This summer, I took my annual leave and escaped to Lake Como — to a little gem of a town called Lierna. By the way, I would recommend it if you are really tired and just want to switch off. There is nothing there to remind you of city life — no shopping malls, no office buzz, nothing like that. If you suddenly feel the urge to go shopping (I mean, actually buying clothes or something), you would have to drive to a nearby city. But honestly, it is better to forget about all that, slow down, and just live like a local — exactly as our wonderful landlord Nicole told us.

One day, we decided to explore some local wineries, so we asked Nicole for a recommendation. She immediately suggested a place called IndoVino (save the location). It is tucked away in the tiny mountain village of Narro–Indovero (we even looked it up — in 2021, the whole village had around 174 people living there!).

So off we went. The drive from Lierna took about forty minutes — the first part along a gorgeous road with Lake Como glittering on our left, and the second part a winding mountain serpentine that was honestly a bit intense. But believe me, every twist and turn was worth it.

And then… we arrived at IndoVino.

The first thing that took our breath away was the view. I mean, it is insane. You could just stand there, gazing into the distance with your mouth open forever. The landscape is so perfect — it literally looks like the kind of photo you see on the best stock sites on the internet.

Then we were met by a guy named Mattia Citterio, one of the founders of the winery. He immediately invited us to walk between the rows of grapes while telling us the story of the place.

IndoVino sits high up on the sunny slopes of Mount Muggio. Back in 2012, a local man named Marino Citterio (Mattia's father) decided to do something completely unexpected — he planted vines here, at nearly 900 meters above sea level, in a place that had never really known wine. This area was famous for ironworking and cheese, not vineyards. People thought he was a bit crazy. But Marino believed in the land — in its sun, its wind, and its quiet strength.

Over time, Mattia joined him. He grew up running through these little cobblestone lanes, and he couldn’t just watch the village slowly fade away. Together they brought it back to life, terrace by terrace, vine by vine. They weren’t just making wine — they were reviving a whole place. And you can feel that. IndoVino isn’t just a winery — it is a love letter to this corner of Valsassina.

Wait, what? Donkeys?

While listening to Mattia and admiring the grapes, we saw something grey moving behind the leaves. Then we saw ears… and a head. One donkey, two, three! It turned out to be a little donkey family — a mom and her two kids. I completely forgot the mom’s name, but if I remember right, it was Rose. These donkeys help out around the place — they munch on the grass and, in the process, keep the weeds in check.

We kept walking between the vines while Mattia explained how the sharp temperature changes between day and night give the grapes this beautiful aromatic intensity. He also shared how incredibly challenging it is to grow grapes in the mountains — and yet, somehow, they have done it.

The air was so clean it almost sparkled, and the views… just endless green slopes rolling down into the valley.

By the time we left, it felt strangely hard to go. There was something about IndoVino that made us feel at home — not in the sense of comfort and routine, but in that deeper way, when a place quietly welcomes you and you suddenly belong there. It is the kind of spot you stumble upon once in a while and never quite forget — especially if you are someone who is always chasing the most local, the most real, the most rooted-in-the-land kind of places.