By Ovi Catanescu, with additional memories from my brother, Adrian (Adi) Catanescu
A childhood adventure in Brăila, Romania.
The Owl Never Forgets.
There were only two of us, Adi and me. But as our childhood would prove time and again, the two of us were more than enough to get ourselves into something unusual.
I don't remember exactly how old we were, but we were still quite young.
Our family was preparing for a party. On occasions like this, Mom was in charge of the cooking, assisted by Ica, our grandmother, and Nana, Ica's aunt.
The kitchen was bustling with activity. Everyone had something to do.
Back then, especially when preparing for a party, people didn't necessarily buy wine from government-run stores. They found other sources, often purchasing it in large glass demijohns.
And one particularly impressive demijohn had appeared in our house.
As I remember it, it held about fifty liters—more than thirteen gallons—and was wrapped in a protective wicker covering.
The demijohn had been "acquired" from the Pulp and Paper Mill in Brăila, where Dad worked.
And when I say he worked there, I don't mean he had just any ordinary job. Dad was responsible for installing and maintaining the machinery and equipment used to chop reeds, process them into pulp, and eventually turn that pulp into paper and cellulose fibers.
At the mill, containers like this one were used to store sulfuric acid, which, according to Adi's recollection, was used in the pulp-bleaching process. Glass was suitable for storing such chemicals because it resisted corrosion.
The demijohn had a special glass stopper with a finely ground, frosted surface. The inside of the bottle's neck had been ground in the same way, allowing the two surfaces to fit together almost perfectly, creating a nearly airtight seal.
To two little boys our age, that demijohn was enormous.
Normally, we would have been outside playing. But for reasons I can no longer remember, we were stuck indoors that day.
And since we were such exceptionally well-behaved children, we decided not to bother the adults with our presence.
So we retreated to a room above the passageway that ran beneath part of our apartment building.
It was a rather cold room during the winter, also used for storing food. There was a large bed, and among the things kept there was the enormous demijohn of wine.
I don't remember what originally attracted us to that room, but I do remember closing the door.
And, as usual, we began snooping around.
It didn't take long before the demijohn caught our attention.
It was big.
Very big.
And naturally, it demanded investigation.
We removed the stopper and discovered that it contained wine.
Not just any wine, but Traminer, a particularly aromatic white wine.
The problem was that the demijohn was so large and heavy that we couldn't lift it or even tilt it enough to taste its contents.
But we weren't the kind of children who gave up when faced with a technical challenge.
We knew that wine could be drawn from a large container using a hose.
Unfortunately, we didn't have one handy.
What we did find was a long plastic tube, about six feet in length, of the kind commonly used in construction to protect electrical wiring.
Somehow, we managed to draw wine through it.
But our improvised equipment had two major flaws.
First, the tube was too rigid and uncomfortable to use.
Second, and much more importantly, it would be difficult to hide quickly if someone entered the room.
Adi, already displaying the mind of an engineer, came up with a solution.
He went down to the basement and returned with a long, transparent, flexible laboratory hose made from chemically resistant material.
Now we had the proper equipment.
But we still needed something else.
An explanation for why we were spending so much time behind a closed door.
And that's when we came up with a brilliant idea.
We told the adults that we wanted to take a nap.
A nap!
The two of us!
Voluntarily!
In the middle of the afternoon!
Nothing like that had ever happened in our short lives.
For Mom, who was up to her ears in party preparations, this was wonderful news.
She came to make sure we were properly tucked under the thick comforter, especially since the room was quite chilly.
We settled comfortably into bed.
The transparent hose could be concealed beneath the rug and then under the comforter, all the way to where we were lying.
The door was closed.
The children were sleeping.
Or at least that's what the adults believed.
In reality, beneath that comforter, a clandestine Traminer-tasting operation was in full swing.
The wine was wonderfully aromatic.
It had a distinctive taste, and I remember that it seemed almost thicker than water.
I don't know whether it really was such an exceptional wine or whether we were simply fascinated by our discovery.
One thing is certain.
We liked it.
And we kept going.
Two little wine connoisseurs, lying comfortably in bed beneath a warm comforter, while the rest of the family worked tirelessly preparing for the party.
But Mom wasn't entirely convinced.
Something didn't add up.
Two boys who normally couldn't sit still for five minutes had suddenly decided to take an afternoon nap.
Voluntarily.
Something was definitely wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
She came back to check on us.
She even lifted the comforter a little, but not too much, because she didn't want to wake us.
She noticed nothing.
The hose was transparent and so well concealed that unless someone was specifically looking for it, it was practically invisible.
Later, Mom sent Ica to check on us as well.
She didn't discover anything either.
And really, who in the world would have imagined that two little boys lying quietly beneath a comforter were drinking wine straight from a thirteen-gallon demijohn?
Our plan was working perfectly.
Or almost perfectly.
Because there was one small detail we had overlooked.
Wine contains alcohol.
And we were two children who had never had a drink before.
According to Adi, we didn't actually drink very much.
But we got drunk quickly.
Very quickly.
Adi believes that inhaling some alcohol vapors while drawing wine through the hose may also have contributed to our condition. I don't know whether his explanation is correct, but I do know that the result was disastrous.
At some point, the entire house began spinning around me.
I could no longer make sense of what was happening.
I felt absolutely terrible.
And eventually, I threw up.
That was the end of our secret operation.
If we hadn't gotten sick, nobody would probably ever have discovered what we had been doing.
Mom and the others took care of us, and fortunately, as far as I remember, the episode ended without any lasting consequences.
I don't remember how much wine disappeared from the demijohn or how much damage we might have done to the party preparations.
But there is one thing I remember very clearly.
For years—many, many years—I wanted absolutely nothing to do with wine.
I couldn't even stand the smell of it.
And that was how our first great wine-tasting experience came to an end.
I don't know whether the adults managed to enjoy their party afterward.
But as far as I was concerned, wine had completely lost its charm.
At least for a very long time.
And to think that the whole adventure had begun with our admirable intention of not disturbing the adults...
Written by Ovi Catanescu, with additional recollections from his brother, Adrian (Adi) Catanescu.
The Owl Never Forgets.