Journey of Motherhood

Button turned 3 last Saturday... how much he has grown in the last 3 years, and how much I've grown! Many thoughts ran through my head, like a PPT presentation on fast-forward.... the stunned silence that filled our house when we discovered that we were going to be parents (Button was a happy accident!), the many sonographs and the doctor visits, the slightly-blurry hospital days, the first feed, the first tooth, the first step, the first fall, the first word.... the list is endless.

When I think back, I wasn't ready for motherhood when I discovered I was pregnant. I was upset and happy at the same time. I knew my life was going to change and perhaps I wasn't ready to let go my party-hopping, wine-guzzling, trigger-happy traveling days. My lovely new job that I 'really really' wanted was certainly going to end in a few months time (as it involved traveling, many con-calls etc.). At the same time, I knew my husband was truly happy and I drew strength from his happiness.

A few short months later Button was lying in my arms. Everybody crooned and laughed and 'wished' their lives could revolve around him... I felt petrified and constricted, I had no choice, my life WAS going to revolve around him. I could handle an irate customer well, but I went to pieces trying to understand my wailing baby.It rained all day for the first 3 months. My maids did not clean well enough. My mom 'did not know' how to handle my new-born well enough! I changed 4 cooks in 4 months. Even my driver did not drive properly (when I don't even know how to start my car!) The worst of my barbed comments were reserved for my husband... he tried hard, and is a lovely father... but just wasn't good enough for me. I was sleep-deprived and wasn't lactating enough...most importantly, my heart didn't seem to be 'overflowing with love' as the books prescribed and fellow bloggers gushed about. I felt inadequate and upset... I am a perfectionist and wanted to be the perfect mom! What's worse, I felt guilty feeling this way.

Months rolled by... the weather changed for the better. My son began smiling at me. The husband did his best to take me out, handle the kid in the evening so I could get some me-time. I began to get comfortable with Button, but would still fret a lot over the smallest of milestones. A strong comparative mentality ruled me... my son hadn't turned over many times today, oh-no,he is going to be behind in his academics..my son did not like potato, oh-no he is going to be laughed at for disliking french fries...my son did not sprout a tooth yet, oh-no he is going to be a slow poke.... my list of worries were pointless and endless. But hindsight is perfect. I would get so much into a frenzy worrying that my husband contracted sympathetic paranoia! Luckily my mom-in-law who visited me then realized I was getting too hemmed into motherhood and suggested getting some help, and luckily, I listened to her.

Initially the help could do nothing right, but Button adored her. She was a bright young girl, quick to learn and wonderful with Button, soft-spoken and incredibly patient... both with him and me!My doc assured me that I wasn't suffering from PPD. I began socializing a little bit more and switched on my phone after many months. Blogging was an incredibly empowering outlet... it was completely me-time on the blog with neither Button nor the husband peering over my shoulder. I returned to my first love - books. I read like a maniac. I healed physically as well and felt stronger.

Once Button turned 10 months old and showed me how much his world revolved around me, I think slowly I began to love him, rather I understood that I did love him. The feeling of happiness at every small gesture from him, the pride at his achievements, the pain when he fell off the bed, the terrible helplessness when he cut his lip, the utter annoyance when he exhibited his stubbornness... hurray! I began to really feel for him.

When he turned 2, my husband took me to Singapore for a holiday.. just him and me....'just like old days', I thought. I developed a fever right at the airport...which went away only after a day of resting in S'pore. And I realized that I was actually missing my baby...all the feelings of being a bad mother leaving him with grandparents and not doing 'my only job' surfaced. Again, the husband ensured that he sorted my feelings out. I returned and took up a part-time, work-from-home option. Juggling motherhood, my house, my job, my marital relationship, my social life(which thankfully was getting a lot better) and best-of-all, my holidays, made me feel more human.. more alive... I felt stronger and happier and a better mother.

We moved to Chennai in Jan this year. Coupled with Button's independence, super-support from my in-laws and my growing confidence, I went on a holiday to Israel with a friend, without my husband or child. I was sure I would miss Button....I was certain I would make myself miserable worrying about whether my household set-up would unravel in the 6 days I was away. But like Gautama Buddha, I found enlightenment in the Holy City. I did not miss Button. I did not miss my domestic set-up. If anything, I only missed my husband occasionally. I did not feel guilty. I came back super-charged up, with a clear sense of purpose. I came back with a crystal clear idea of how my life should be.

