Tuscany - August 2025

San Giovese Grapes at Terra di Seta by Claire Silverstone-Bright

Tuscany is more than vineyards and postcards. For me, it became a tapestry of leaning towers, Jewish memory, hidden prisons, and small moments of renewal.

In Lucca, I climbed the Guinigi Tower, where oak trees grow from its roof, a symbol of persistence rooted in stone. Below, the Piazza dell’Anfiteatro curves where an ancient Roman amphitheatre once stood — absence turned into presence, a circle of cafés, shops, and laughter. I walked the walls of the city, feeling the rhythm of history in each step. Did you know ….. The Guinigi Tower’s oak trees were planted in the 14th century as a symbol of rebirth and renewal?

View of the Guigni Tower in Lucca - through the meandering streets of Lucca by Claire Silverstone-Bright

Siena offered me grandeur and memory. Its cathedral dazzled in black and white marble, its synagogue quietly held centuries of Jewish life, and in the stories of Catherine of Siena comforting condemned prisoners, I found echoes of conviction and compassion that felt close to my own work.

The Glorious Synagogue in Siena by Claire Silverstone Bright

In Florence, among the treasures, I sought out the “third David” — one of Michelangelo’s less famous versions, tucked away but no less powerful. Even in a city saturated with beauty, conviction can mean looking for what others overlook.

The Third “David” - Michaelangelo’s Famous Sculpture in Brass - overlooking the city of Florence from the other side of the River Arno - by Claire Silverstone-Bright

Pisa is known for its leaning tower, but I discovered a city where even the Duomo and Baptistery lean, where Fibonacci gave us the sequence of balance and imbalance, and where Keith Haring’s Tuttomondo mural celebrates movement and freedom. Pisa was also Galileo’s city. His conviction that the earth revolved around the sun led to his house arrest, a silencing that reminded me of those today who are still judged for truths society resists. Nearby, the Jewish cemetery spoke of another community leaning but enduring, marking its place in the city’s story.

And in Pisa, I stepped into the Camposanto Monumentale, a cloister filled with frescoes that rival The Last Supper. They stretch across the walls like a painted Torah, retelling the Old Testament almost from beginning to end — Noah, Abraham, Moses, Job. To stand there was to see scripture unfolding in pigment. It reminded me that conviction is not only written in books, but also drawn on walls, sung in songs, and carried in memory. Presence, absence, reinterpretation — all in one cloister.

Beyond Pisa, I visited Terra di Seta, a vineyard producing kosher wine in the heart of Tuscany. Every stage of its production reflects conviction — to uphold Jewish law, to create joy and sanctity in a landscape where Jewish life is often only memory. To taste that wine was to taste continuity, rooted and renewed.

Pitigliano, La Piccola Gerusalemme, was a surprise carved into stone. A town where Jews once found refuge, it still holds its synagogue, its matzah oven, its mikveh. There, I joined in prayer and song, adding my voice to centuries of voices. We sang Im Eshkachech Yerushalayim — If I forget you, O Jerusalem — in Hebrew, in Tuscany, in a place that carries both exile and home. It was a moment of conviction and belonging all at once.

And finally, there was Saturnia. The hot springs, milky-blue and steaming, poured over rock terraces into pools where we sat and laughed and breathed. I dipped into the water — not hummus this time, but healing. Renewal after confinement, warmth after struggle.

Tuscany gave me beauty, history, wine, prayer, and water. But more than that, it gave me conviction: that science can survive silencing, that Jewish life can sanctify wine and stone, that prayers can echo across centuries, and that healing can be found in the simplest dip beneath the surface.

Glyn Ceiriog, Wales

Glyn Ceiriog and the Ceiriog Valley

The Ceiriog Valley is sometimes called Wales’s best-kept secret. Tucked away between mountains, it is a place of winding rivers, stone cottages, and a quiet that feels almost restorative. When I first came to Glyn Ceiriog, I understood why poets and travellers have always been drawn to this valley: it is both a refuge and a passage, a place where the landscape itself seems to hold you.

Nearby stand reminders of history that shaped this part of Wales. Chirk Castle, once a fortress, still carries its weight of power and presence. The bridges of Chirk, Cefn Mawr, and Pontcysyllte speak of ingenuity — carrying water and people across impossible heights. When the aqueduct first opened, the Ladies of Llangollen — two remarkable women who defied convention and made their home together in Plas Newydd — were among the first to cross by boat. Their house became a salon of sorts, hosting poets and thinkers, including Thomas Telford, who built the very bridge they sailed across. To me, their story is one of conviction: of living true to themselves in a world that wasn’t always ready to accept them.

Not far away is Llanrhaeadr waterfall, cascading down rocks with a force that humbles you. Nature here doesn’t ask permission — it flows, unstoppable, carving its own course.

But conviction also led me into darker reflections. At Shrewsbury Prison, now marketed as an escape room, visitors “play” at being incarcerated, solving puzzles inside the cells. It left me unsettled. I wondered: is this trauma tourism? Is it exploitative to turn confinement into entertainment, when real people lived through those locked doors? The question stayed with me — where do we draw the line between remembrance, education, and spectacle?

For me, Glyn Ceiriog is more than a beautiful Welsh village — it is the home of the Glyn Valley Hotel, a property my family and I restored and gave new life. What had once stood tired now thrives again, a small hub of hospitality in the heart of the valley. Its renewal felt personal. I spent my hen weekend here; we made Shabbat together in the valley, singing blessings over wine and bread, making space for joy and tradition in a place where Jewish life had never been prominent.

This post I dedicate to my friend, Charlotte Watkin — whose smile and giggle filled the Glyn Valley Hotel with life and love. Charlotte died tragically earlier this year, and every time I think of the hotel, I hear her laughter in its rooms. To me, she embodied conviction too — not in stone or history, but in warmth, kindness, and the gift of making people feel at home.

Glyn Ceiriog is a place of bridges, castles, waterfalls, and memories. But more than that, it is a place of conviction: to restore what has been broken, to honour those who came before, and to carry forward love, community, and belonging in the heart of the Welsh hills.

Blog Post Title Three

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.

Blog Post Title Four

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.