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| Reloaded and Ready to Go Again |
Cinque Stelle Anticipation
Some years ago, Maria Elena and I took a trip out west here in the
States. Along with us were my sister and
her husband. Our trip would take us to
Alaska, a place my brother-in-law was interested in seeing and also served to,
let's say, break him in to travel before they'd accompany us to Italy. The Alaskan portion of the trip would take up
the later part of the jaunt by way of a cruise ship from Seattle. All
told, it would be a peak-to-peak adventure, for before venturing into Alaskan
terrain, we'd enjoy a train ride through the spectacular Canadian Rockies from Jasper
to the shores of the Pacific at Vancouver, British Columbia. It was a five star (cinque stelle) adventure all the way, for we'd overnight in
Fairmont hotels and resorts all along our route beginning in Banff. We'd been promised a wow trip, where we'd sit
with our noses pressed to the glass aboard the Rocky Mountianeer as it followed the Kicking
Horse River and crossed the Continental Divide following railroad tracks that first united Canada,
east to west, 125 years ago.
But as they sometimes sigh alas in
fairytales or alora in Italian, trees,
mountains and dramatic canyons can only go so far. For New Englanders like ourselves, who live
in this type of idyllic landscape every day, the shine wore off quickly. Oh, if we lived in some sprawling concrete
and asphalt metropolis, where they have to think about where to group a few
trees and call it a park, it might have been different. Likewise, later-on in Alaska, we may have
marveled at the sight of so much snow and ice if we hailed from someplace like
Miami, but we don't. You see, Maria
Elena and I are surrounded by forests.
So is my sister. My brother-in-law
makes some of his living from timber sales and I keep busy keeping the forest at
bay out of fear it may overtake my yard.
As for snow and ice, for my emotional wellness, I won't even go there. I'd need to be coddled in a safe zone to avoid
the potential distress of those “micro aggression” moments we hear so much
about lately, triggered in my case when forced to see snow, especially when it’s
out of season back home. So maybe some
of you can appreciate that after an hour or so with our noses pressed against
the glass, we realized just how "seen that, done that" the rail part
of the trip was. For me at least, the
wow part of the entire trip would instead prove to be the fabulous hotels along
the way.
Where am I going with this? I sometimes
find myself asking the same question, but there is a point. We have another trip coming up, this one
guaranteed wow certified. Though not
with my sister and her husband this time, I can't call it a precursor trip, for
I doubt we'll ever get to duplicate it with anyone, not even ourselves. With my sister and her husband behind to
manage forest and snow as need-be, we will travel to Italy this time
accompanied by our son, Christopher, along with his best friend and our “adopted
son”, Stephen. We have been to Italy now
many times. I can’t speak for Stephen,
but for Chris, it will be his first. Yet
while for the most part we’ll be the guides, it is Chris who will be the
facilitator. It would not be happening
without him, for as the Director of Corporate Business Development for a major
travel agency in Manhattan, he has smoothed the way in advance of our arrival
with a fabulous line-up of five star hotels, to include a resort. For over a week we’ll get to inhabit
the Condé Nast Traveler world of luxury hotels.
It definitely comes
in handy to have a son in high places!
This will be an outing highlighted by such fine establishments that,
unversed as I am in high society, I honestly wonder if it might be wise if Maria
Elena and I changed out of our travel
mufti, shall we say, into something more 5-star appropriate, before we check
in!
Arriving on separate flights, at different locations,
and on different days, we begin with a rendezvous in Florence. Again, there are trains involved. Ours, hopefully a high-speed Italo version
that will whisk us there
in about 3 hours, will be coming north from Naples, while Chris and Steve will
arrive from Milan. We will emerge from
the metal and glass sky-lit roof overhanging the main passenger
concourse of Firenze's Santa Maria Novella Station and
head for our home for the next few nights in Piazza Santa Maria. It is in Piazza Santa Maria where we will experience
our first wow when we enter Grand Hotel Minerva. 
