Milena Moser about her meeting in Californian vineyards: Between Worlds

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Sarah Kay drove the car with one hand, the other hanging out the open window, like a child or a smoker. She could probably be driving in her sleep along a winding road where the branches of gnarled holm oaks almost touched each other. After all, she grew up in the area.

Sarah Kay works for a transportation company that shuttles between local wineries and safely transports tasters. It was founded by a local man whose fiancée was killed by a drunk driver many years ago. “We live off wine tourists, but they are also killing us.”

We used their services because we were treated to a surprise eight-course tasting dinner at a remote but apparently very prestigious winery. The extremely generous invitation caused not only gratitude, but also slight panic. We were fully prepared for a cozy reading holiday and therefore did not bring anything that would meet the “smart dress code”. Whatever that means in California. Luckily, the area is not only known for its wineries, but also for the well-stocked Brockenhausen. So we managed to get it together for less than twenty dollars – for both of us! – Dress smartly and appropriately. We may have smelled a little dusty, but we looked festive. Sarah Kay thought so too. On the way, she told us about her four teenagers. When her own children were three and one years old, she took in and then adopted the children of a suddenly deceased friend, who were about the same age. Since then, the younger two constantly had to explain why they were the same age and not twins. I tried to imagine it: raising four children under four years old alone. “I thought I had everything under control, but my friends later told me that I was completely confused…”

We arrived at our destination too early. I’d like to talk to Sarah Kay longer. The atmosphere in the restaurant was a culture shock: incredibly beautiful and a little cold. We were looked after by no less than four waitresses, fluttering around our table like butterflies, refilling new glasses and explaining the complex ingredients of tiny but incredibly delicious dishes. One dish was served under a cheese dome of sorts, with purple smoke emanating from it. I let out a small scream. The rest of the guests acted as if it was nothing special, as if they ate like this every day. We are not. We clapped our hands and beamed. And at least the waitresses thawed more and more, smiled, gave us more drinks and brought us all sorts of sweets.

When we left the restaurant a few hours later, crickets were chirping and the not-quite-full moon hung crookedly. Sarah Kay sat on a bench with other drivers and smoked. When she saw us approaching, she half-heartedly tried to hide her cigarette. Then she laughed and stood up.

“Where do we go now, Sarah Kay?” – asked my friend.

“At this time? Darling, it’s time to sleep!”

Source: Blick