I did not need to be a perfect mother. It is okay to give my son chocolate. It is okay to let him be with grandparents who pamper him silly. It is okay to let him watch television for a few minutes every day. It is okay to let him play with his vehicles for more than 10 minutes a day. It is okay to toilet train him at his pace. It is okay to not force him into an imagined rat-race. It is okay to let him get dirty. It is okay to let him fall, mess up, express his anger in words. It is okay to let him be. It is okay to let him grow up at his pace!

I did not need to maintain a perfect house. It is okay to change curtains once a quarter or even after 4 months or 6 months. It is okay to let the house-help take a day or two off to handle their family affairs. It is okay to have dirty corners and cobwebs (even better if they have spiders I could show Button!). It is okay if I forget to salt the rasam or make chapattis. It is okay to eat curd rice or even pizza occasionally. Double okay to eat Maggi and Nutella sandwiches!

I did not need to 'become' a perfect wife. I am. For my husband. I truly am blessed to have him in my life.

I ought to work. Enjoy the stress of deadlines. Complain about my boss. Drink 10 cups of horrible machine coffee. Feel harried about leaving 10 minutes late from home. Worry about my ratings. Fuss about the formatting of my presentation deck. Yell at my laptop for not magically saving my data files.

And so, I listened to Button more. Kissed the husband more. Apologized to my mom for being a difficult daughter. Hugged my sister more. Thanked my in-laws more. Found a job. Smiled at the Universe's abundance.

Fast forward to June 2011. It was time to drop Button at school....I watched him square up his shoulders as he walked in bravely, a few tears finding their way down his cheeks... and I started crying softly... my heart finally overflowed with the love I had been reading about all these months. I AM a good mother I realized. Button loves me for who I am, not who I think I should be. Amen!

Israel Chronicles: The Israel Pensieve

Lingering thoughts about Israel (before I forget)!

1.Food: Vegetarian food is lovely, especially if you like Hummus, Pita, Babaganoush et al. Too many chickpeas consumed for all meals may have repercussions on a non iron-clad stomach.

The Arab-Palestine veg food is brightly colored especially cauliflowers. A bright lurid pink that one usually spots on bougainvillea shrubs is typically the preferred color for cauliflower stuffing in the falafels. The Israeli Jews have a couple of veg dishes as well. One must-try is the 'Latke'.

If you can imagine potato pancakes served with vegetables you are spot on. If you can't, imagine a south-indian potato bhajji instead, served with sour cream and vegetables on the side... yeah, you've got it. If you still can't imagine how it tastes, visit Jerusalem. Both Israeli Jews and Arabs are liberal with salads and olives in their food. Considering they are all slim and tall, the food is probably worth emulating!

2. Black Jerusalem: The color black hits your eye the moment you step onto the streets, be it near the Walled city or even a modern Mamilla Mall or distant Masada.

Both Jews and Muslims wear the color black - black skirts, black burquas, black overcoats, black shoes.... it is ubiquitous. One morning TP and I had ventured into Mea Shearim (of 'Acts of Faith' fame), an area where very Orthodox Jews live. We thought we had dressed in conservative clothes, in our long printed skirts and full sleeved kurtas and scarves. Needless to say, we stood out like a still in Kill Bill...bold splashes of color in the black and white surroundings!

3. India: Always knew that Gandhi had a greater following in the world outside India, but Shah Rukh Khan and Amitabh Bachan are almost as big as Gandhi! Have heard 'Dil to Pagal Hai' being whistled, 'Eechak Dana' being sung and was even asked to visit a shopkeeper's old dorm in Aligarh University! Announcing that you are Indian also brings many curious questions about availability of Bhole baba's prasad and sly questions about how to source it...as if I'd tell even if I knew. Huh.

4. Politics: All Israelis LOVE to talk about politics... it is almost comical to see the heated discussions, the angry gestures and the strong points of view.

I definitely recommend talking to the common man on the street about his opinion on how the Israel - Palestine conflict ought to be resolved... some of the thoughts are visionary. The conflict has been going on for so long (since 1948) that people have almost resigned to a lack of resolution (any thoughts on the LoC at Kashmir? Especially regarding PoK?) There are strong views, heart-rending personal stories, but still no resolution. Not a happy thought.