The luxury Grand Hotel Minerva is a 100
room boutique hotel in Florence's historic center. It shares the piazza with the Basilica of Santa Maria Novella, begun in 1279 by
the Dominican order though not consecrated until 72 years before Columbus
discovered America. We're told it
has recently been refurbished and features wooden floors in each room along with
soft color appointed walls that host the works of contemporary Florence artists - the newest crop of Michelangelos. A
rooftop terrace with a view across Florence, along with an adjacent pool, should
be especially interesting. Hotel Minerva
is named for the Roman goddess of wisdom and sponsor of arts and trade. In my high school days of yore, a statue of
her stood in the hallway outside the language classrooms at the top of the main
entry staircase. No longer a school, where
she might be today is anyone's guess. A sentinel
of learning, I like to think of her right where she was, holding her spear with
her Greek helmet with its vacant eye-slits cocked back on her head. I'll certainly be on the lookout for her in the
halls of Hotel Minerva and be sure to investigate why this albergo is named in her honor.
As an escape from the formality of Florence, we're next off to another temporary
fantasy, this one deeper into Tuscany at Castiglion Del Bosco, whose beauty is
the least of its assets. Located
there in
the rolling, multi-layered countryside south of Siena we’ll find, with
Margaret’s GPS help, the world class Rosewood Resort. It is not far from two of our all-time
favorites, Montalcino with its Brunello wine, and the Benedictine Abbey at
Sant'Antimo, thought to have originated with Charlemagne when he passed through
with his army. We may come to think of
the Rosewood as an Italian getaway, equivalent to Maria Antoinette’s hide-away,
La Petit Trianon, at Versailles. This
time, however, the queen for a few days will be Maria Elena.
The Rosewood Resort was constructed from the
ruins of a bygone farming community hamlet, Castiglion Del Bosco. Located on a hilltop, overlooking a patchwork
of fields and vineyards that stretch out towards Montalcino, the Borgo was the
center of activity for hundreds of years.
Dominated by the ruins of a medieval castle that gives the estate its
name, its main concourse is a place brimming with memories waiting to be
explored. Within the Borgo, the historic
manor house, old winery, stables, church of San Michele Arcangelo, the priest’s
house, along with other buildings, have all been meticulously restored and repurposed. The village now features two restaurants, a cooking school, an organic kitchen garden, 23 suites, a spa, an infinity pool and a fitness center. We
doubt we'll be able to take it all it during our three days there, but we're
sure to give it a shot. Just looking at
it online, situated in those classic undulated Tuscan hills, peppered with
cypress trees, you'd think we were stepping into a work of art.
We'll of course get to show them Calitri along with our home there. It is our next stop after our stay at the
Rosewood and a long day's ride into the Mezzogiorno. We'll prowl its labyrinth of streets, explore
its castle, and certainly sample its cuisine in familiar places like Tre Rose and Locanda dell'Arco. Lacking
room service, other than what mom can provide, and absent a doorman anywhere in
our humble environs, I wonder what Chris will estimate our particular star
rating might be. A letdown from days of
dazzle and glitz, maybe, but it will definitely be an interesting few days
before we're off again, though initially not far at all. Our next destination will be to the seething bustle
and spectacle of love-it or hate-it Naples.
That "New City" of the Greeks,
what we refer to as Naples today, is a curious place. Forget about the sophistication and polish of
Milan, the ever nascent appeal of Venice, or the refined Renaissance atmosphere
of Florence. In their place, the pulse
of a flamboyant citizenry is everywhere in Naples. Our sojourn in Naples will find
us in the Santa
Lucia district at the Grand Hotel Vesuvio. It occupies prime waterfront on Santa Lucia
Harbor in the Gulf of Naples and lies just across the street from Castel
dell'Ovo. Along with the hotel, the
castle, located on a former island (now connected by a causeway with
the mainland) where 6th century BC Greek colonists founded the original
nucleus of the city, has a colorful history. We'll have to be careful not to have eggs for
breakfast while there. There is no telling where they may have come
from, for legend says that the Roman poet
Virgil, who had a
reputation for predicting the future, put a magical egg into its foundations. If the egg were to ever break, the castle would be destroyed and a series of
disastrous events would befall Naples, but not if we can help it.
