OpinionIn this series, My Happy Place, our writers reflect on the holiday destinations in Australia and around the world that they cherish the most.July 15, 2026 — 2:34pmIt’s hard to be in a bad mood when the sun is shining and you’re riding shotgun in a convertible through the Italian countryside.That’s a lesson I learn the first time I set eyes on the Langhe, the winemaking hills that gently cascade away from Alba, a town in the northern Italian region of Piedmont. Still simmering after a fight with my boyfriend the night before, facing a scene of vine-ribboned slopes topped with the occasional huddle of medieval towers, my angst instantly evaporates. I feel like we’re coasting through a fairytale.The views from Serralunga d’Alba look like they might have been painted.iStockMy friend, Rod Smith, and I have made an impromptu detour to Serralunga d’Alba, one of the Langhe’s primary wine villages. We’ve made better time than expected from home in Nice to Lake Maggiore, where we’ve tickets to an open-air opera performance by the water. Rod, one of about 420 Masters of Wine in the world, has a winemaker friend from Serralunga and has called ahead to see if they are free to join us for lunch.A recent import to Europe from Australia, I’ve been working for a wine company in the south of France for two years; that’s how I know Rod. I’m still in the honeymoon phase of living on the continent. The landscapes within a three-hour drive from Nice – in other words, ideal for a weekend break – are so diverse. I’ve camped by sandy beaches near Saint-Tropez, snowshoed through Narnia-style pine forests in the ski hills north of Nice and poked around sun-kissed villages straight out of Peter Mayle’s A Year in Provence. But nothing has given me a shot of the smiles like here.Those smiles grow bigger as I take in the view from Serralunga across a patchwork of vineyards towards the Cottian Alps rising in the distance. The scene is so still it looks like it’s been painted on for background. So clear is the day that we can see all the way to Monte Viso, stretching over 3800 metres high, the tallest peak in the mountain range. According to some, it’s the inspiration for Paramount’s iconic mountain logo.Sign up for the Traveller Deals newsletterGet exclusive travel deals delivered straight to your inbox. Sign up now.Inside the village, not much more than a few cobblestone streets that swirl like a snail’s shell around the 14th-century Castello di Serralunga, we’re joined by Rod’s friend, Paolo Manzone, and his wife, Luisella, for lunch at Vinoteca Centro Storico, a casual wine bar in the shadow of the castle. Over a shared platter of cheese and charcuterie and a bottle of arneis, the local white grape variety, a new friendship is formed.That was 16 years ago. And, while I have no recollection of what the argument with my boyfriend (now husband) was over, the Langhe manages to instantly lift my mood whenever I return. Which is as often as I can.The region has an annual white truffle festival.Getty ImagesPaolo and Luisella’s vineyard agriturismo, Cascina de Meriame, quickly became a base to visit the other wine villages: grand names like Barolo and Barbaresco with my two sisters, plus the smaller places hidden among the landscape such as Monforte d’Alba. That’s where a gaggle of my high school friends from Sydney travelling through Europe and I catch up over local specialities like Vitello Tonato and Tajarin inside Le Case della Saracca and marvel at how we’ve managed to reunite inside a collection of old stone houses transformed into a chic restaurant in a tiny speck of a village in northern Italy.For a long time I swerved the bigger regional centres, preferring the quiet calm of the countryside. But Alba is a powerhouse that, as home base for the Ferrero family, has given the world Nutella, Ferrero Rocher and Kinder. It’s my kind of place: turn a corner and you’ve stumbled across a wine festival in a medieval courtyard or a farmer’s market overflowing with hazelnuts, another point of pride in these parts. The town comes alive in late autumn when it hosts the Fiera Internazionale Tartufo Bianco d’Alba, a celebration of the region’s prized white truffle crop.On my most recent trip, this May, I finally visited the nearby town of Bra, known as the home of the Slow Food Movement. Travelling with my youngest daughter on a work assignment, I stayed on the edge of town in Albergo dell’Agenzia, originally built as a royal estate for the Savoy rulers. In the same complex was the University of Gastronomic Sciences of Pollenzo, or the Slow Food University, as well as the Banca del Vino, a library of 70,000 Italian wines. That night, we ate at Osteria Boccondivino, the restaurant where the movement began. Fresh, local, seasonal, that’s been the mantra in the Langhe long before it took hold around the world.In 2010, on that first visit, I thought I’d stumbled upon an equivalent of Tuscany – without the crowds. For 16 years I’ve been waiting for the secret to spill out. But it still hasn’t — not that you’ll find me complaining.More:My happy placeItalyFoodie travelEuropeFor subscribersOpinionFrom our partners