Siena, Tuscany — August 17, 2024

August 17th. Siena. I came up the hill in the late afternoon and the first thing you see isn't the city — it's the cathedral, striped white and dark, sitting above the brick like a chess piece set down on the ridge. I climbed the winding cobblestone passages toward it. Terracotta tiles, scooters tucked against ochre walls, then the piazza opens and there it is full on: rose window, gold mosaics catching the last sun, an Italian flag hung over the door. The crowd in front was loud and happy. I stood at the edge and just listened. One thing I keep noticing about Tuscan hill towns — the church is always the tallest thing, and every street eventually bends toward it. You don't need a map here. You follow the tower.