5. Surroundings: Some parts of Israel, especially parts of West Jerusalem and Dead Sea public beach area, reminds one of India. Not very clean, people spitting on the roads and arguing loudly. Whereas other parts of Israel - more modern areas of Jerusalem, parts of Nablus and the touristy Masada were spic and span, an example of how we could showcase our rich history. Israel is a bit like the western counties, a bit like Middle East, a bit like India, a bit like nowhere else....overall very hospitable, very travel-friendly and extremely memorable.

8. Pride in Nation:

Most Israelis / Palestinians I spoke to, had a strong sense of their identity, a sense of belonging... love for the land.Some were fanatic, Nationalists to the point of being jingoistic, but most were moderate, just happy to be Israeli, happy to have such a rich cultural heritage. The sense of patriotism combined with the constant presence of soldiers does make one feel the 'Israeliness' in the air. Not just in Jerusalem, all over Israel. Definitely Indians are more reserved in their display of patriotism (I don't doubt the feeling, just the expression).I don't know if we need to shout out our Indianness, but it is worth considering.

7. Prayers:

In Israel, someone is always praying... a church's tolling bells, a muezzin reminding you to bow to God, a bunch of Jews in a synagogue bowing back and forth in prayer, someone telling their beads, a taquiyah (skull cap), a tzitzit (religious shawl), a Bibile, a Koran or the Siddur (Jewish daily prayer book).I am sure if I'd been observant enough I'd've even spotted a Jedi Knight! It is impossible to not reflect upon one's relationship with the Big One up there.

To sum it up, the tagline for travel to Israel said it all.... "Visit Israel, you'll never be the same".

ps: The end of my Israel account. :)

Israel Chronicles: P.A.L.E.S.T.I.N.E. - The West Bank story

On Day 4, TP and I fulfilled our long time secret desire of traveling to Palestine when we visited Nablus in West Bank(Palestinian Authority). We were part of a guided tour with a company called 'Alternate Tours' (managed by Abu Hassan).We highly recommend him and the tour company.

To give a brief background, Nablus is an olive-rich PA territory, famous for its Olive soaps, communal ovens and Kunafeh. It also gained notoriety as the hub of the second Intifada, early last decade and ever since has been under strict Israeli (Jewish) control. Our tour group consisted of 12 people - 2 Spaniards doing social work in Ramallah, 8 trade unionists from Norway (who had broken off their ties with an Israeli trade Union and were doing a recce of Nablus to decide if they wanted to affiliate with them) and my TP and I(2 Indians, with sketchy knowledge of the Israeli-Palestinian politics, but high on enthusiasm).

Our first stop was at Balata.

A UN refugee camp established in the 1950's,it resembles the dense living conditions of Dharavi in Bombay.We had the opportunity to interact with the community centre head (an American of Palestinian origin)who spoke about the multitude of problems facing Balata, from lack of civic amenities, to lack of job opportunities and lack of space, all leading to a spiral of depression, anger and finally organized violence.

We walked around camp through alleys that barely let us walk in single file, past toilets that were stinking due to water shortage,past vegetable vendors, haggling women,thoughtful old men fresh-faced teenagers furiously typing away on their laptops, old ramshackle cars,

girls playing football…(yes, you read right) GIRLS playing football and young boys discussing the latest football game (it was an Arsenal – Munich Bayern one I think!).The westerners with us were shocked at the living conditions, the two of us Indians were heartened by the indomitable spirit visible in abundance.Every street corner had pictures of martyrs who were killed in their struggle for a free Palestine by the Israeli army. Oh, how common it is to the country- Arab or Jew - to honor their dead and remember their names and faces.

Our tour group then met the Mayor of Nablus (what an honor, what a wonderful insight into Palestinian politics). The building was very similar to any Indian beaurocratic building (not surprising considering Palestine was a British Mandate).

We waited in a conference room which had several pictures, of previous Mayors dating all the way back to the late 1800s! The mayor, bustling with energy and enthusiasm swept into the room a few minutes later. He was interested in understanding our ‘outside’ perspective of Palestine's issues. Palestinian cities have twin cities all over the world, with Stavanger, Norway being a twin to Nablus. Nablus's mayor shared his plans to invite Stavanger's Mayor and some school children on a cultural-exchange program.

