LANA, part two.

Let’s talk summer.

No, really, let’s get into it.

Sit your tush down.

This is a particularly sensitive subject at the moment. If you, like me, returned to London a few days ago just in time for the coldest week of the year, only to find that your boiler is malfunctioning and your flat is now the perfect place to ice your shin splints just by simply being in it (how convenient), then you, too, need an emotional blanket in the form of Warm Thoughts.

Multiple plumbers, one unappetising tookus I did not need to see, one hotel room (oh, pack a bag again, yes good), another plumber, one ‘fix’ (wishful thinking), one snow dusting, multiple icy sidewalks, one roaring/agitated/needs a lithium boiler, followed by this message from “Plumber” (we shall assume this is his profession until he proves it, because here I am Cold and Without Hot Water:

“I’ll come tomorrow. It won’t blow up if you don’t turn it on.”

Oh, k, cool, cool.

If you know me, you know I do just about anything. I know my way around a construction site, I build things, I dig holes, I take things apart. I am my father’s daughter. I now know some— but not enough— about pressure valves, but I admit defeat; I am no plumber.

So this is as good a time as any to finish what I started. Here is My Love for Lana, Part Two.

Which is mostly about Vigilius and Miramonti— two hotels that deserve your attention. Hope you’re not afraid of heights.

If you look at photos of these extraordinary properties this week, you'll see them covered in snow. Charming. But I don’t do winter chains. (refrains from naming pun.) (tempting though)

No, no, you want to see these places when they are green, flowering, flitting with birds and butterflies, and hot enough for a proper outdoor excursion. Swimsuits, shorts, sunhats, and utter, absolute peace.

Hold while I turn the boiler on to take a shower. Sometimes one must risk it for a biscuit.

So, Miramonti. I bet you’ve seen this infinity pool on Instagram or in a luxury travel article. It’s the pool. In real life, sat there at the edge of a ridge above Merano, reflecting the sky as it changes every time the clouds shift… well, it’s possibly the most entrancing piscina you’ve ever seen. 1,230 metres above sea level, on a sunny plateau (and I do confirm, it’s 100x sunnier up there on any given day), one forgets about extraneous things, like cars, stores, boilers… the only thing that matters up on that plateau is that you are listening.

Are you? Listening?

I get a little high off discovery, beauty, and hotels that create a magnificent composition of all of the elements at once: architecture, perspective, vista, scent, rhythm, spirit, details, staff, aura, and the other guests (you know those properties, now ruined by Instagrammers…. RIP).

I’ve been wanting to visit Miramonti for over ten years. When I first started working in hospitality in Italy, I made so many reservations there that I had to cancel on account of plans changing— they probably thought I was a bot.

Still led by Carmen and Klaus, one feels that family touch. Every element of the property is an opportunity to work with a local purveyor, to support the region’s farmers, to celebrate the zone’s natural materials. To think that all of this was created by a couple and their passion, well, it’s quite extraordinary. Am I envious? Yes, a little bit. (It’s my dream to build a hotel, have I not mentioned?)

Here is one tiny thing that remains top of mind: Miramonti’s logo. An M that resembles the mountain on which it sits. The emblem is subtly printed around the property, clever and minimal. Also, every guest receives a forest green duffel bag to carry around the property for all of their stuff, so as not to disrupt the visual consistency. Genius.

Find your vantage point; there are numerous terraces on which there is enough room for only a pair of chaise lounges, giving everyone a chance for privacy. Put your phone away. Listen to the bird song. Do nothing. Or— do everything. Because to sit up there and inhale all that the mountains offer you— that is everything.

The firm that designed Miramonti is called Tara Architects, and credit is due. The style is modern, intentional, and restrained. Think: glass, angles, wood everywhere, and rusted-steel railings on outdoor treehouse-like terraces. Every detail invites stillness. The panorama tells the story. For once, your only job is to just… be quiet.

The relaxation room, lined in long planes of wood and housing daybeds and blankets, has a steep, pitched ceiling and tremendous floor-to-ceiling custom-cut windows. Views glide straight across to mountain tops that tease clouds. So magnificent is the view that I could not read, write, or rest sans guilt. The only thing to do is stare at the changing light over the mountains. Evergreens juxtapose the vision— spruces or firs typical of alpine regions. In the distance, there is a small stone church with a tower, almost as if AI placed it just to show off.

The front deck is most populated, as it’s closest to the infinity pool that blends right into the mountains, so I spent most of the day on the rear terrace, where there was a lovely breeze, a table for my laptop, and Less People :)

At the top level, the onsen pool at midday is a glass mirror reflection of alpine vegetation and blue sky. But a 6pm dip, as the day is beginning to soften, is heavenly. It’s still warm, the birds are criss-crossing over the tips of the trees like dozens of girls getting ready for a party, and the sound of the water dripping off the edge has a better score than my sound machine.

Inside, there are multiple lounge areas flanked in light oak, where beautiful books are displayed. The finish is matte and natural, in line with that contemporary alpine or Scandinavian style. Indeed, there is a zen-like blend here, something reminiscent of Japan, and exquisite use of light birch and skylights— perfect for stargazing.

