Golf and Your Mental Game: The Destructive Power of Improvement

After working as a golf Marshall I finally accepted a chunk of reality after playing 45 games. I am stuck in a range of 80-95 for 18 holes. In and out. Up and down. I am prisoner of a range and after 50 years of golf the time has come to accept that reality. The first game of the season could be the best and after 44 games the last game could be the worst. Accept that reality and the incessant desire to improve may fade and instead of a tirade of self criticism as your game is not improving you might find yourself enjoying the golf moment you are in and enjoying and laughing at the bad shots. In fact take it a step further you are on the golf course so is there really a bad shot! With age and experience comes wisdom if you embrace acceptance?

“Travels to a Different Time” : September 1989: Cancun, Mexico: Drinking Tequila from Baby Bottles and Now is Not the Time for a Shark Attack!

Off to Isla Mujeres (Island of Women) just off Cancun. It has some incredible beaches and there is the Cave of The Sleeping Sharks made famous by Jacques Cousteau. $30 USD on the “Festival Cancun”. Beautiful turquoise water! Buffet continental breakfast was served. Lots of juices and pastry. Mostly young American couples in their twenties. There was even a live band which added to the festivities although they were not particularly good. After breakfast it was open bar and the gringos were guzzling down tequila like it was a frat party. Actually most looked like they were frat boys and girls. In 90 minutes we were at El Garrafon beach which is a national park with coral reefs and tropical fish that swim around your feet. It was a beautiful snorkeling adventure of course keeping your eyes open for any sharks that were not sleeping in the caves. We had an hour at the beach which was probably wise due to the intense heat and blazing sun. Lunch was delicious in buffet format with chicken, ribs, guacamole, tostados and lots of fresh fruit. We cruised into town and wandered around with lots of shops in a quaint town that has been around for awhile. Small and narrow streets. So different than the Hotel Zone in Cancun.

Then on the cruise back to Cancun the young Americans hit the tequila real hard loving the tequila drinking contest which consisted of drinking a tequila from a baby bottle. What a banal and idiotic event or can we indulge the frivolity of gringo youth? By the time we were back in Cancun a couple of gringos had passed out most likely experienced in so doing by the many frat parties they had attended. Then taking a page from the Time Share hustle a tip jar was passed around and each “donation” received applause from the staff. Milk those gringos! Feed on gringo guilt.

A couple of days later we returned with a boat that looked as if it was ready to capsize. You know like those disasters you hear about in the Philippines or India. I noticed this was no gringo express but full of locals. Received stares by surprised locals seeing a rich gringo amongst the commoners. Like being stared at by gypsies in Romania like I was a spaceman. While I am not worried as I am a good swimmer but if this rickety tub sinks I am sure the sharks will wake up and make me their dinner.

RKS Wine: Confidencial Reserve Rosé from Lisbon

Confidencial is a label of Casa Santos Lima. They make a low-priced red that is a real winner and one of those old-style red wines that needs some serious ageing to flourish. This rosé is from “more than 10 grapes” and the winery considers the types as “confidential”. I suspect that with so many varieties we are looking at a field blend meaning that the grapes are all mixed growing in the field. Very old school from a time when grapes were grapes and wine was wine.

The wine is neither dark nor light pink but somewhere in the middle. On the nose somewhat delicate notes of raspberry, cherry, tangerine and wet stone. On the palate there are some tannic influences but not imposing ones. A bit strange but the dominant palate influence would seem to be marmalade! There is a fine seam of acidity. Notes of watermelon, ginger and a bit of white pepper. A short finish.

All said and done a run of the mill rosé and rather weak kneed like the polite response to Tsar Putin by NATO. I would say for the same price you can be drinking a Featherstone Estate Rosé 2021 from Niagara and experience how exceptional a rosé can be.

(Confidencial Reserva Rosé 2021, Vinho Regional Lisboa, Casa Santos Lima, Portugal, $15.95, Liquor Control Board of Ontario # 19846, 750 mL, 12.5%, RKS Wine Rating 84/100).