The Mayor talked about the current peace process, Norway's role and narrated some ground-level realities that sent chills up my spine.

Israeli settlers (Jews from anywhere in the world) are paid to ‘settle’(or squat) on Palestinian land and practise the Jewish way of life. Adequate comfort is provided through generator sets and borewells, and security through military presence. Palestinian land is encroached upon by building fences and ‘declared’ the property of the Jewish settler there. Woe betide any Palestinian who decides to contest this hostile takeover… he could spend his fortune in a legal process and his life in jail. If settlers refuse to ‘settle’ in these lands, and the land happens to be too close to the Israeli border (decided by the Israelis), the land could be declared ‘no-man’s zone’.

Recently (just a couple of days before we visited Nablus), an Israeli settler’s 4 year old kid had been killed.

Immediately several Palestinians had been rounded up, put in jails, their families traumatized, road blocks established around Nablus, Balata’s water supply cut off for 3 days and yet,no confessions. Finally the murderer turned out to be a Thai migrant worker who wanted to return to Thailand (against his Israeli employer’s wishes) and wanted his salary (due to him for over 6 months). On being refused time and again, he lost his marbles (when his kid lost his life back home due to lack of funds)and in an act of revenge, he killed his employer’s child. And so many Palestinians wronged!

The Mayor said something that still resonates in my ears. He said “I only own the land I stand on. If I want to buy my neighbor’s house, I have to take permission (from the Israelis). If I want to build an extra storey for my newly married son,

I have to take permission (from the Israelis).If I want to dig the ground for water to feed my newborn, I have to take permission (from the Israelis).” The Mayor was hopeful about change in the near future. All Palestinians were. All Palestinians are. When you hit rock-bottom, there is no way but up, ain’t it? He talked about the power of youth and Facebook, and how Egyptian youngsters had harnessed the power of the internet for a good cause. He expressed hope for a ‘Final Settlement’ in Obama's tenure(ah,the man of ‘Change’ and ‘Hope’!)

We walked around the market later.

The market is a traditional Arab souk. Long winding alleys, smiling men in the their traditional kaffiyehs, selling everything from headscarves to spices to hardware equipment... and curious about the non-Caucasian tourist women! 2 brown-skinned women with Indian features can probably pass off as Arabs…the moment we proclaimed we were Indian, it would be greeted with smiles and claps and loud cheers, sometimes extolling Gandhi (do you remember him?), sometimes Amitabh Bachhan, sometimes SRK, and surprise, sometimes Shahid Kapoor!

We had men gallantly singing “Abhi na jao chodke” to “Yeh chand sa roshan chehra” to “Dil to pagal hai”! Yet, we NEVER felt unsafe, never felt harassed. I think Indian men could learn from Palestinians how to be chivalrous and walk the tough line of being pleasantly charming, never flirtatious or annoying. We sampled the world-famous Nabulsi Kunafeh, a lovely dish made of cheese that just melts in your mouth. Bought some scarves (how could we not!), olive soap and zatar(an ingredient in several Lebanese hung-curd based dishes).

My hotel manager (a LOVELY guy called Sammy) hails from a place near Nablus. When he saw our gift of a plate of original Nabulsi Kunafeh he almost kissed us(no he didn’t though!). He said something that shocked us.

He hasn’t been to Nablus in over twenty years and hasn’t met his relatives there in all that time. He said that no matter how tasty the kunafeh in Jerusalem is, it isn’t Nabulsi and could never be authentic! He said it was probably easier to visit the North Pole than Nablus! The (American)community centre manager in Balata had talked about entry barriers too and I hadn’t believed him then. Any American / Canadian of Palestinian origin cannot just decide to visit his relatives – he might be sent back at the airport itself(no immigration clearance). If he landed in Amman, Jordan, then at the Jordanian-Israeli border(so close, yet so far).

In fact, Israeli roads are built in the West Bank area with so many check posts that traffic could halt sometimes for days on end.Villages that would barely take 20 minutes by road could take over 8 hours due to checkpost clearances and round-about travel routes.In contrast, a Jew could declare his religion in Greenland or Pluto for that matter, and an El Al ticket and Isareli citizenship is guaranteed and the country open to him for travel and living. Such disparity based on religion in today's time and age is upsetting.

My take at the end of the trip? I think the Western media has got it all WRONG. I think more than half the world has got it wrong. At a political level, the Palestinian land belongs to the Arabs too.

