We sailed down the Rhine to a wine museum located in the very best winemaking region of Germany. So as not to offend anyone, I won't say which one. The museum is located in a castle — where else, since there are no ordinary buildings left, and everything around is a historical treasure that absolutely cannot be demolished.
Some sort of vials. Judging by their shabby look, they're as ancient as the castle itself.
They told us all sorts of things, but due to computer sclerosis I don't remember a thing, so I'll just brazenly quote Wikipedia. After all, you're not reading this for hyper-accurate facts, but for my sparkling humor. Right?
Some sort of basins. Probably extremely ancient, especially the one shaped like an urn.
Germany is the 9th largest wine producer in the world, even though its vineyard area is ten times smaller than that of Italy or France. The majority of the vineyards are located along the banks of the Rhine, which is what we observed earlier.
Some sort of barrels. Probably very ancient and valuable, and there's even a guy on a horse carved into them.
Curiously, despite their stern character, the Germans produce almost no fortified wine, unlike all the other types and subtypes, which are abundant. Naturally, in Germany's main markets — the US and the UK — they mostly know about the sweet wines, that's just the way it goes.
Some sort of press. Probably not ancient at all, but it looks like a goofy wheelbarrow.
It's also funny that rosé wines in Germany are made not out of any special love for them, but because it's difficult to get a rich red color in the German climate. Nevertheless, they try, using the Pinot Noir variety, which in Germany is called Spätburgunder. I actually drank it, I liked it, though the price is $16 a bottle, which is a bit much.
An ancient distillation apparatus. Wine, that's for the priests, who have been running this business in Germany since time immemorial, while the farmers distilled something stronger for themselves.
After sightseeing, we headed to a wine tasting. They poured us 5 varieties, all were white and had almost none of that nasty oily-gasoline smell you usually get with white wines.
Whoever guesses what this is still won't get anything. C'est la vie!
There were many curious things about the tasting. First, it was accompanied by detailed commentary.
View to the left.
Second, the storyteller wasn't shy: she poured for herself too.
View to the right.
Third, 14-year-old kids were also given a taste. Our Soviet tourists, they don't have any complexes. The Germans, by all appearances, also have a reasonable attitude towards such things, which makes sense overall — in the Middle Ages, drinking water was an order of magnitude more dangerous than wine or beer, it was extremely dirty and riddled with bacteria, so everyone drank weak alcohol, including children.
I wonder what Americans would say, with their drinking age of 21.
Views inside.
Fourth, after the tasting, the sale of what we tasted began at a frantic pace, for 7 euros a bottle. The scheme is well organized! First we taste it for our own cash, and then, in a good mood, we buy it in decent quantities for our own cash again. Still, they could have jacked it up to 10 euros, so I think it was pretty humane.
A kite. (If you hear a donkey mating with a tiger in a cage, do not believe your ears! Something like that, anyway).
The wines, by the way, were all pretty good for my taste, but due to my biorobotic nature I'm inclined to attribute this to psychological factors. To spell it out for the thick-headed: when you leisurely drink a small amount of wine in good company, and they tell you how wonderful this wine is , the impression is completely different than if you chug a boring bottle from the supermarket by the glass all alone. Even so, I bought three bottles: and I was the only one they gave a cardboard box, the rest got plastic bags. This is surely because of my stunning charm, the power of which surpasses even my sparkling humor.
Descending into the torture chamber.
Fifth, they gifted us the glasses after the tasting. And they're souvenir ones, with the inscription Wine Museum Blablabla. You always see stuff like this and think: "How cleverly the bourgeois have everything organized".
Of course, we all love examining ancient winemaking junk much more than photos of cute young girls who are slightly tipsy, but still.
The museum, by the way, is called the Rheingauer Weinmuseum in Bromserburg Castle, and the region, respectively, is Rheingau.
And here is the tombstone, marking the end of the narrative.
Haha, fooled you — there are no boobs!