Morning respose before hitting the fields.

The morning of the second day dawned all too quickly for those of us who were suffering from the stiff muscles of a backache caused by the constant stooping over the tops of the grapevines the previous day. It appeared that all of the exercising that I'd done over the past six months didn't stand up well to the exercise we'd received from just one day in the field. Over compensation by squatting and standing only added insult to injury. By the end of the day my knee decided to repay me for all the years of sports abuse it had taken by swelling up and refusing to play anymore.

Heading out to the fields.

The grapes wouldn't wait however and there was work to be done, so we all carried on. Team America was conspicuous by their silence this second morning, as the strength of the Mistral made the the cool morning seem even colder. Team France however, kept us going with their animated chatter, sometimes breaking out into what I imagined was a French harvest song, although reality told me that it was a contemporary tune.

The wind howled, our muscles ached and the occational nip of a finger with the sécateurs caused us to question our sanity for putting ourselves through such a exercise. All we had to do though was look around us at the beauty of the endless rows of grape filled vines, the profile of cypress trees in the distance and the ancient villages atop the hills which dotted the landscape in every direction, to knowt that we had made the right decision to come to this place.

Sore muscles are temporary but memories such as these will last a lifetime.