The Israelis are doing unto the Palestinians the injustices that were wrought onto them - first by getting the Palestinians into today's ghettos (by imposing rules in PA cities) and then possibly by ousting them out of their country.My fervent prayers for peace to prevail. At a social level, I hope for better understanding of the Arab culture by the Westerners.

They are just as fun loving and courteous and polite as a Malaysian or Chinese or Japanese or Canadian.And large hearted.Arab women do hold positions of power, play soccer, use MAC lipsticks, wear designer shoes and swoon over Bradley Cooper.So there!The world would be a better place with more understanding and open-mindedness for diversity, ain't it?



Moral of the story: Hope reigns supreme. The defining picture of my visit to West Bank is this one -

a lovely green shrub smiling at the world,enjoying the sun,despite growing in a stone building....reflective of its caretakers, its country. Despite all the violence and political unrest, the hope and love in the country is incredible. A must visit.

Princess? Duchess you mean!

The Royal Wedding, yesterday was exquisite. Thanks to my fascination with all things Royal and Wedding, I was a prime contender to watch the televised proceedings on BBC. Button was asleep (thanks to the time difference) and I watched the ceremony fully, eating a delicious cheesecake to celebrate.

Button woke up just in time to watch the Duke and new Duchess of Cambridge walk up the aisle to the lovely 1902 horse carriage. (And gave me the ultimate compliment)... "Mamma and Appa got married and are coming back home"


(some girl will be proud of being his partner one day!)

Princess

Button has begun correlating his storybook characters to real life a lot, of late. Our car is Lightening McQueen. My squint-eyed baby-helper is the 'evil stepmother' (poor thing!) and my morning helper is Noo-noo (from Teletubbies, because she swabs the house). I never really paid heed to him, until I dressed up to go out with my husband yesterday. In my flowing skirt and a lovely embroidered top, I twirled around. Button took one look at me, smiled and said "Mamma, you look like Cinderella, a princess'. Thank you sweetheart!

Israel Chronicles: In memoriam - Yad Va Shem

People react to disasters in different ways. In India, the Independence struggles, the oppressive regimes have all but been forgotten. Because our primary religions (I mean Hinduism, its offshoots and Islam)teach us to be 'fatalist'.

We forget (in time forgive) and move on. Not the Jews. NOT EVER. The holocaust remains a blight on human history and the Jews are never going to forget it, never going to let anyone forget it, and in some respects rightly so. In the 19th century, the Jews had assimilated well into the cultures of various countries and yet managed to retain their individuality especially in terms of religious rituals. Enter Hitler, and the final blow on their individuality and safety was struck. Did they lose their minds? No. The Jews are a strong race. They took their lives into their own hands, created Israel (it is another matter that the Palestinian Arabs got a raw deal out of it, more on this later) and created a magnificent memorial to their loved ones who were unjustly dealt with during the holocaust.

The Yad Va Shem, meaning a memorial to the tribes of Shem (son of Noah from whom the Jews descended) is a tribute to all the Jews who lost their lives in the Shoah(Hebrew for Holocaust).

Its not a museum, more an interactive 'memorial' (for lack of a better word) that lets you FEEL the horror of it all. For example, you walk over a glass display floor and when you look down you can see thousands of pairs shoes underneath. These are shoes found at Dachau (some of them contributed by survivors or their families). You 'feel' the sadness and the enormity hits you like a physical blow almost. Yad Va Shem is systematically constructed in chronological order, with the horror mounting further and further, till at some point you do end up breaking down and wondering what the point of all the senseless targeted execution was. The grey walls and black benches add to the bleak atmosphere. The audio guide that we took with us(depositing our passports at the entrance) helped us get a context. The audio guide is EXCELLENT and I highly recommend it. At Yad Va Shem, there are several TV screens with live depositions and accounts from survivors. Heart-rending. I actually was shocked beyond tears.

We meandered through the events into an Aushwitz death-wagon and then I felt stifled. I walked through the rest of the sections trying to squelch the growing nausea(of the horrors) into a lovely section about the 'Avenue of the Righteous'. This section was built to honor non-Jews who believed in humanity in those tough times and saved many many Jews, the most popular of them being Oskar Shindler. (Nanny Sandra Samuel to Baby Moshe, of 26/11 fame is recognized as a 'Righteous Gentile'). In the gardens outside, several of them are honored with a tree planted for their service.

