Author: Gabriella Nisco

Not another wine guide

Wine is everywhere – always has been, always will be.

As early as 8,000 years ago, when Georgians realized fermented grape juice could become something special, wine began weaving itself into human life. Ancient Egyptians used it in ceremonies. Greeks linked it to celebration and rebirth. The Romans carried winemaking across Europe. And us? We like to make napkins that say, “If you combine wine and dinner, you get winner,” and pass them around Thursday night book club.

It shows up at dinner parties, gets wrapped in silver foil for the holidays, and is quietly assumed to be something everyone enjoys. And if it’s not your thing? You learn to nod along and pretend it is.

I’ll go first: I’m not a wine drinker, and I proudly know the bare minimum.

If you’re looking for a beginner’s guide to wine, you won’t find it here. But maybe you’ll find permission to enjoy wine without needing to understand it fully, and to let it exist in its simplest form.

I went to college in New York City, and when my friends and I wanted to feel a little more “grown-up,” we found ourselves on the barstools of a wine bar on West 51st Street – sipping glasses of wine we couldn’t pronounce and convincing ourselves we liked. We all carried this unspoken idea that adults drink wine, and if we wanted to play the part, we had to trade our vodka sodas for a glass of Chardonnay.

Under the table, I was Googling the difference between dry and sweet, bold versus mild, mineralized reds, and why so many wines start with “pinot.” Anything that made us sound like we knew what we were talking about – definitely not 19 – and that we belonged.

In that moment, I was grouping knowing with belonging – and that was the mistake. You don’t need to know wine to appreciate it.

These days, wine culture can feel intimidating when you don’t label yourself a wine drinker – and it’s not something you can really ignore. Whether you’re traveling through Northern California, Italy, Spain, South Africa, France, or Australia, wine always seems to follow. No matter what’s in your glass, there’s no special invitation you need to accept – as long as you’re willing to notice.

A novice wine drinker goes undercover at a wine tasting

I’ve come to understand wine a little more since those performative wine-drinking days. I still don’t know why so many wines start with pinot (a quick search tells me it’s a French way to describe the pine-cone-like clusters of grapes), but I’ve gone wine tasting in a handful of countries since then.

My tasting notes from Tuscany speak for themselves:

White: good with cheese. Red: pasta. Salami?

For a writer, it’s hardly poetic. Hardly helpful. And yet for someone who doesn’t really know wine, those scribbles are still tied to some of my best memories of that trip.

When you go to a wine tasting, you start to realize wine is patient. It begins with vines that need years before they’re ready. Then comes harvest – early mornings, stained hands, and planning that depends on weather, instinct, and timing. Grapes are crushed, juice ferments, and the story continues.

No one cares if you don’t know wine. They just want to share what they’ve made. And even if you don’t love what you’re tasting, you’re still connecting more deeply to the earth you’re exploring – discovering how unique and different we all are through each sip. At vineyards and wineries, it’s like a living art gallery. They want to tell you about the year the rain came too late, or the harvest that nearly didn’t happen, or the family tradition that’s been passed down longer than anyone can remember.

There’s a world of wine knowledge out there – and it’s fascinating. If you want a low-pressure way to taste without pretending, here’s what I’ve learned:

Dry usually means “not sweet.” Crisp means it has acidity (think refreshing, not sour). And if a wine feels “heavy,” that’s body.

That’s it. That’s all you need to know to enjoy the start of its story.

And still, we raise our glass

In many places, wine wasn’t made to be studied. It was made to bring people together. Over centuries, families passed down traditions, and regions shaped identity around what could grow from their soil. That’s why it often feels less about what’s in the glass and more about what’s happening around it.

A little bit of travel only reinforced that.

In Italy, wine lingers at the table just long enough to invite another story.
In France, it’s part of daily life – casual, confident.
In Spain, it’s social glue – passed around late into the night with tapas and laughter.
In Austria, it’s tied to the land itself.

