Switching from a mediocre Pinot Noir to a decent Merlot decides summer destination

“I liked the way you arrived at the airport to pick me up. You came in style.”

“I always come in style. No point in arriving any other way. Well, it’s a bit late but let’s celebrate. When did we open this?”

“Last night.”

“I remember. It hasn’t aged well.”

“Wines don’t age overnight. Anyway, what’s for dinner?”

“Fish. You DO remember I went to the market this morning?”

“Fish sounds good. Garnishings?”

“Coconut milk, coriander, mild curry. Simple, but then the point is, you have to buy good fish. That’s the point of it all.”

“And followed by…?”

“Yes. Followed by… dessert.”

“Wunderbar. Shall I wash the frypan?”

“Thank you. Just look at this lemon. Did you ever see such a lemon? No pips at all?”

“Good one.”

“I’m so happy today. Tomatoes from my garden, parsley from my garden, and a truly great lemon. All organic.”

“That’s the little lemon we planted by the back fence two years ago?”

“He likes there.”

“Blue cheese with cranberries… delicious. But the important question tonight is, ‘Where are we going for the summer?’”

Two glasses of Merlot later each and the Times Atlas open on Scandinavia:

“Look, if we took the flight from Bangkok to Copenhagen we could stop there, see your friend, take a ferry to Stockholm, see my friend there, and then do Helsinki and Leningrad on the way back. What do you think?”

Bagpipes sound irrelevantly from across the water.

“Or Milano.”

“After eight straight years of beginning summers in Roma?”

“I know what you mean. Maybe time for a change.”

“But I don’t want to just walk around streets like a tourist.”

“True. Eating pipless lemons and meeting people you know is good.”