From my Roero Notebooks: A Passenger’s Perspective of the Roads

Posted on September 8, 2026 by drinkinlife

“Don’t forget that the roads of Roero deserve their own story.“ In one of my notebooks from Roero, those words were written between a tasting at Stefano Occhetti Winery and a honey tasting at Mieli Roero. I don’t remember writing them, but they immediately caught my attention as I prepared for my return to Roero. Curious, I began turning the pages to see what else I had written about the roads, only to discover they appeared again and again between my tasting notes, the names of people I’d met, little reminders tucked into the margins, and pages that somehow seemed even more crowded than I remembered.

When I opened my photographs to see if I had captured those same moments, I realized the roads of Roero had been there all along, weaving their way through both my notebook and my camera, waiting for me to keep the promise I had made to myself.

Notebook stories like this aren’t about the places that appear on an itinerary so much as the moments that happen in between. They’re the quiet observations, unexpected conversations, and small discoveries that shaped the way I experienced Roero after I returned home.

Some revolve around the people I met. Others are tucked into long lunches where conversations lingered well after the meal had ended, an early morning walk through Santa Vittoria d’Alba with my camera, and unexpected discoveries that never found their way into my original travel articles.

Now, it seems only fitting to begin with the quiet roads, because every journey starts somewhere, and more often than not, it’s the road itself that introduces us to a place.

Not the roads that appear on postcards or in travel magazines, but the ones that wind through towns and villages, disappearing over gentle hills and leaving you wondering where they might lead.

Where the Road Leads

Roads have always held a certain fascination for travelers. They promise discovery but rarely reveal much about themselves at first glance. They simply ask us to keep going, one bend at a time, never quite certain what waits beyond the next rise.

Perhaps that’s why they have inspired writers for generations. William Least Heat-Moon once wrote, “The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where a man can lose himself.” I’ve always liked that thought, not because I believe travel is about losing ourselves, but because the best journeys have a way of helping us set aside the familiar long enough to see the world, and perhaps even ourselves, a little differently.

When we travel, we naturally focus on where the road is taking us. We study maps, mark destinations, and look forward to the vineyard, the historic village, or the restaurant we’ve been hoping to visit. The road itself often becomes little more than the space between one destination and the next.

And yet, I’ve come to realize that it is often those ordinary stretches of road that quietly shape the journey. They reveal the rhythm of a place in ways no itinerary ever could.

They pass vineyards where generations of the same family have worked the land, through villages where neighbors still stop to talk in the street, and along the routes shepherds, schoolchildren, and shopkeepers have traveled for generations.

They remind us that we aren’t simply passing through a destination. We’re moving through someone’s everyday life. And this is true for the Roero region of Piedmont, Italy. Here, the landscape refuses to be ignored. The geography forces the roads to twist, plunge, and adapt, quietly shaping not only the route we travel but also the way we experience the region. In Roero, the road is never just the way to the next destination. It becomes part of the destination itself.

Where Roero Begins

Roero’s roads are not grand boulevards or dramatic mountain passes. Most are narrow country lanes that weave through vineyards, small villages, and rolling hills, rising and falling with the landscape as though they had simply followed it rather than changed it.

Some travel high along the dorsali, the narrow ridges where vineyards spill away on both sides and medieval church towers rise above distant hilltop villages. From there, the landscape unfolds almost like a painting, orderly and sunlit, inviting you to admire it from a distance.

Then, almost without warning, the road tips downward into the Rocche. The broad views disappear behind towering sandstone cliffs and chestnut forests. The road narrows. The curves tighten. Before long, you aren’t simply looking across Roero anymore.

You’re inside it.

Around the next bend, another village comes into view. A vineyard lane disappears over the next hill. A weathered farmhouse catches the afternoon light. The landscape keeps changing, quietly asking you to pay attention because every turn seems to have another story waiting.

It’s a feeling I suspect many travelers know well. A road catches your attention, not because it’s famous, but because it leaves you wondering where it goes and what you might discover if you had just a little more time.

As our bus made its way from one winery and scheduled appointment to the next, I began to notice the unhurried rhythm of those roads. There was little reason to rush. It wasn’t unusual to slow behind a tractor making its way to the next vineyard or ease toward the shoulder of a narrow lane while another vehicle passed with a friendly wave. No one seemed impatient. The road set the pace, and everyone simply moved with it.

Looking back through my photographs, I realized how often those roads appeared. Sometimes they were little more than the view from the bus window between stops. Other times they led us to a hilltop church, or a long lunch that turned into an afternoon of conversation. At the time, they simply felt like part of the journey. Nothing more.

Only later did I realize the roads of Roero weren’t simply routes on a map. They were gateways to everything that makes this region unforgettable. Before Roero, I probably couldn’t have told you much about the roads that led me to my favorite destinations. Roads were mere gaps to cross on the way. Here, they became something I looked forward to almost as much as the places they connected.

Travel has a way of encouraging us to keep moving, to check another destination off the itinerary before the day is over. Roero quietly asked me to do the opposite. To keep looking out the window a little longer. To pause longer during lunch. To wander without a plan. Somewhere along those winding roads, I stopped thinking about how much I could see in a day and started appreciating what I could experience instead.

It wasn’t until I began writing about Roero that I realized just how much of my heart had found a home along those roads. Only then did I see how those roads mirrored a deeper truth: real travel favors the curious, forces us to linger, and proves that the path itself is our greatest teacher.

I suppose it seems unusual to write random lines in my notebook about the roads of Roero. I didn’t set out to, but they kept surfacing, winding quietly through the background of nearly every memory. Eventually, I stopped thinking of them as scenery and began to understand they had been quietly shaping the way I remembered Roero.

A year ago, I probably would have talked myself out of writing an article like this, thinking that “No one wants to read about roads.” But I promised myself I was done writing only what I thought I should write. These days, I’m far more interested in writing about the things that refuse to leave me alone. Apparently, in Roero, that includes the roads.

Now I’m curious. Am I the only one who comes home thinking about the roads they traveled? Have they stayed with you too?

Continue Exploring Roero

If you’re just discovering Roero, I’ve included a few of my earlier articles below. Together, they offer an introduction to this remarkable corner of Italy and the experiences that first inspired me to return.

To discover even more about the wines of Roero, visit the Consorzio Tutela del Roero.

Thank you, as always, for reading. One of the unexpected joys of writing these notebook entries has been discovering how often our own memories spark someone else’s. I look forward to hearing yours.

About Elaine

Elaine is an international award-winning travel writer, wine writer, photographer, and WSET Level 3 wine professional who believes every destination has a story worth telling. Through Drink In Life, she explores wine, travel, gardens, books, food, and the quiet moments that make a life well lived.

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