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Time, Wine, and Second Chances  Tuscany, Italy '90s
Tuscany, Late ‘90s – A Time When Wine Was Just a Drink I first found myself in Chianti Classico with no intention whatsoever of becoming someone who talks about wine in long sentences. I was a naïve traveler, more focused on sunsets than the structure of a Sangiovese. I sat down in a small ristorante with checkered tablecloths, where the waiter—a classic Italian with effortless elegance—handed me a glass of Chianti Riserva with a knowing smile, the kind that says, I know something you don’t. Then he told me: “Questo non è solo vino, questo è il passato in un bicchiere.” (“This is not just wine; this is the past in a glass.”) I wasn’t sure what fascinated me more—the sentence itself or the sip I took afterward. Perhaps it was the latitude, but at that moment, I felt like I had missed something profoundly important in life. The taste of cherries and tobacco, the aroma that reminded me of an old library, filled with books I didn’t understand but desperately wanted to read. At the time, I didn’t know what terms like “long finish” or “well-integrated tannins” meant, but I knew one thing—I would start learning about great wines one day. Tuscany, 2022 – A Time When I Knew Why I Came Back  More than twenty years later, I returned to the same place. This time, not as a tourist, but as someone who had spent the past two decades fascinated by wine. This time, I wasn’t just looking for flavors—I was looking for stories. When I landed in Florence and felt the warmth of the Tuscan sun on my skin, I knew this visit would be different. This time, I not only knew what I was drinking—I knew why. I rented an old Italian Fiat 500, known as Cinquecento—that legendary little car from the ‘60s, the perfect symbol of nostalgia, romance, and Italian style. It was made for winding through Florence’s narrow streets or parking in front of a vineyard in Tuscany. I drove along the dusty roads weaving through the vineyards, the engine humming like a hairdryer, but none of that mattered… I knew this land didn’t just produce wine—it told stories through it. At the vineyards of Biondi Santi, where the legend of Brunello di Montalcino was born, I sat in silence, listening to the wind carry the scents of lavender and warm earth. This wasn’t just a tasting—it was a history lesson, a lesson in passion, in how time and effort can create a masterpiece. I was surrounded by people who spoke about wine with such seriousness that I was tempted to ask if they realized they were making alcohol, not the elixir of immortality. Then again… maybe they were?
From Australia to Bordeaux – A History in Every Sip Every journey I take is marked by a wine. And I’ve traveled to 74 countries, on nearly every continent. In Barossa Valley, Australia, they handed me a Shiraz that smelled of spices, tobacco, and leather armchairs in an old club. “This is like Red Hot Chili Peppers in a bottle,” the winemaker said—a flawless balance of chaos and harmony, like a timeless song that leaves its mark. In Napa Valley, California, I sat in a sleek winery where wines had PR managers, and sommeliers looked like startup founders. “This Cabernet Sauvignon has pronounced tannins with an elegant finish,” said the young man in a black turtleneck. Okay, but the real question is—will it make me forget my problems, or will it underline them even more? In Bordeaux, Saint-Émilion, I sat on a terrace overlooking vineyards that had been there for over 300 years. In my glass was Château Cheval Blanc, the best Merlot blend I’ve ever had. It smelled like history. What Comes Next? This spring, I won’t just be drinking wine and traveling—I’ll be studying wine. I’m embarking on a more serious mission, enrolling in wine courses at MASOM. At the same time, I’ll be telling stories. I’ll interview Macedonian winemakers, continue traveling to wine destinations, and meet the people behind the bottles. You’ll read about it all here, on Terroir.mk. But my writing won’t be about scores or technical analyses—that’s not my specialty. I’ll tell you their stories, about the places and the people that make each wine unique. We’ll travel through bottles, meet winemakers, and analyze terroirs—but all with interesting narratives, a touch of humor (often at my own expense), and absolute honesty. Traveling has taught me many things, but perhaps the most important lesson is this—wine, like people, is best judged on the second impression. Some wines introduce themselves as spectacular at first sip but vanish without a trace. Others, quiet and underestimated, reveal themselves over time as the ones that truly stay with you. And life has taught me this: If a wine can’t make your evening better, don’t drink it. If the people you’re with don’t make you laugh, change them. And here’s a thought we all know well— “Life is too short for bad wine.” I would add: …and for bad conversations. So, let’s raise a glass—to the new stories waiting to be discovered! 
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