Over five centuries ago, a handful of Tuscan city states lifted Europe from the throes of the Dark Ages and made Western Civilization the dominant culture of the planet. So much so, that if little green men were monitoring us, on reaching Earth they would not need to ask some hapless farmer for directions to our leader, they would know precisely where to go. This one enlightened region gave law to the English, science to the Germans, taught the French how to eat - almost, and then electrified the world with its art, literature and architecture. Amazingly, much of Tuscany remains as it was during the Renaissance. Nothing that works requires any change. In fact, the more Tuscany endures, the more we, spinning on our frantic wheels, pray that it does.

The fragrant countryside belongs to the cypress and the pine. In stately rows these tall, narrow sentinels rise above the vineyards to guide us towards the sheltering arch of an old stone farmhouse. On the not too distant Tuscan coast, wide sandy beaches lie at the edge of rolling hills dappled with Etruscan crypts, stately stallions and herds of prized Chiannina steer. Across the waves, Elba, Giglio and Montecristo, three more pieces of Tuscany, glow like emeralds on a sapphire sea. The Tuscan sun, adding glory to what man, nature and time have achieved, paints and repaints the entire tableau from an endless palette of heavenly color.

We come to throw ourselves at the marvels of Siena, the Medici of Florence, the elixir of the vine and to heal our emptiness by the pool. We will leave awakened to our lives spent rushing nowhere. This beauty, in perfect proportion, is deeper than it seems. It frees the mind and fills the sail of our soul with meaning. Among those hills we will be like Tuscans, if only for a while, unshackled from a dungeon of machines and the cold, dim comfort they provide in return for the essence of our lives.