So far, in just three days, we've been in war bunkers, shiny new tasting rooms, squishy offices, cavernous cellars, windy bare vineyards, cosy rustic tavernas with smoky hearths, and simple wooden dining rooms. Chiavalon, that night, is like a fairy tale.
It's dusk and we're greeted by a shy child running barefoot on a dirt road. We got a bit lost (try backing a 20-seater bus down a dead-end one-way alley barely wide enough to fit a donkey cart) but it looks like we've found the right place. A man comes round the corner and he's holding a bucket...