A magical morning when I looked down on Tuscany from above the clouds.
“Isn’t anyone here? Are we even flying today?” — my husband grumbles at 6 AM as we arrive at the meeting point. I stay quiet — still a bit sleepy, but tingling with excitement. The morning is hushed, misty, and damp. Then a trailer arrives with two wicker baskets and two giant bundles of colorful fabric. I wonder… which one will be ours?
Within minutes, the quiet countryside comes to life. The balloon slowly fills with warm air, the basket tilts upright, and the sound of the burners breaks the silence. And then we climb in — both literally and metaphorically — into one of the most unforgettable adventures of our lives.
The whole family is together in the basket. We each see something different, but feel the same thing: wonder, excitement, and that childlike awe that only first-time experiences can bring. My eyes dart in every direction — I can’t decide where to look first. The towers of San Gimignano? The vineyards glowing in the early morning sun? Or the golden light spreading across the Tuscan hills?
We lift off the ground. Gently, silently. The world below shrinks and transforms. It feels like stepping into a Jules Verne novel. Cool morning air brushes my face. Below us, the rolling hills of Chianti — cypress-lined roads, silvery olive trees, ancient wine estates, and medieval villages — familiar landscapes seen from an entirely new perspective. A bird’s perspective.
Our pilot — a local man who knows the land like the back of his hand — shares quiet stories as we float above the Val d’Elsa. There’s San Gimignano, Colle Val d’Elsa, and Certaldo below us. Workers in the vineyards look up and wave; we wave back with a smile. For a moment, it feels like we’re all part of a secret club — those who get to see the world from the sky today.
Then comes the landing — on a sun-drenched hillside. It’s a bit bumpy, a bit uncertain, but still perfect. The other balloon touches down in a small ravine. Hard to say which one of us had the better spot. We climb out of the basket one by one, still dazed by the experience. My feet are back on the ground — but my soul is still floating above the hills.
And just when I think it couldn’t possibly get better, the picnic arrives. A glass of chilled prosecco in hand, baskets filled with fragrant Tuscan treats, sitting in the grass, laughing, flushed with joy — and I look out at the landscape we were floating above just moments ago.
A morning like no other.
This is the kind of moment when you truly feel: it’s good to be here. It’s good to be alive.
And yes… another item on the bucket list: checked.