have to stay positive. We have to find hope. We have to find things to laugh about. We have to do our best to simulate human contact. Let’s stay in touch. Let’s unite as the communities we are and let’s band together to overcome this. We can overcome this. We will. Slow and steady. One day at a time. We, as the globe, will get through this. We, as humans, will fight. We will cry if we need to. We will rest. We are being forced into a period of rest. Let’s take advantage of it. We don’t normally rest this much because we live in a constant state of busyness. We will meditate. We will spend time getting to know ourselves more. We will cut this thing off eventually. We will look back on that year that Covid-19 happened and it will be part of the struggle that shaped us. We are living part of history. This will be in the books.

So here’s to the fight. Cheers to you, doing what you need to do. Cheers to governments that are giving their best to make the best decisions they know how to in unprecedented situations. Here’s to uniting as a community.

I wish you the best, wherever you are in the world, and with whatever part of this you’re dealing with.

I was a Vintage Widow

I used to hate this term, and thought it was a bit of an overreaction, but having lived through this season for the real first time (Greg hardly worked outside of normal hours last vintage), I understand why they call us partners by this cruel, yet accurate name.

Vintage Widow: someone who’s partner is working the wine harvest season, and essentially mourns the loss of said partner to everything grapes and winemaking for anywhere from end of February through May; the vintage widow’s needs come second to the winery’s needs at all times.

Now before you think I’m about to launch into a huge list of complaints about this, let me reassure you that I’m not. I get it. I’m in this industry too, and I understand how the weather controls so much of when the grapes can come in, and that once they’re in, they need immediate processing. I understand that it’s all hands on deck, and how it has to be a 24 hour, 7 day per week operation. Vintage is exciting and there’s a thrill to seeing a winery in full swing.

No, I’m not here to complain, yet assuming my first official “vintage widow” title came with challenges, especially during this unprecedented Vintage 2020.

First, this was one of the longest vintages New Zealand’s had in years; it started very early due to warm, sunny weather all spring and summer, and then ended with cooler nights throughout autumn that stretched the reds on for weeks. Secondly, Covid happened; world pandemic vintages are interesting, to say the least. We weren’t sure if wine production was going to be able to continue, but thankfully the government deemed it as essential, strict pandemic procedures were put in place and patrolled at all wineries, and vintage 20 rolled on.

Greg not only worked 12+ hour shifts, 6 days a week, he was Night Shift Supervisor. If he’d been on days, I would have seen him each evening. With nights, we were 2 ships passing. Thanks to Covid, and social distancing, the night shift had to remain on nights for several weeks longer than usual, to keep the 2 shifts from coming into contact with each other on site. All up, Vintage 2020 was 13 weeks of night shift for Greg.

This challenged me in several ways, the biggest at first being sleeping alone every night. I hadn’t slept for a full night alone in a decade. I was assaulted in my 20’s, and sleeping overnight was the one hurtle that I’d never jumped. Whenever Greg went out of town, I’d have friends sleep over, or go to his parents’ or mine. I was offered beds this time too, but decided it was time I finally faced that fear. My colleagues can tell you how tired I was at work for those first few weeks. I was so uncomfortable that I felt like I slept with one eye open most nights. I tossed and turned and had to fight my anxiety all night long, every night. I don’t know if I eventually just hit a point where I got so exhausted that I began passing into unconsciousness, or if I gained some peace; it was likely a mixture of both. Eventually, I started to sleep better. I learned to pray before I went to bed and trust that God would keep me safe. I listened to calming worship music that assured me I wasn’t alone. It was a huge fight. But I finally chose to fight it. It was never easy, but it did become less difficult.

Another challenge was finding something to do with all my alone time. I am an extrovert, and although I enjoy being by myself for short times, I love being with people. In New Zealand, we’ve had to re-balance our relationship and the time we spend with each other. I usually work more hours than Greg does, and he normally gets home before I do, so he has had to get used to missing me for once, while I’ve had to get used to never having any time to myself in the house. We had some arguments at first, but eventually found our groove. Then vintage hit. All of a sudden I was coming home to an empty house. I wondered what I was going to do to keep myself entertained; then I remembered that in Canada, I used to beat Greg home each day, and I had 2 months a year off work and was on my own. I had done this before and I could find things to do, like read and write, go to the gym more often, not rush out of work as fast, or catch up with girlfriends. Great! Plan sorted.

Enter Covid.

