Page 25 - Terčelj, Dušan. 2015. The Culture of Wine in Slovenia. Edited by Aleš Gačnik. University of Primorska Press, Koper.
P. 25
The play of mysterious
test tubes
I t all started on those rotating stools in the central laboratory
of the Agricultural Institute of Slovenia when, as a young girl,
I accompanied my father to work. We went there on his big
bicycle, chained it in front of the office window and then walked
along the corridor that smelt of yeast straight to the laboratory.
There, my father reached for his white coat, put it on, lifted me
onto one of the rotating stools and then started his magic show.
Magic to me, of course, as I saw chemistry as a kind of alchemy,
while in fact I was only witnessing my father’s “tricks” that were
supposed to cover for the absence of a nanny at home. Usually,
the best scientific achievements result from improvisation. And
anyway, I think my father enjoyed it all as much as I did, as I
know he still sees wine as a “magic” drink.
He poured colourless fluid into a test tube and asked me which
colour I would like to see. “Blue!” I shouted and he added a few
drops of another colourless fluid and immediately it changed to
blue. “Which colour now?” And I said: “Red!” And so we played
scientists and magicians and I could never get enough of it. I
could go on staring at the master for ever; to me his work was
a genuine mystery, even though I knew that to him it was all
just a joke. Inside, I wished that I, too, when I grew up, would
do something exciting and mysterious, something that would
spin me into a new adventure day after day.
Later, no chemistry teacher could make her subject so attrac-
tive in such a charming way. It was other teachers who did
that, such as my history and Latin teacher, who was the first to
explain to me that the science my father was involved in was
called oenology. Until then, whenever I was asked at school
what my parents did for a living, I had said that my father was
a wine expert, which always resulted in everybody in the class
laughing at me, making me embarrassed, as Slovenia is full
of “wine experts” of one sort or another. That was at primary
school. Later, at secondary school and university, my brother
and I were already sampling my father’s banned treasures in
the cellar, often stealing the odd bottle, preferably something
21
test tubes
I t all started on those rotating stools in the central laboratory
of the Agricultural Institute of Slovenia when, as a young girl,
I accompanied my father to work. We went there on his big
bicycle, chained it in front of the office window and then walked
along the corridor that smelt of yeast straight to the laboratory.
There, my father reached for his white coat, put it on, lifted me
onto one of the rotating stools and then started his magic show.
Magic to me, of course, as I saw chemistry as a kind of alchemy,
while in fact I was only witnessing my father’s “tricks” that were
supposed to cover for the absence of a nanny at home. Usually,
the best scientific achievements result from improvisation. And
anyway, I think my father enjoyed it all as much as I did, as I
know he still sees wine as a “magic” drink.
He poured colourless fluid into a test tube and asked me which
colour I would like to see. “Blue!” I shouted and he added a few
drops of another colourless fluid and immediately it changed to
blue. “Which colour now?” And I said: “Red!” And so we played
scientists and magicians and I could never get enough of it. I
could go on staring at the master for ever; to me his work was
a genuine mystery, even though I knew that to him it was all
just a joke. Inside, I wished that I, too, when I grew up, would
do something exciting and mysterious, something that would
spin me into a new adventure day after day.
Later, no chemistry teacher could make her subject so attrac-
tive in such a charming way. It was other teachers who did
that, such as my history and Latin teacher, who was the first to
explain to me that the science my father was involved in was
called oenology. Until then, whenever I was asked at school
what my parents did for a living, I had said that my father was
a wine expert, which always resulted in everybody in the class
laughing at me, making me embarrassed, as Slovenia is full
of “wine experts” of one sort or another. That was at primary
school. Later, at secondary school and university, my brother
and I were already sampling my father’s banned treasures in
the cellar, often stealing the odd bottle, preferably something
21
