As the bus whizzes past lush green vineyards across the Tuscan countryside, I cannot help but marvel.
Low hanging clouds as if kissing the lopsided hills and vineyards scattered as far as my eyes can see.
The whole scene looks ripped off an old, classic movie or maybe an Enid Blyton book.
No intrusion. No human being in sight for miles at a stretch.
Just the countryside, me and of course a mellifluous song, that only I can hear.
Fifteen minutes later, I reach a tiny Tuscan village, San Gimignano. It was love at first sight, with all certainty.
Flowers mushrooming out of nowhere on both sides of the cobbled streets and idyllic houses with windows adorned with flowerbeds.
Quaint, wooden doors hidden behind ivy creepers and vintage letterboxes hung on brick walls.
I am in a village straight out of a fairy tale. A scene where I can picture…
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