Looking back on what vintage would have been like without being mandated to isolate at home for 5 weeks in the middle seems like a dream, and before, I was dreading that! Now, how I felt about it seems laughable! Covid took me to a new level of isolation I never imagined, but I survived, and actually ended up finding some rest and enjoyment in it.

Now, about the cooking. Greg loves cooking; I don’t. He usually gets home first, hence he cooks and it works great… until he isn’t around, and I have to cook for myself! I literally hadn’t turned on the oven in our place before vintage and had to send Greg a photo to ask him if it was on the right setting. I ate cereal for dinner a few times. What have I become? Once Covid hit and I didn’t have to leave the house for work, things changed. In isolation, I could eat whatever, when I was hungry. It also turned out that meals of chocolate and wine were pretty easy to prepare!

We knew going into vintage that Greg would get one day off per week, which thankfully ended up aligning with one of mine. I thought, “oh this will be great! We are used to only having one day a week together so this will be the same!” Wrong. Try coordinating eating and sleeping when you’re on complete opposite schedules. It doesn’t work. One of us was either hungry, or not hungry, or sleeping or tired or wide awake and wired. Covid actually helped us in this area, because once I started working from home, I made my own hours. I switched to night shift. I slept in with Greg, did my work in the evenings, and stayed up until he got home to have a drink or catch up with him. We would go to bed together around 3.00am or 4.00am and it worked really well (apart from the odd 10.00am meetings I had – those were rough).

I have a whole new respect for anyone that works nights as part of their regular schedule. Health care professionals, police, trades workers and so many others do this regularly and don’t see their partners on certain days, and have messed up sleep. Some people’s partners travel often for work and they run their relationships via impersonal contact. Kudos to all of you.

The week that Covid-19 became a huge reality in New Zealand and we went through hourly changes that eventually lead to the closure of my Cellar Door, Greg and I didn’t have a face to face conversation for 6 days. I informed him of only the major things via text. I had a lot of mental processing to do, but I couldn’t process with him. Having someone to talk to about your life who knows you, and who you are, is quite valuable. You can vent to them and they accept you. They can challenge your perspectives, and present new view points. I noticed Greg’s absence the most that week, as I was going through a lot without the support I was used to. I had to lean on other people.

On a much deeper level, one night, I found myself contemplating the point of life. For me, I’ve realized that a lot of my joy in life comes from living it with someone, and Greg is the partner I chose to do that with. Even just sharing small, every day things makes life better for me than when I am doing those same things by myself.

Little things like his cooking, or being there to listen when I need an ear reminded me of how much he does around here. How clean I was able to keep the house reminded me of how much mess he makes too! He does a lot for me, and vintage life reminded me some of why I appreciate him.

Vintage is over, and Greg’s back on days. We’re back to working very similar hours, and eating dinner together and trying to find a new normal in this ever changing life of ours. It’s interesting how something I was so afraid of at the beginning could become something I got used to and even appreciated at times. We, as people, adjust. We deal with what we have to and we make things work. It still surprises me how flexible we can be when we have to be. If life was all the same though, it would just be boring, right?

I’m proud to hang up my “vintage widow” hat for now though. And hey, I work in the Cellar now. Who knows what’ll happen next vintage, or where we’ll be. We’ll find out in due time.

And to all you vintage windows out there, especially the Moms, you rock.

In a Time of Turbulence

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I added Covid-19 to my Microsoft Word dictionary today.

When 2020 began, I could not have foreseen this year becoming what it has so quickly become. And we’re just at the beginning of these next unpredictable and shaky weeks. Or months?

I’ve asked people in their 70’s if they’ve ever seen anything like this in their lifetime and they say they haven’t. No one has. Someone commented to me that the last time things were this dire was in World War II, and although that comment may be a bit extreme at this point, it’s truth may not be for long.

Isn’t it crazy how a microscopic virus can become the hugest villain this world has seen in decades?

I’m reflecting on so many things, and processing uncountable thoughts as this thing affects my life more and more daily, and the lives of those who I love; I know I’m not alone in that.

Life at work has been a lot to take in, and we’ve been dealing with the punches as they come. We had no idea on Sunday morning when we woke up that it would be our last day with cruise ships in town, and that our last tour of the season would go out. We had no idea on Monday when we woke up that we would be isolated from the winery, and many of our colleagues. I spent the majority of my day going through our calendar and regretfully cancelling booking after booking with tour groups and customers. We had no idea on Tuesday when we woke up that all of our Administration office staff would now be working from home indefinitely. Our diary has gone from very full, to completely empty in 2 days. Church Road has never seen this. Local tour operators have lost thousands of dollars of business each day at the drop of a hat. It is amazing how much our culture in NZ survives on tourism. What will happen to those businesses? Those employees? How will people pay their bills?

