Once upon a time there was a Queen... who had a Villa

There are cities that never end to surprise you.
They're that kind of cities that had a very long History, intense and rich of ups & downs. Those cities that have mysterious and slightly sly ways just like an Experienced Woman, but that at the same time manage to keep the class and the aplomb of the nobility to which they belong.
A nobility that might even be decayed, that might even be transformed into working class humbleness, but that, when it's real and genuine, still keeps its own dignity and beauty.
And, maybe, it even manages to catch you by surprise with some unexpected discoveries, just like when you climb up to the attics of old palaces, and you find a dusty chestbox to rummage.
Turin is undoubtely one of these cities.
And its attic is the Hill, where it's situated the Villa della Regina (Queen's Villa), a small and precious jewel forgotten in a chestbox.

Down from the Rabbit's hole in Valentino Park

I wasn't planning to visit this place yesterday.
And actually I wasn't even planning to write a post about it.
But sometimes unplanned things turn out to be beautiful surprises: just like Alice, you get curious and follow the Rabbit down in the hole, finding out a new realm of wonderland... even when the "wonderland" is actually a place you know already pretty well.
But sometimes there are days, special days, when you simply get able to see things with new eyes, under a new light, with their beauty suddenly exploding, like a firework that turns the everyday sky into a feast.

10 reasons to love Turin (part 1)

I love Turin.
Might sound easy, since it's my hometown, but it hasn't really something to do with that: I mean, it's not much that I'm born here, but it's more like I couldn't have been born anywhere else. No, not even UK. I would want to be born in UK - but I am born in Turin, and I belong to it.
And Turin is like a cat.
It's elegant, in a natural way that might look sober for most of the time, but that can surprise you with sudden swirls and sparkles that have their own amazing harmony and grace.
It's indipendent: it doesn't really look like the typical Italian city, it has a sort of more Mid-European allure, with maybe a tiny bit of Britishness. It's out of any cliché and has its own personality - like it or not. It's Italian when it likes to be Italian, French when it likes to be French; it struggles between being cosmopolitan and staying pent-up in its withdrawal between the Alps - but you can tell it's just 100% Turin all the time.
Like a cat, it doesn't always reveal its best side to anyone: it can scratch or it can purr - depends on its mood and how much you click with it. But for those who know how to take it and that can guess the right way to caress it, the effort is totally worth it.
Don't worry, anyway: it's getting a more and more friendly and sociable cat within the latest years, and expecially since the Winter Olympic Games of 2006 when it finally decided to reveal itself to the world, wearing its best dress.
Turin wasn't much considered from tourism before 2006 - basically because tourism wasn't considered by Turin, then. But then one day it woke up and got tired to be considered an Ugly Duckling while instead it was a swan: Lonely Planet writes that "It's the most beautiful among the less known Italian cities - or, if you prefer, the less known of the most beautiful Italian cities" - and I find it a very fitting definition.