Finally one walks into a room with a deep well. The well reflects walls and walls of box folders. One folder for each person who perished during the Shoah. More than 2 million folders are yet to be identified and the space for them is blank. The Jews believe in knowing their ancestry and it pains them immensely that several of their ancestors had perished without survivors or records. It is an unbelievably touching memorial reflecting the resilience and defiance of the Jewish race, not to mention their love for their brethren and meticulousness in preserving their memory.

My usually talkative TP had now forgotten all of the 6 languages she speaks. In silence we walked through (the ubiquitous souvenir shop) into the gardens and into a memorial for children. Thats when the tears started rolling (and didn't stop for a long time).

It is a lovely breath-stopping memorial to the little ones who were killed before they could see the world for what it was. Perhaps the world then was bleak, perhaps it was not the best of times for the Jews, but they had their parents' love and the support of their community, and never lived to see it. The memorial is a walk-through memorial - a dark room with thousands of mirrors reflecting one single glowing light. It refers to the lovely children who 'became stars' and are watching over the world. There is a solemn voice recording that intones the names of the children, their age and place of murder giving the place a chilly overtone (we got goosebumps for sure). Strong Jew pride and spirit of 'we shall not forget', isn't it?

If we - Indians, Hindus, young-enough to have never witnessed any holocaust or oppression, living a yuppie-privileged life, moderate in thought - were moved beyond words, imagine how an 18 year old Jewish military recruit feel? After the shock and sadness passes away, am sure it would be replaced by patriotic fervor. The Jews as a race believe in remembering, and passing on the remembrances. Yad Va Shem is the pinnacle of this belief to preserve their memories for posterity.

"And to them will I give in my house and within my walls a memorial and a name (a "yad vashem")... that shall not be cut off."

(Isaiah, chapter 56, verse 5)

Dazed, TP and I walked straight into a mall to shop away our sorrow.

And shop we did! We went to a local supermarket(Ramy Levi), bought several edible delights for our kids and went back to the hotel. We returned to a mall for dinner and had a lovely chocolate drink from (I highly recommend) a shop called Max Brenner. Went to bed, thinking about our past, the sacrifices our brave soldiers are making to protect our borders and how little we do to honor them, and feeling excited about our day trip the next day to Palestine (West Bank, Israel).

Moral: It is important to wear sturdy shoes always. It is more important to remember what is important to us.

World Cup and the lessons

The World Cup Cricket 2011 is one of the momentous occasions that defines our lives. Similar to the magnitude of the Tsunami or Twin Towers bombing, thankfully HAPPY in nature.

We'll always remember and talk about what we were doing then... at a pub, at home, in bed, with the husband, with someone else... whatever. We'll remember the tears of joy when Dhoni hit the last six, the tears in Sachin's eyes, Gary's quiet joy, Virat's lovely comment... Even the smaller details will stay with us for many years to come...Poonam Pandey, the dirt streak on Dhoni's shirt during his batting innings, Sreesanth's hair, 'wicked' Malinga, the man in the audience who had painted his entire body, Rajni and Aamir together (and the couplets about Dhoni, Rajini and Gajini)and the euphoric crowds.

In an era of disillusionment with the Government,with the maid,with the American President,the hairdresser,the boss,

the Saravana Bhavan dosas,the admission process at school, the media, the rat race, the rats..... everything, Dhoni has given us the only thing that seems rarer than flowers in a desert - HOPE and OPTIMISM. The sight of the entire team carrying Sachin has re-instilled faith that 'Indian' values of love and respect for an older person (player) still live. Dhoni shaving off his head the next morning has re-given meaning to 'faith' and prayers. Kirsten choosing to go back home reminds us that 'karma' is king, what follows is not for us to decide. Harbhajan Singh thanking the whole world has reaffirmed that vote of thanks is best short, maybe 15 seconds or so! The Government offering different slabs of money to the team has re-confirmed us that in India you have to be 'seen' working. The flag doing the victory laps around the ground brought back memories of childhood pledges to 'do our best for the nation' (are we?).

Thank you cricket team. Thank you for the cup. Thank you for the lessons. And thank you for proving that Chenin Blanc Chardonnay can be consumed in the afternoon too.