So as you can tell from my earlier entry, Rome was everything that I ever dreamed it would be and then some. I really thought that Tuscany was going to be the red-headed step cousin that I would still like, but not really love. So much to my surprise, just barely out of the city limits I was struck by the postcard splendor of the Italian countryside. I almost expected to hear church bells ringing and children laughing the beauty was so complete. Every one of my senses felt engaged, even though I was on a bus and not interacting at all with the environment at large. My eyes drank of the beauty and the taste was indescribably exquisite.
Tuscany not to be outdone by Rome welcomed me with sunflowers. So where Rome is the gregarious lover that makes you fall in love with his vibrance and sheer lust for life; Tuscany is his more artistic sister, that is mysteriously unobtrusive, but no less compelling. She provides you with a feast and ask for nothing more than you to appreciate her beauty as she holds you in rapture.
Where Rome epitomizes the strength, ambition, and political intrigues of the ancient people; Tuscany is quite simply Italy’s art. She seemingly has no greater ambition than beauty. Don’t get me wrong, there is art in Rome, but Tuscany is the very definition of it.