Part 2: Postcards from the Edge: A Bit About Me; Vlad the Rat

I was born in Dresden in the DDR otherwise known as East Germany on August 12, 1955. My father was a colonel in the East German Patriotic Army in the intelligence unit. We travelled around Eastern Europe as father was assigned as a “friendly attaché” to various People’s Army bases in Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria and Romania. I had many kiddie comrade friends in these countries and I became proficient in 4 languages. For his trips to Moscow we never accompanied him but he compensated for that by bringing home numerous large containers of caviar and bottles of cheap vodka. He always said the Russians can’t make decent beer like we Germans but their vodka was excellent and superior to the East German rocket fuel vodka. I suppose the highlight was the three years we spent in New York as my father had some role to play with the East German delegation to the United Nations. I attended a private school in Manhattan and learnt English and met many decadent capitalist teenagers. I considered them weaklings as the United States had no compulsory military service. But they were a fun lot. I developed a fondness for hamburgers and macaroni and cheese.

I completed my gymnasium studies at the Stalin School of Superior Studies in Dresden. My university was the Potsdam School of Espionage where I graduated with honours in double agent recognition and squashing counterrevolutions.

My mother Helga was a kind and loving proletarian who worked as a cook for the Loving Comrades chain of restaurants popular in eastern Europe. She could cook a mean schnitzel and her goulash was famous for being meaty and devoid of grease. She always said the horsemeat used in her goulash was lean and from healthy animals unlike those dirty Yugoslavs and their greasy goulash that only Tito lovers could eat. She was also a host for several years of a show “Cooking Like a Comrade”.

I had no siblings.

I did my military service with the Stasi, the East German Security Police. I learnt how to break up and discredit capitalist roader traitor organizations and infiltrate and spy on threats to the fatherland. I was assigned to East Berlin to organize the Students for a Strong Fatherland. In fact I met a beady eyed man there called Vlad Pucken with the Russian embassy. He was a very boring character continuously boasting about his childhood battles with man eating rats in his impoverished Moscow neighbourhood. He learnt and appreciated how dangerous a cornered rat was and said watch him if he was ever cornered. How that mealy mouthed low level bureaucrat rose so meteorically in oligarchical Russia was beyond me and my German comrades. We called him “Vlad the Rat”.

So how did I end up in Canada you may ask? And in clutches of a Riesling Re-education Camp in Wa Wa Ontario!

“Travels to a Different Time” : 9September1989: Cancun, Mexico: Lost in a Sea of American Yuppies and Mexican Workers: More Time Share Beggars

Took the local bus into town to pick up some breakfast. I am the only gringo on it and it was full of Mexican workers. It has a huge crack in one of the windows. Elephant ears and banana bread. Headed out for a look at the commercial section of Cancun and hustled by 4 different Mexicans about “incredible time share deals”. These people remind me of the gypsies begging in Eastern Europe. Scouted out two malls both of which were gloriously airconditioned and devoid of human life. A massive attack of the runs hit me and I had to scramble down some rocks to let it fly. God help me if anyone saw that! With no toilet paper it was a sticky situation. The hotel strip is sterile. A cocktail of tequila and orange on the balcony. Hailed a cab to Pericos but that snooty joint required long pants so off to Calypso a rip off joint with an interesting group of owners. Long hairs and well dressed. The tables were packed with American yuppies downing all sorts of frozen drinks like money was no object. An outrageously expensive dinner and horrific service. As I left without leaving a tip I heard a surly voice saying thanks and tips are not included. I felt scammed by the extortionate prices and nonexistent service so no tip. I don’t think I have ever done that before but after being stuck and scammed so many times in Mexico it felt good to stick it to them for a change

“Travels to a Different Time” : 7September1989: Cancun, Mexico: Climbing the Temple of Kukulcán Deep in the Jungle

Today off to the Mayan ruins at Chicen Itza the famous Mayan architectural site. Our bus was to leave at 8:15 but arrived at 8:45 and I was not pleased with the crappy seat at the back of the bus. I recall a horrific back of the bus trip in Yugoslavia in 1973. Pure hell. There were two seats near the front which were unoccupied and the tour guide refused to let me have a seat. At the last bus stop he gave the seat away to a person getting on the bus. I was really pissed off. Exiting Cancun I realized this is a big town with a population of 400,000. It started as a malaria infested swamp in 1970 with a population of 160. It is enveloped in choking diesel fumes. The environment would have better off without it. The destructive force of tourism.

