Very hotely: Lefay Dolomiti, get lost here

Laura laughs when I tell her this I want to spend more time listening to the birds. I’ve been doing it (trying to do it) for not that long, maybe two years, I think it’s happened to me since our travels go. closer to the forest, to the earth, to this strange feeling don’t be too clear about where you are, when or why. I wrote a phrase in front of Ullswater, in the Lake District, it was the dedication of the book Birdsong, in a time of silence by Steven Lovatt: “To those impressed, who cannot hear the birdsong.” I think that I always felt imprisoned in a life that wasn’t mine. Maybe that’s why I like listening to them.

Since those days Lefai Dolomiti I regret not spending more time on what they say now bird watchingwith how beautiful our language is without the need for anglicizations: listening to the birds sing. We must (always) re-read Delibes to understand the world around us: “I wake the silence of the mountain, a dry, transparent silence, thick with the smoke of breath. From time to time the intemperate crow of a crow. In the mornings when the fog lifted suddenly we were startled by the coreche of a partridge.” As soon as I arrive at the hotel, in Trentino, I talk to one of the gardeners, he is cleaning a rose bush, I think I recognize a weed, he smiles: “È possibile”. He tells me about pheasants, partridges and neighbors. But not now, the cold. I tell him that, sometimes, svelte clouds cover the Madrid sky.

Reach out to Lefay Dolomiti, member of Preferred Hotels & Resorts (and Beyond Green for its environmental commitment) It’s like a trip down memory lane, it’s strange because we’d never set foot in Pinzolo, the beautiful little town that houses this hotel. You ask me a lot when a hotel is a hotel and when it’s not — you just know: spaces where detail reigns supreme, places to be, a story that turns into an experience. The beautiful things. Beauty just because. The resort stands proud somewhere among the Italian Dolomites (their snow-capped hilltops look like knives cutting through the sky) opposite the Val di Genova, behind us the steep peaks of Grual in Madonna Di Campiglio, one of the skis, it seems, with more art for you snow lovers. I’m one to stay in the cabin with a book and a glass of wine. Or two.

On the bed a card with a statement of intent: “For anyone who still wants to be surprised and who likes to get lost.” We spend the days walking between the mountains, we walk the path that can be felt between the peaks of Corno Alto and d’Amola, We cross the river Sarca di Genova, we reach Lake Nambino. We trace the route of the waterfalls in Val Genova on a map: Nardis, di Lares, Folgorida, di Casina Muta and del Pedru. We are told (we believe) that it is easy to see brown bears and roe deer in the Adamello-Brenta nature reserve. It’s funny, it’s not tiring to walk when the only thing around you is wonder. Here it happens to us at every step. We spent the afternoon at the spa, this area is rarely my “cup of tea”. but that’s another move—I don’t think I’ve ever seen a space devoted to care like this. From one of the saunas, only wood and glass, we look at the snow-capped mountains. The fire crackles in the room, in the morning a cup of coffee warms my hands, knowing where you are. It’s the only important thing.

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