I tried to be cool. The marvels of Pisa, the history of Siena, the glamour of Florence had all inspired and impressed me. It happened here, in this meadow not found on any map nor listed in any guide book, that it happened to me: I became a cliché. I could feel the moment overtaking me, yet was helpless to prevent it - it was inevitable. With arms out-flung, head thrown back, I let loose the full-throated cry: Beauty!