Asti: Where the Wine is Smooth and the Hills Are Not

The blog has a new feature from now on! After a lot of gentle nagging, Pascal finally did it. You can now react to posts with hearts, thumbs up, and more (just below the pictures). So please go ahead and use them generously. It really means a lot to us to see your reactions, and it makes me feel a little less like I’m talking to myself. The possibility to comment will even be coming later on.

So how would I describe today? I’d say: authentic. That’s actually the word ChatGPT used for the town of Asti, and it fits perfectly. We’ve left behind the flat agricultural plains of the Po and entered the peach and apple orchards, vineyard-covered landscapes of Piedmont. And with that, of course, come… the hills. Cycling is then getting truly… authentic 🚵🏻‍♀️🚵🏼. Our legs are definitely feeling it tonight. Hauling our heavy panniers up those hills is no joke. But at least it makes the Barbera d’Asti feel well earned. And I have absolutely no guilt about eating all this gelato.

Asti is a “chill” city, as my teenage kids would say. With the relaxed vibe of a Friday evening and the gentle spring weather, people gather on terraces to enjoy aperitivo. There are very few tourists here, which makes it even nicer. So we did the same, sampling Moscato d’Asti and Barbera wine. I also discovered that Asti has its own Palio, just like Siena, held in September. And yet another stunning cathedral. Every town we pass through continues to amaze us with its buildings, towers, and churches.

We’ll keep heading through Piedmont, getting as close as we can to the Alps. We’ll cross them by train, though, because despite all our determination, our bikes are simply too heavy for serious climbing.