First, we begin with a taste

I’m not a pure-bred city girl. I grew up in South Texas, in a city I deemed small, but by more honest estimates was probably more like a town. I always had to describe it in relation to the nearest “big” city, which was really a medium-sized city and about two hours away by car. In South Texas, we had cotton fields, orange and grapefruit trees, sorghum, mesquite and miles of flat, cracked, patchy land. The temperature could travel from hot to freaking hot to freaking, boiling hot in the span of an afternoon, and you could count the days you had to wear a sweater during the year on two hands.

In spite of the agricultural scene, I did not grow up on a farm (Ah, the city girl label just might be redeemed!). I grew up in a suburb of this small city, a place where nature had to fit along paved sidewalks that bordered manicured lawns to cookie-cutter brick homes with central A/C. The still-embittered teenager in me must point out that most of my neighbors had backyard swimming pools to add to their natural environment. My family, on the other hand, had a large, swimming-pool-sized patch of grass with a handful of skinny trees to romp around. This being blazing hot South Texas and me being an embittered teenager, you can guess how much romping I did.

Not too surprisingly, any time outdoors was usually spent trying to get back inside where the A/C was pumping. Things like camping, hiking or enjoying Mother Nature were considered sick jokes when temperatures were in the triple digits. Pretty sheltered, right? Not unlike living in a city, where subways, buses and temperature-controlled buildings reign.

I landed in New York City in 2002 after college. There I sealed the city girl persona through years of shopping, cocktailing, Meatpacking Districting, gallery and museum hopping and rooftop BBQing (of course, cabbing or metroing most of the way). While I’d learned to take shallow breaths, thanks to those lovely city odors, I managed to enjoy some outdoor time with runs in Central Park, wine and cheese picnics in Bryant Park and weekend escapes by a pool in Westchester. Even so, I hadn’t been exactly roughing it.

Now I’m more than 200 miles north from New York City, in the lush Finger Lakes region. Before visiting upstate New York, I’d only heard about Ithaca and the resident Ivy League campus, Cornell. I’ve since learned that the Finger Lakes offer more than hippie love and convenient bridges for stressed college kids to jump from sans parachutes and bungee chords. Actually, it’s also known for scenic views, hiking trails, boating and a thriving local, organic culinary scene. The region was dubbed for the chain of long, skinny lakes that look like, you guessed it, fingers. And these lakes afford the area with exceptionally fertile land for more than 100 wineries and vineyards.

What brings a city girl here aside from the wine? A search for my life’s path—I was spinning my wheels trying to figure it out in exciting, but distracting NYC. And a sexy, sweet Finger Lakes boy who is well on his way to convincing this city girl that life can be very good in the country.

So I’ve hauled my cocktail dresses, leather handbags and thirty-odd high heels many miles north of the City to try the Country on for size. And I’ll be blogging about the more entertaining peaks and dips as I experience life at a slower, more organic pace. Already, in my first month, I went blueberry picking for the first time (We’ve been suckered, city folks, because there is nothing sweeter than freshly-picked berries). I spent four days at a music festival known for drawing fans of diverse music, spontaneous dancing and recreational drug use. Let’s just say that if I saw the same mud-stained bare feet, dyed dreadlocks and paint-streaked faces in NYC, I’d have walked to the other side of the street. But when you’re in the Finger Lakes, you just drink the sangria from your plastic mug and dance an impromptu Irish jig of sorts.

On the latter note, I’ve also been sampling the region’s wines. Considering the name of this blog, I intend to be quite thorough about this part of my journey. Quite thorough. And I hope my experiences will amuse city and country folk alike. Perhaps we might discover the two are not so different after all, eh? So let the wining begin!