At first I didn't find much of interest. I rambled the area on foot, drove my Alfa here and there on the tiny, wandering roads. The highlands around are barren, windswept. Villages of stone and masonry as well as severe, compact farms are scattered in the valley grapelands.
Neighbors here produce unique marques, using guarded family secrets and ancient privilege.
Even the grape-carts must not be moved from one farm to another for fear of contamination. These horse-drawn carts, while of a style, are all a bit different. One by one I paint them where they sit. A new environment is a tonic for the eyes. We bring to it less than the regular baggage.