Living across the world has often felt like we are far from our friends and family in Canada, but this pandemic has reminded me of how small this world can be, and how connected we are to each other. We are in this together, and fighting this together, as a world community. It takes something like this sometimes, that’s attacking all of us, to unite us in our fight against it. We are one large community in many ways right now, as we realize how human and vulnerable we are, and how this life can never be taken for granted.

We like to walk through life feeling like we’re in control. We think we have a job, and we make this much, so we plan ahead for money to come in, and we buy now. We think we can book vacations and just go on them. We plan so many events, celebrations and gatherings, and we assume they’ll happen, because why wouldn’t they? But we’re never really in control, are we? We’ve never been, even when we thought we were, but going through life with that mentality is scary as all hell. We can’t have peace with that knowledge unless we believe in something that gives us a sense of grounding or faith or we have something to put our trust and hope into that it’s all going to be okay or work out as it’s meant to be.

We feel so out of control and turbulent when things like this happen, because we are faced with the reality that we can’t control the outcome. This leads to panic. The panic, I’ve found, can spread just as quick as the virus itself, or maybe quicker. Panic and fear breed more panic and more fear. Panic buying, panic conspiracies being spread verbally and over social media. Panic reactions of all kinds.

The virus may steal the health of some, but the fear is already stealing the peace of many.

It has been interesting to watch how government authorities across various countries are handling the same situation so differently. I am thankful for the precautions New Zealand is taking to “flatten the curve.” Many of us are informing ourselves as best we can, and are trying to weed through the overwhelming amount of information we’re being presented with as the situation changes hourly. We try to cope with it all as we are able, through sharing conversations (hopefully via safe social distancing), or sharing the many humorous memes and videos already going around on social media, or exercise (if our gym is still open), or maybe even with some straight up liquor and pure denial. Or by writing (how I process).

Regardless of how we’re all dealing with it, I’m impressed at so many positive elements of the human race I’m seeing come out already. We, as people, have a fight in us that is awakened when we’re challenged. We push to try and fix and solve and we don’t give up. We work together. When we unite, we support each other. It has been humbling to already witness so many groups forming to support others in the community. It is heart warming to see people who are strangers come together to help other strangers because we are all human beings. This is the basis of humanity. It’s touching to see the goodness in people’s souls, and to be reminded that it is there. We are seeing people love other people in very tangible ways. Why do we not operate like this under “normal” circumstances? This is what the communities in this world should be like!

We are at the beginning of what could be a long road ahead, that will inevitably have multiple tiers of effects that last years. Someone told me today this is the Depression of the 2020’s. The thing is, nobody knows. And we have to take this one day, and one hour and one battle at a time. We have to find ways to cope that work for us. We need to support each other; we need to have friends and family we can lean on, and that can lean on us. We need to be open to how this is affecting us and seek help if we need. When the panic and the fear and the “what if’s” set in, we have to find something that can ground us. For me, it’s my faith. For you it may be something else, but I’ll leave you with this. Maybe it can help you too.

“Give all your worries and cares to God, for He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7.

2019 Lessons; What This Year Living Abroad Has Taught Me

We’ve lived abroad for the calendar year of 2019 and have recently returned from our first visit back to Canada. Through the trip back, I found my suspicions were confirmed. I’m the same in some ways, but I’ve really changed in others. This move has given me so many invaluable lessons, and I would easily recommend a year abroad to everyone at some point in their lives. In the spirit of entering 2020, here are 20 lessons I’ve learned this last year, addressed to myself, that I hope not to forget.

1. Remember the value of a dollar. If you work hard, you can be successful, even if you don’t make that much. Every dollar matters, so don’t waste them.

2. The biggest risks can bring the biggest rewards. On the flip side of that, not everything you try works out, but keep trying until you find a way.

3. Include and welcome people. Don’t ever forget how much it’s meant to you to be included and welcomed in so many groups and families this year. Pay it forward for the rest of your life because you never know how much you can impact someone by letting them in.

4. Be who you are no matter what others think. It’s easier said than done, but the relationships that come to you when you’re not afraid to be yourself are the best kinds of friendships.

5. Family is important, and there’s nobody quite like them. You can like them or not, and they can feel the same about you, but they’re your family. When push comes to shove, they matter in a way that can’t be replicated.