No region does it the same, yet they all make room for it at the table. Civilizations evolved alongside wine. It belongs to all of us, whether we feel like “wine people” or not. Through traveling places where I only know how to say “hello” and “thank you,” I’ve come to see wine as its own language – an appreciation for life and an invitation to connect.

Here’s what I know now:

1. You don’t have to be a wine person to enjoy wine.

2. You don’t need the vocabulary.

3. You don’t have to love every glass.

4. And you certainly don’t have to pretend.

Appreciation doesn’t come from knowledge – it comes from attention. From noticing where you are. Who you’re with. How the moment feels.

At its best, wine is just a way in – a doorway into the world and the cultures that shape it. You don’t need to play the part – just be open to the story.

February 12, 2026
Indulgence that Lingers at El Marqués de Riscal

When you think of a medieval town in Northern Spain’s Basque Country with fewer than a thousand inhabitants, you probably think of winding, narrow streets, stone walls, bell towers, and churches. But Elciego, a small town dating back to the Roman Era, challenges that narrative. The hard-to-miss avant-garde Hotel Marqués de Riscal rises from this town and becomes a luxurious sanctuary for the senses.

Redefining modern architecture

Lead with a question, not a statement, is a philosophy that world-renowned architect Frank Gehry embraced throughout his career. Known as one of the most influential architects of the late 20th century and recipient of the prestigious Pritzker Architecture Prize, Gehry has always chased two simple words: Why not?

That pursuit has given the world icons such as the Guggenheim Bilbao, the Louis Vuitton Foundation in Paris, and Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. To Gehry, architecture is art meant to spark curiosity, inspire interpretation, and hold your gaze. The five-star Marqués de Riscal, a Luxury Collection Hotel, is no exception.

Its shimmering ribbons of titanium and steel rise unexpectedly above a horizon of Rioja Valley vineyards. Its façade curves and bends in ways that seem impossible – fluid and undeniably genius. It’s the kind of building you stare at, then tilt your head, then stare again – like a wine label you’re not sure how to pronounce but know will be good.

With every peak and ripple, it captures the metamorphosis of wine – its wave-like surfaces evoke tangled vines, the roundness of oak barrels, and the graceful pour into a glass.

The building’s colors do more than stand out against the orange and clay tones of the village below. Each shade has meaning: pink for the wine, gold for the mesh once used to protect bottles, and silver for the foil on the cap. From every angle, the building shows transformation, turning liquid into architecture and tradition into innovation.

CENTURIES OF WINE EXCELLENCE

But don’t let the contemporary exterior fool you. This is not just design for design’s sake – it is architecture rooted in centuries of wine culture.

Behind the futuristic façade lies a vineyard with one of the longest and most celebrated histories in Rioja. Founded in 1858, Marqués de Riscal was the first to bottle wine in the region. Within five years, it won its first awards, and by 1895, it became the first non-French wine to receive the Diploma of Honor at the Bordeaux Exhibition.

That pioneering spirit has never faded. In 2024, Marqués de Riscal was named Best Vineyard in the World in the World’s Best Vineyards awards. Its underground cellars – some lined with wines more than a century old – bottle this legacy, while the hotel above celebrates its evolution. And naturally, when you’re here, you don’t just feel invited into art but rather connected to a lineage of centuries of success and transformation.

A retreat for more than just your palate

We’ve established that wine at Marqués de Riscal is more than a drink; it is a philosophy of life, transformation, and renewal. That same spirit flows into the Spa Vinothérapie® Caudalie, where the healing power of the grape becomes a ritual for the body as much as for the palate.

Here, the setting feels completely organic. Cool stone meets warm light, complemented by cedar and teak, to create an utterly seductive space that pleases the senses – all while vineyards peek through panoramic windows stretching across the back wall. Gehry designed this space to touch the soul and harness inner peace, because wellness is never selfish; it is selfless.