The Mayan communities we passed are simple structures with thatched roofs and hammocks. The Mayans are dark skinned, short with small necks. They are barefoot. The bus stopped to pick up some beer and soft drinks and we were on our way. A lunch stop at a gringo buffet at the “Hotel Mayaland”. A decent lunch of corn, squash, pork, chicken and a flan for dessert. The ruins were incredible and perhaps only a picture can describe them. I climbed the steep Temple of Kukulcán with a spectacular view of the jungle below. How many human sacrifices were made where I was standing? It was relatively easy ascending but many gringos had a terrifying trip down as the stairs were so narrow. A few people are seriously injured every year tumbling down. The trip back saw me with a good seat. Beer and soft drinks on the way back were appreciated as the terrible humidity flattens you. You can drink like a camel but you sweat it out. Not to be vulgar but you can drink a gallon and never have to pee. It comes out as sweat. Back at 7 and it had been a long day. No tip to the guide due to his seat discrimination. I should have greased his palms to start the trip. I think they call it mordida a way of life in a corrupt country and who can best afford it? Gringos!

RKS Wine: Chile Keeps on Trying with Its Cabernet Sauvignon

Give Chile an A for trying to impress with its Cabernet Sauvignon. South African reds often have an earthy and slightly funky smell to them. Chilean reds often a faint hint of mint. These characteristics may add a “national characteristic” to the wines of those two countries and if in moderation no need to complain.

James Suckling thinks highly of this Ravanal Gran Reserva scoring it a 93 and placed it in his top 100 wines of Chile for 2021. With such a wide net what being in the top 100 means? It was # 64.

Do we have to set Mr. Suckling straight?

On the nose there is voluptuous black currant, blueberry and dates. This is no mature wine in its prime. It is fresh and perky like that student in class sitting in the front row that frantically waves his hands trying to be the first to answer a teacher’s question. Put another way as for aromas it is beyond the mundane which plagues so many wines these days brought in by the Liquor Control Board of Ontario.

On the palate it has an inviting and charming personality subdued and perfectly mellowed by the oak. It is a full bodied and totally inviting wine with fine tannins. There is some blueberry jam, black cherry and a touch of Nestle Quick chocolate powder. The finish is laid back in this fulsome wine. For $15.95 this knocks out Cali Cabs at twice its price. It is both a sipping wine and a food friendly wine that would suit rich mushroom-based pastas or a good old fashioned prime rib with Yorkshire pudding and my fantastic gravy which is ranked # 365 out the best 1072 gravies in Canada!

Drink by the end of 2023 and perhaps with some Portobello burgers on the grill with grilled zucchini on the side.

Oh, there are no hints of mint but there a subtle mix of herbs on the finish.

(Ravanal Gran Reserva Cabernet Sauvignon 2019, Valle de Colchagua, Vinos Ravanal, Placilla, Chile, $15.95, Liquor Control Board of Ontario # 542183, 750 mL, 13.5%, RKS Wine Rating 91/100).

“Travels to a Different Time” : 6September1989: Cancun, Mexico: Slick and Sleazy Americans in the Time Share Mafia 

Eggs, coffee and toast for breakfast. The waiter is a touchy and feely guy sort of like over emotional. My neighbour next to me is a fussy guy who wants to read his newspaper in solitude. On the way to the beach I was approached by a Mexican guy who asked if I wanted to see the new disco across the street and have a couple of drinks. I think I have previously written beware of Mexicans bearing gifts. As I appear at the disco with other gringos a drink of tequila is prepared and a trip to the disco is now a timeshare presentation if which attend you will receive a Mexican blanket or a bottle of tequila. What a sleazy scam. Who would buy a timeshare from these sleazebags! But, hey enjoy the scam! The Mexicans hit you first singing the praises of a timeshare in Cancun. A slick presentation then the Americans move in for the kill with very high-pressure tactics like in a Turkish carpet factory. Give a deposit right now or you will lose out. Once we get your deposit we’ll give you the contract. Everything is guaranteed! Needless to say incurring the wrath of the American overseer I scuttle out with my hard earned bottle of tequila with a real value of $1.75. I sat with some of my “free tequila” on balcony admiring the view and chuckling at the crude pressure cooker techniques of the Time Share Mafia. Great pizza from a woodburning oven at Pizza Rolandi,

RKS Film: “Montana Story”: Death of a Parent: Been There and Done That

When a parent dies the shit can hit the fan. And when the shit sprays it can be regenerating or it can rip the façade to shreds. I have been there and done that thrice.