6. Take risks. Make mistakes. Learn the hard way if you have to. Experience life and chose the path you want to go down. You can always change direction later. Don’t be afraid to try new things. Lots of times they’re worth it, and for the ones that aren’t, at least you know.

7. Every place has things about it that you’ll like and things that you won’t. Nowhere is perfect, and there are compromises to make in any environment. You just have to choose which ones you’re willing to make.

8. True friendships will stand the test of time. You’ll pick up right where you left off, and it’ll be like not a day’s gone by.

9. Saying goodbye is hard, and you cry, but that’s because you love those people dearly. Having people in your life that love you too, and miss you enough to cry over your departure is something of incredible value.

10. The topic of money is a sensitive one for many people, and everyone has opinions on how you should use it. When it comes to money and relationships, it will sure show you a lot about who people are.

11. People are going to judge you and gossip about you no matter where you live in the world. It says more about who they are as people than who you are.

12. Not everyone you thought was a friend for life is. But that’s okay.

13. The world is really big, but really small at the same time!

14. Anything you thought was pure truth about the world, or people, or life, can be challenged. If you’re willing to be open minded and listen, you’ll learn of other perspectives that can add a lot of value to your life.

15. Choose to be content and happy where you are in the moment. Soak the moments in! They won’t last forever. Celebrate everything good!

16. Appreciate those around you. Show them you appreciate them.

17. Life isn’t guaranteed. Go for your dreams now and don’t let anyone “should” on you, or tell you you’re too old or too anything. You only get one life.

18. Life still has hard parts, even when you’re living a dream being realized. There’s always room to learn and grow, and to make new dreams.

19. Everyone has a story, and everyone has struggles. Nobody’s life is perfect, no matter how it seems.

20. God is taking care of you more than you’ve ever known. Trust. That’s another one that’s easier said than done, but keep trusting in God, and the whole process.

Cheers to 2020, and Happy New Year!

How Being on TV Forced Me to Face My Insecurities

Everyone has insecurities. I feel I can fairly make that statement. It’s truth.

We are all imperfect, and we usually know it. Some of us can admit where we fall short, and others of us don’t do such a great job at that, but we all have things we don’t like about ourselves. One of the things I don’t like about myself is that I care too much about how I look, not just physically but as a person.

I’m insecure about certain aspects of my physical appearance. To be completely honest, I have always struggled with that. The parts of my appearance that I’m insecure about have changed over my lifetime, but there’s always something. I’m never just perfectly happy with how I look.

From conversations I’ve had with other women, this seems to be a common thread, but I’m very aware that many men also struggle with this. People seem to be more open to discussing insecurities these days, and I think that’s good; there is something freeing about actually calling out the one thing you hoped nobody would notice about you, and having them communicate that it’s not actually as bad as you think it is. It’s interesting hearing other people say what they’re insecure about, because it’s usually something that you would never have noticed on them, or that you wouldn’t choose as something they should be concerned with. If that’s how we feel about each other, isn’t it possible that the things we are insecure about really aren’t perceived the way we think they are either?

Greg and I recently filmed an episode of a popular show on a widely viewed American channel. We applied for it, and it was our decision to go on it. I was really excited to be on the show, and looked forward to it for months before hand, but when the day actually came to start filming, I found myself becoming very aware that thousands and thousands of people were going to see our episode, and see the very things about me that I didn’t want them to see. It brought out a lot of insecurities in me, not only physically, but with how we would be portrayed on the show as people, or how our relationship would be cast.

When you choose to go on television and you sign that waiver saying the network can use anything and everything they film you doing or saying in a five day stretch, for any purpose… you realize that you’re going to be seen. All you, from any angle, with no filters, whatever you said. Yikes.

A photo is still. You can take another one, and then take another one, and change the angle, and apply as many filters as you want. You can just delete the ugly ones (unless you like posting really funny ones to your album of unfortunate shots like I do). A photo doesn’t capture the stupid thing you just said, or the incorrect grammar that you heard coming out of your mouth that was too late to stop.

A photo can be photoshopped.

I had so many moments during filming where I nervously slurred my words, or said something embarrassing. I literally had all of these thoughts that week:

Was that even a word?

I need to google what I just said to make sure it was a word.

I hope they don’t use that.

Did I really just say that?

Ugh, I came across so stupid there.

I wonder if I seem shallow?

How will they portray me?