The fitness centre is more beautiful than most I’ve seen, and the upstairs panelled yoga studio is so impressively crafted that I struggled to leave it.

Harder still was walking away from the infinity pool at that 8pm summer hour, when the blues of the mountain silhouettes leak into each other, and the clear water softens its hue. Wrapped in volcanic slabs and silver quartz, it has a grotto effect on the interior, but when you swim out to the edge, it’s as if you’re floating into the sails of the mountains themselves.

If you visit, please: inside voices and no perfume. The People Thank You.

If you are just jumping in and haven’t read part one, which, admittedly, I don’t remember much of, you know I went to Lana for a few weeks this past July to escape London’s heat wave (ironic, considering) and fell in love with this area of Alto Adige. I did not purposely find an apartment at the bottom of Vigilius, but wow was it lucky that I did. Upon the mountain sits one of the hotels I have most wanted to visit, painted into the land like an imperceptible shadow, but otherworldly if you find your way into its spirit. When I discovered the mind-blowing magnificence that is the mountain itself, well, real estate listings outnumbered all other minimised tabs.

When I lived in Milan in my twenties, I had a love story with a Frenchman, and we planned a discreet little Vigilius getaway one November weekend. I’ve been reading about it since I graduated university and fell in love with hotels. (writer advises, fall in love with hotels, not frenchmen). I stand corrected; it is not strictly for couples. Come here with friends, come alone, just don’t miss it.

Before coffee table books about hotels were a dime a dozen, there were the Hip Hotels books. Do you remember them? I treasured and read mine so many times that it’s now in shreds. Vigilius was there, and I remember thinking, but this red colour— why?! But reader, do not question it. Question nothing. Just… come. After a few hours, you will do as I did, and convince yourself that you can move to the mountains, open a hotel, and live life differently.

(And you can!)

One takes a funicular up Vigilius (the name of the mountain and also the name of the property). Here is the only place where one must channel their inner Audrey Hepburn and not be perturbed by daytrippers who speak loudly, lack personal space, and don’t wear deodorant.

But when you arrive… incredible sigh. It’s mountain heaven. It is indeed 40,000x more magical and ethereal in person. Impossible to transcend, but I shall try in this meagre way, before my fingers go numb (the boiler is off, remember)

Vigilius is a behavioural shift. You won’t understand until you arrive. Within ten minutes, you are a different human. Your eyes are wider. Your priorities shift. You require less.

1,500 metres above Lana, accessible only by cable car, the architecture blends seamlessly with the surrounding nature. Matteo Thun designed the resort to resemble a fallen tree with a wooden lattice facade. This wasn’t immediately apparent to me, but I do appreciate the metaphor.

It’s true, I can be a little wicked, but when left to nature’s devices, I am easily enraptured. By swathes of wildflowers running into mountains and butterflies and heaps of daisies. By whistling breezes and leaves whispering to one another. By sunlight strobes between wood slats. By the genius that is certain architects and by the scents chosen and angles just so and simple recipes and hypnotic beauty that disregards absolutely everything else. Vigilius reminds you how endlessly amazing our world is, and how many corners are worth soaking up.

The property is full of wonders, if your eyes and ears can be as delicate as the environment for a moment. Photos do not transcend the peacefulness or the purity or the delicious melody over the wildflower fields. Do you know, for example, what a pasque flower is? Oh gosh, you have so much beauty to acquire.

Arrive with spa voices. Keep them. The whole time. This is a refuge— the highest tier of tranquillity mixed with …. a furtive slip of sensual energy. If you’re loud, you will ruin both and not quite appreciate either.

For lunch on my first visit, I sat inside the chalet-style restaurant, where I could see the young chef cooking my trout. It was such a divine and simple plate (and quite typical of the area) that I had it multiple times throughout the week. Trout and white cabbage sauteed with curcumin seeds— try it. Immediately upon returning to the World At Large, I went off to find curcumin seeds.

The library is a dream. Upstairs, you can plug your laptop in, open the enormous door that leads to a wood slatted terrace with extraordinary views, and work with a mountain breeze behind your ears. If there is a better office, I do not know it.

I treated myself to time with books. I read magazines. This was… well this is kind of sad to say, but it was Such. A. Treat. Do yourself a favour, go to the mountains, stuff your phone in a spa locker, and read a magazine in the open air. Life-changing.

I could go deep into lyrical poetry about Vigilius— the mountain and the resort— but I will save that style of prose for my books. After approx one year and two weeks of xmas vacation needling a manuscript that I just could not fall in love with, on my last day of break, I started something brand new. Pray for me.

I will likely be back on the mountain in six months, working from the glass-walled library at Vigilius, ideally on book five by that point. Discovery is my favourite thing to acquire, but returner I shall be. Heaven is a sea of wildflowers midway up the cable car.

Lana packing list:

- Trail sneakers

- Hiking boots

- sweater for the morning (elevation…)

- lots of sun hats (or just one, but if you’re me, 9)

- swimsuits

- a german translator

- a german tutor

- a german

kidding you can get by with italian.

So, add to list:

- your best Italian