Yes in one situation it was a bonding event and in another a rip tide of destruction. Yet within the bonding event a rogue brother and a sister-in-law flashed greed, animosity, jealously and bad childhood memories. You may have experienced this and if not yet the day may come.

In “Montana Story” sister Erin (Haley Lu Richardson) and brother Calvin (Owen Teague) return to Montana to visit their dad who is on life support. Erin and Calvin are so very distant and we learn why. Dad was an asshole. So big of an asshole he managed to shatter the brother and sister bond.

As Dad lies on life support does Calvin becomes a vengeful brother or a possible murderer? Was that a solid beep I heard signalling a natural demise? Did Calvin exact revenge?

Erin can kill chickens but did Calvin kill a human?

So you may not have yet assembled over the death of a parent. Perhaps the shit flies and if not are you burying it or stirring it up?

Perhaps I have said too much and perhaps Mr. T knows all?

I can’t spill all the beans but perhaps dad was a bastard so how do Calvin and Erin process this?

Incredibly beautiful Montana scenery and a rich soundtrack will satisfy you if you have yet to experience a parental death.

A film that resonates at its conclusion. I hate to break it to you but facing a death of a parent this film is prep.

Richardson and Teague deliver despite a weak script. Their talents deserve meatier and more substantial roles.

The film opens throughout Canada on June 17th.

Directed by Scott McGehee and David Siegel.

RKS Film Rating 86/100.

RKS Wine: Postcards from The Edge: Greetings from Riesling Rehab Part 1: God Bless the Okanagan Valley Liberation Front!

Where did my vicious downward spiral begin with Ontario Riesling? As a loyal soldier in the German Riesling Badder Than Meinhof gang all was humming well particularly my missions in the Pfalz warm weather Riesling area of our dear Deutschland where my comrades and I waved our revolutionary flags and gobbled pig knuckles and munched on the crispy buggers hoping in vain the good citizens of the capitalist West Germany decadent state would join our revolutionary brothers in East Germany. Oh the joys of Pfalz Riesling full of wet slate and apricots! Alas the Berlin Wall fell and I was assigned to Toronto Ontario as a mole in the Canadian German Friendship League.

Then a bad bolt of lightning struck me. My cover was to act as a wine writer a position of great power and wealth in Canada where fame and fortune were guaranteed. One fateful night I was assigned the role of a moderator in the great Canadian German Riesling showdown otherwise known as the “Judgement of Beamsville”. 20 Rieslings from the fatherland against 20 Rieslings from Niagara. Independent judges, at least those we didn’t encourage friendship with by offering free trips to Dresden, preferred Ontario Rieslings to those from the fatherland. Shaissa! It was then that a bad case of Post Traumatic Riesling Disorder descended with a vengeance. Awful flashes of judges raising Ontario Riesling to their snouts and actually smiling. My mind could not wrap around the fact that Ontario grapefruit juice was superior to the Rieslings of our fatherland. I had difficulty sleeping realizing the only chance for my sanity was to advocate sussreserve to make Ontario Rieslings up to snuff with German Rieslings! This suggestion earned me a tidal wave of abuse by Canadian wine writers who said I knew nothing about wine. How insulting considering my Doctorate in Wine was from the Karl Marx University in Dresden. Germany has been making wines for hundreds of years but Canada more or less just got off the bus.

So with all these flashbacks of sour tasting wine being lapped up to critical acclaim the Liquor Discontrol Board of Canada had me committed to a Riesling Re-Education camp in Wa Wa Ontario. I was forced to drink five different Ontario Rieslings a day and join a circle of disenchanted Ontario Riesling drinkers and chant how great Ontario Riesling was over and over until I felt like Frank Sinatra in the “Manchurian Candidate”. Upon retiring for the night loudspeakers blared the indisputable greatness of Ontario Riesling. But some commandos from the Okanagan rescued me. God Bless the Okanagan Valley Liberation Front which offered me my freedom!