This wine evokes a taste of...grapes

This past weekend, I went on a group wine tour on Waiheke Island, a paradise just a 35 minute ferry ride northeast from Auckland.

Goodbye Auckland.

Hello island life.

Waiheke has 33 wineries/vineyards dotted around its culture of beaches, no traffic lights, intermittent farmland, and a fast-growing property market. It confusingly feels exclusive, yet totally accessible; it's an intermingling of rolling and rocky hills (think northern Italy), sparse though commercial beach front (Oregon coast), and rural simplicity (Michigan or Wisconsin or Iowa or take your pick. Just don't pick Ohio). There's something about Kiwis, people from an island nation, getting really excited about going to another (still smaller) island that is endearing. If nothing else, it enables one to pretend to be a sommelier for a day.

This was my first wine tour. What comes to mind when you think of a wine tour?  

• A single bead of sweat forming on the nape of your neck as you burn to a crisp under a blazing sun
• The parched back of your throat as your try to form the phrase 'dark blackberry aroma and smoked cedar palate'
• The fact that the desiccation in your throat comes not so much from the heat as the lip-smacking dryness of your last Cabernet Franc
• The pinch of your sunglasses as they slide down your sweat- and sunblock-greased nose
• Mental gymnastics to convince yourself that this sixth Syrah had a more peppery aftertaste than the first, second, or third, but that the fourth was still the best (or was it the fifth?)
• The omnidirectional rolling green vineyards that don't so much scream 'fresh and outdoors' but whisper plainly, 'aridity'
• The glare of a morning and midday sun that melts into a desultory hazy glow after 15 tastings

Waiheke had all that and much more.

I could spend time describing the wine in detail, or at least the wineries and their differences in tastes/practices/sizes/locations/etc. But it's unlikely I would do any of it justice. Luckily, I did take pictures (as did Rhiannon, with her superior camera).

I can't help but think how cool it would be to have a vineyard maze, similar to a corn maze but with more drunk.

Three consecutive and fast-paced wine tastings can make you forget your surroundings. The irony is the wine makes the greens more green and the blues more blue. I'll let the scenery do the talking:

Am I too young to plan my retirement here?

Out the shuttle window. Our shuttle driver, an adorable old Kiwi named Graham, was probably between descriptions of multi-million dollar homes when we stopped here.

Actually an island in the southern hemisphere, or just Napa Valley?

After much wine and bumpy rides in undulating landscape, topped off with duck and risotto and gelato, there's only one thing the human body craves, nay, needs - a beach nap. We took a quick stroll down to Oneroa bay:

Turn this into a pastel painting and you have basically every Thomas Kinkade work ever.

Prime location to close eyes, contemplate meaning of life, and develop midday wine tour hangover.

Finally the day came to a close. This meant a pleasant stroll back to the ferry terminal, where even the drabness of public transportation became a late afternoon seaside spectacle:

Tranquil. Tranquilo. Tranquille. Whatever language you want to use, it's still damn peaceful.

Cheers!