Unsurprisingly, many treatments incorporate grapes – not as a novelty, but for their proven benefits. Partnering with the prestigious French cosmetics brand Caudalie, the spa uses products made from grape pips and pulp to naturally exfoliate and rejuvenate. Recognized worldwide by doctors and surgeons, the vine is rich in antioxidants, polyphenols, and resveratrol, which protect the skin, boost collagen, and improve circulation.

The story began in 1995, when Caudalie’s founders Mathilde and Bertrand Thomas discovered that grape seeds contained some of the most powerful natural antioxidants known, at their family vineyard in Bordeaux. They imagined a sanctuary far from modern distractions but surrounded by vines to create a place where “bodies are soothed and souls are regenerated.” Their vision of Vinothérapie® became a reality in 1999, pairing beauty treatments with the ritual of wine culture – and they haven’t looked back since. Today, there are four spas in the world dedicated to the practice of Vinothérapie®. Marqués de Riscal is one of them – and it’s the only location outside of France.

At the hotel’s spa, you can expect indulgent treatments like the Caudalie Grand Facial, a signature treatment that relaxes, restores, and renews to leave your complexion rested and radiant. Or perhaps the Crush Cabernet Scrub, a massage blending grape oil, seeds, honey, and essential oils into your skin leaving it moisturized and smooth. Or even a warm soak in tubs shaped like oak barrels, infused with vine extracts and oils, designed to relax muscles and promote detoxification.

Whichever treatment you choose, you remain connected to nature at every step. It is indulgence and science in harmony – a ritual that leaves you feeling as though the vineyard itself has shared its vitality with you, unfolding like wine: in layers, moments to savor, and a finish that lingers. Like Gehry’s architecture and Riscal’s wines, every treatment is rooted in tradition yet reimagined as something new.

Dare to unwind

Of course, indulgence doesn’t always look like stillness — sometimes it’s found in movement (or in a glass or two of wine).

For those seeking balance and mindfulness, a light-filled yoga studio welcomes both seasoned practitioners and curious beginners. The hotel’s heated indoor pool, lined with black tiles that reflect natural light in dramatic ways, offers a striking place to swim or simply float.

Or step outside and allow nature to add perspective. Bike along winding vineyard paths, past ancient chapels, to the lush banks of the Ebro River. Even a walk through the cobblestone medieval streets of Elciego feels like part of the ritual, reminding you that wellness here is as much about place as it is about practice, where time seems to pause even as it continues to flow.

Wellness here is never one-dimensional. Whether you’re stretching in sunlight, pedaling past vines, or losing yourself in the quiet lanes of Elciego or Gehry’s ribbons, it exists in moments meant to be savored slowly. Everything is done with purpose.

“Some places are remembered for their beauty, others for their history. Marqués de Riscal is unforgettable because it dares you to ask a different question.”

At El Marqués de Riscal, Gehry’s daring design and the vineyard’s centuries of excellence come together to create something singular – a place where art, wine, and life are inseparable. It is a retreat that doesn’t simply offer luxury but dares you to embrace it.

Stay in a Gehry masterpiece? Drink wines crowned the best in the world? Reset at a spa powered by the vineyard? Why not.

November 3, 2025
Hiking the Camino de Santiago: A Path that Waits

One of my favorite songs is Vienna by Billy Joel. In fact, it’s my most played song year after year. I remember the first time I really heard it – not the melody, but the lyrics.

I was a senior in high school facing a pile of incomplete college applications, sitting in my red Subaru outside my ballet studio at 8 p.m., the car still in park.

“You’ve got your passion, you’ve got your pride
But don’t you know that only fools are satisfied?
Dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?”

That night, I drove around my town, the only place I’ve known, with the song on repeat. My future felt uncertain, but these lyrics reassured me that I didn’t need all the answers yet – only faith that the path would wait for me, and time to heal.

Path, journey, roadmap. Different words for how we move forward – toward a goal, a realization, a transformation. Some stretches are smooth, others rocky, and sometimes the signs vanish altogether. But even when we’re lost, we trust that some inner compass will guide us where we need to be.