The Grand
Hotel Vesuvio, constructed in 1882, has an equally colorful
history. Remodeled many times since, it retains the height of unrivaled luxury and impeccable elegance that made it an important stop for international tourists arriving in Naples for centuries. It has experienced the ravages of war when in
WWII it was destroyed by allied bombardment, only to be rebuilt. The famous have walked its hallways throughout
the years. Included among its
world-renowned celebrities are Guy de Maupassant, Oscar Wilde, Grace Kelly, and
legendary tenor Enrico Caruso, who along with movie mogul Alfred Hitchcock made
the Vesuvio their Neapolitan home.
Today, the Vesuvio has retaken its
place among the ranks of prestigious hotels as a member of the "Leading
Hotels of the World". I've poked my
nose inside the Vesuvio's lobby as a curious passer-by in the past. This time as a guest, my special interest will
be in its roof-garden restaurant named after Enrico Caruso, since
the tenor was once its frequent treasured guest. I'm sure that sometime during our stay in its
old-world opulence, there in the midst of
stunning rooftop views of Sorrento, the island of Capri, and Mount Vesuvius,
I might get to hear the crackle of a 78 rpm recording of Caruso’s voice originate
from an old Victrola record player while enjoying Bucatini alla Caruso (with San Marzano tomatoes of course).
It would certainly be a fitting treat.
The final leg
of our cinque stelle odyssey will
see us once again race
north by rail, this time to Rome, where ancient collides with contemporary. For a final time we'll
steep in formal luxury. Passing through
an ancient looking portal, we'll enter the modern confines of Palazzo Scanderbeg in
Piazza Scanderbeg, only steps
away from the Trevi Fountain. What
better way to conclude our “Grand Tour” then to be able to throw a coin or two into
the fountain in hope of return. This Renaissance
palazzo, first built
in 1465 as home to a famous Albanian nobleman, skilled general and wily
diplomat, has been sympathetically restored into luxurious townhouse rooms and
seven grand suites. One of these suites
that will be our Roman home during our stay.
Just a little overboard, we
understand our suite, The Victory Suite, in addition to featuring a balcony, will include
the services of our own butler. That
alone should prove interesting. While we
can't expect a Jeeves as we might in the UK, maybe a Maurizio will be at our
disposal. In addition to unique individual
arrangements like these, we understand that the suites feature exposed beams,
original architectural details, and views over Piazza Scanderbeg. As with our other temporary stays, all this
can lead to distraction and give us pause.
Instead of exploring Rome's sites and streets, for instance, we just may
be reckless enough to stay inside, content to bask in contemporary luxury.
This adventure will certainly be our Grand Tour, albeit scaled
down considerably from the Grand Tours by men of means in the 18th
century. A cingue stelle getaway like this most likely will be something we'll
never get to experience again. Frankly,
it wouldn’t be possible without Chris’ business acumen and travel connections. I can't speak for all of our troupe, but after
having sampled living in such privilege, by the conclusion of our tour, the bourgeoisie in me will be
in danger of having evaporated, a champagne taste developed on a beer budget. Instead of five stars, the scatter of stars,
millions of them, overhead in the clear unpolluted night sky above Calitri,
will suffice. Needless to say, for my
part, stuck as I am between expectation and anticipation, this certainly has
been a blow my horn brag, a cinque stelle
brag. Am I expecting too much over-the-top
stroking, luxury, and subservience? As I
read the hotel descriptors, are they simply the razzle-dazzle of commercial hype? Need I throttle back on my keen anticipation? I think is was Goethe who once said something
to the effect, “All that has been written is as nothing compare to the
reality.” Like all visions of the future,
including weather forecasts, we'll just have to wait and see how things
actually work out. For my part, beyond
these braggadocios words, I'll be sure to do my adjective-heavy best to write about it.
Well, I'm off. Must pack for this
upcoming, starry debut of ours, all the while wondering if I'd be better served
if I brought along a suit, if not a tuxedo.
From That Rogue Tourist
Paolo