Our episode aired in America last week, and thousands of viewers saw it before we did! When I was notified of the air date, I found myself thinking some of those exact same thoughts again. How would we be portrayed? What would actually get shown? I wonder how obvious this or that will be on camera?

I’m a perfectionist and I expect as close to perfect from myself as I can get; this, of course, is an unrealistic expectation, and when I let my mind get stuck on my imperfections, I feel inadequate.

Most people, I think, want to be liked. We want to be accepted for who we are. We want people to think we’re pretty, and smart, and kind, and good at what we do. We want to feel needed. We want to know we have value.

One of the areas in life I wanted to learn to be better at in my thirties, and grow in during my time living abroad, was not caring what other people think of me.

I didn’t expect that I’d accomplish this goal entirely, but I hoped to move closer towards the “not caring” end of the spectrum than I had been; doing that show really pushed me to take a hard look at myself, and realize that I am who I am, and I have to own it.

I look this way.

I say stupid stuff sometimes because I don’t know everything.

I’m not 18 anymore.

My hair is a hot mess sometimes.

I don’t always speak perfectly.

I make mistakes.

I have scars.

Certain people will never accept certain things about me.

I can’t please everyone.

I’m not perfect.

But this is me.

And that’s okay.

Living the “No Plan” Plan

We have no plan.

So many people are asking what our plan is. My accent often leads to me telling part of my story to tasters in the Cellar Door, and I’m asked several times per day what my plan is. Our family and friends are wondering what our plan is too. We understand that people want to know. We do get it, really! We want to be able to tell you, but we have no concrete answers for you.

We really have no plan.

How long will we stay? Will we continue working in the wine industry? Will I ever teach again? When are we going “back home?” (I feel like I could write a blog on defining “home.”) What will we do after this? (When does “this” end and “after” start?) Honestly . . . we have some ideas, but we change our minds all the time. We are literally living almost day to day right now. And we like that.

That’s crazy to me. I’m a planner. I’ve always been a planner. I like plans. Actually, I love plans. I used to live for and by plans. If you’d told me ten years ago, or even five years ago, that I’d be living like this right now, I would have either not believed you, or had an instant panic attack.

But… I’ve actually found that living with no solid plan is kind of freeing. It’s liberating, and exciting and scary and maybe it’s not smart, or maybe it is. Maybe it’s not good for us, or maybe it’s exactly what we need right now. Whether it’s wise or not to not have a ten year plan, or even a five year plan, or honestly even a five month plan… it is what it is, and we have no plan.

We’re four months into living out a dream we’ve had for years; that’s really not that long in the grand scheme of things. We’re still feeling this whole new life out!

We’re learning so much. We learn things every single day about the wine industry, about ourselves, each other, what we like and don’t like, what we struggle with, and what we’re good at. We learn things God’s teaching us; we learn things about what’s important in life, and what’s not as important as we used to think it was. We learn about other cultures and countries. We learn about people.

For every question we get answered, we come up with five more we want answered. We’re curious. We’re exploring.

Isn’t this what moving abroad is all about?

There are multiple studies that suggest that people who have lived abroad are more confident and self-secure than those that haven’t. The experience gives them a better concept of themselves, and a wider understanding or outlook on others in the greater context of the world. After working through the values and systems in another country, expats have to re-evaluate themselves and their personal views.

This is part of the reason we wanted to make this move, and we’re living it every day. I doubt we’ll be here forever, but we’re not closed minded to that, if this is where we’re supposed to be. We may likely return to Canada, because that’s where our families are, but we’re also not set on that either. We have honestly talked through several options of how long to stay here, and where to go from here; however, we are fully aware that we’re dreaming at this stage, and anything could happen.

I think some people have trouble accepting the “no plan” plan, because they themselves can’t identify with it. I get told every week how brave we are for what we did, moving across the world with nothing, to a place we’d never been, to try and find employment in a new industry. People often tell me they wished they’d done what we did, but either never got around to it, or were too scared to take the leap; I don’t know if I feel like we’re brave, but I do admit that having no plan is truly terrifying at times.

Most people don’t choose to live with no plan, but for us, right now, we’re living it, and it’s kind of great. It’s just what we need.

Besides, we believe God’s got a plan for us, so it’s not so much that we have no plan at all, it’s just that we don’t know what it is yet; we’ll find out when it’s time to take the next step.

So if I haven’t confused you enough yet, or shown you how much we really are unsure ourselves, the answer to “what’s your plan?” or “how long will you stay?” is simply that we actually just don’t know.

So there you have it.

Just keep following the blog and time will tell!