But what is it about a path that brings clarity? Is it the way it shifts beneath us? The challenges it demands we face? What if the path didn’t have to be invisible? What if there were a trail we could follow that confirmed we were moving in the right direction?

And there is. But you’ll have to go to Spain to find your answers.

The field of stars

The Camino de Santiago, or the Way of Saint James, is a pilgrimage route that has drawn travelers across Spain for over a thousand years. Some begin in France or Portugal, others in small Spanish towns, but through coastal cliffs, mountains, woods, vineyards, and historic villages, all roads converge on Santiago de Compostela, where the body of Saint James the Apostle is said to rest.

The name Santiago de Compostela means ‘Saint James field of stars.’ In the 9th century, mysterious lights revealed a Roman tomb said to hold the remains of Saint James. King Alfonso II built a basilica on the site, and the Camino was born. For centuries, pilgrims have followed these trails – not simply to reach a cathedral, but to search for meaning, great and small, along the way. It might be the pilgrimage of a saint, but it’s a journey that is entirely yours.

Medieval pilgrims once walked the Camino seeking penance, forgiveness, or salvation. Today, many still walk for faith, but some arrive seeking healing, carrying loss, or chasing questions with no easy answers. To unplug. To reset. To indulge in something that cannot be purchased, but found in stillness, silence, and space to breathe.

Onward and upward

It’s no easy journey. The full Camino Francés runs nearly 480 miles, around 900,000 steps over thirty days. That’s like walking from New York City to Toronto, or Los Angeles to the Grand Canyon. But there’s no one “right way” to do it – you can join at any point in Spain, walk a shorter stretch, or choose a coastal or mountain route. Though if you want to earn the official Compostela certificate, you must walk 62 miles or bike 124 miles and present a stamped passport. But in truth, what matters is not how far you go, but what you discover along the way.

And be careful to look for the yellow arrows and the scallop shells that have marked this path for centuries, because if you don’t look hard enough, you might not find what you’re searching for.

By the third day, your shoes will betray you, your backpack will feel like a boulder, and your legs will ache in places you didn’t know existed. And yet, when you drop that backpack on the floor of a stone albergue, surrounded by strangers who share bread, wine, tears, and laughter, you’ll realize that by morning they won’t feel like strangers at all, and you’ll keep walking.

The Camino strips life down to its essentials: walking, eating, resting, moving forward. That’s it. Through that simplicity – which we rarely allow ourselves these days – the noise of the world fades. What’s left is something sharper: the steady rhythm of your body, the quiet of your mind, the reminder that harmony begins with solitude. Because when your body is in motion, so is your mind.

Buen Camino

The Camino teaches us that no two paths are the same. Yes, you might walk alongside the same group of people, but the map you follow is different. The people you meet, the pain you endure, the strength you uncover, the clarity you gain – they are entirely yours. We aren’t meant to live identically. What unites us is not uniformity, but the strength of spirit we carry forward with each step.

So why do people walk it? To find themselves again. To rediscover a version buried beneath the weight of work weeks, schedules, headlines, and glowing screens. To ask: who am I, if I live my one precious life at half capacity?

We all deserve time. Not time filled with distraction, but time that grounds us in the natural world, reminding us it’s enough simply to exist. Thoreau once wrote that he went to the woods to “live deliberately.” The Camino is much the same – a path where nature, simplicity, and spirit co-exist.

To know that you’ve accomplished something both physically and mentally challenging and rewarding. To stand before the basilica and recognize the strength it took to get there. To see yourself in a new light – resilient, capable, renewed. And to carry that strength home, knowing that if you can do this, as daunting as it seems, you can face anything.

The path that already exists

I’ll share a secret: I didn’t write this with a specific path in mind. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn’t know exactly how I’d get there. And maybe that’s the lesson. Sometimes you don’t need to create a new path when yours already exists. You only need to trust the one beneath your feet.

The Camino reminds us of this truth: the path forward has been waiting all along – and walking it is how we find our way.

November 1, 2025