La Villa Bella
The secrets of Umbria through the doors of private villas
a Trip Report by Megan Pickett editor-in-chief of Hotel Bel-Air Magazine,
March 2005

While it is said that one cannot truly understand a country until one has lived there, the villa rental can, for the short term, satisfy travel immersion, revealing a secret side of a country in its most remote pockets. Unlike stays in even the finest hotels, the very point of renting a villa is to be transported to an inner world that is distinctly, intimately idiosyncratic of a place. It is an ideal escape from the fussing and cosseting that a hotel ensures when wishing to go local. Be it a seaside cabana in San Tropez, a sun-baked Provençal mas or a centuries-old, family-owned Tuscan farmhouse, the private villa offers the outside visitor that peek into the private lives of homes less ordinary.

In my case, it was the peaceful, five-bedroom stone farmhouse, Villa Monti, nestled into the rolling green hills of Umbria, Tuscany’s “little sister” which remains relatively buffered from the ravages of tourism. Up a pebbled drive, a good six kilometers off of any real roadway, Villa Monti crowns a hillside with 360-degree panoramic views of what seems to be the entire region, and a clear shot over the charming hill town of Todi (a favorite weekend escape of urbanite Romans and an idyllic representation of Umbria’s historical melting pot of Etruscan, ancient Roman and Medieval influences that keeps this “Green Heart of Italy” beating).

Yet Villa Monti is just one of many villas dotting the Italian countryside from which to choose. In fact, such idyllic accommodations require advance consideration, and while I freely admit to being swayed by romanticized notions borrowed from a weepy E.M. Forster novel, an armchair tour is a must to weigh the pros and cons of the mind-numbing multitude of agents available. Often word-of-mouth advice from experienced villa renters is the best opinion; but with some research, one-of-a-kind places still inhabited much of the year by families who have owned them for years, or in some cases, centuries, do await.

Specializing in private vacation villas and distinctive small hotels throughout Italy, France, Greece and the Caribbean, the West Indies Management Company (WIMCO) has been servicing discerning clients for the past 20 years. A team of well-traveled agents regularly visits and often stays in each of the 1,500 properties represented, and works with local management and concierge companies to ensure top-notch accommodations and on-site service. Even before departure, WIMCO made a point of sending a detailed packet about Villa Monti, complete with driving instructions and tips (when in Italy, pack a sense of humor and an iron stomach), emergency telephone contacts of grounds keepers and recommended local grocers, cafes and restaurants.

Upon arrival, WIMCO’s approach is to hand you the key, show you how everything works, and leave you to your own peaceful devices. We were warmly greeted by the property’s key holder, a realtor from Home In Italy, WIMCO’s continental partner, and the family’s maid of 18 years, Josephina, who had family stories and legends to share, to be sure, had my Italian been up to snuff. We did learn immediately that the house dated back to the early 19th century, with some additions and restorations made in the 1980s by the father of the current owner (a director of the national Italian TV channel, but that was about all we managed to eek out of Josephina).
While the thought of a cocktail hour swim in the circular pool that offered views over the heavy, ripening vines and olive groves was intriguing, the wind had picked up—the first signs of automno, Josephina assured me—and I opted instead to settle into my new digs.

Villa Monti’s décor reeks simultaneously of aristocratic good breeding and laid-back, carefree charm that has seen many years of family gatherings and boisterous bashes. Little wonder, for a central stone fireplace and French doors that open onto the patio overlooking a circular pool—all carefully designed by the family patriarch—practically demands a good house party. We half expected the cast of Gosford Park to descend at any moment for cocktails.

Save for the house’s “bones”—elaborate beamed ceilings, exposed stone walls, terracotta tiled floors—the details offered the only clues to our mysterious owner. All the classic components of a rustic home are there: a large fireplace and hearth whose heady aromas from fires past had infiltrated the needlepoint sofa and ottoman that invited conversation; deep window seats for an afternoon whiled away with a good book; a rich wood-paneled two-story biblioteca filled with tomes in multiple languages about Egon Schiele, investment strategies, Art Deco and billiards—one of the owner’s more obvious passions, as evidenced in the gorgeous entry hall billiard table complete with bronze lion heads for pockets. Ubiquitous botanical paintings and hunting scenes throughout the villa were offset by eyebrow-raising lithographs of libertine ladies and naughty aristocrats hinting to the master of the house’s cheeky sense of humor.

While there were five quaintly appointed rooms to choose from, each with its own full bath (including a Sheherazade-inspired Arab themed room with a domed ceiling painted with gold stars and custom-made Moorish lattice shutters), I couldn’t resist the master bedroom, primarily for its Old World claw-foot tub centrally placed to maximize the views to the west. Outside, a terracotta veranda with wicker lounges overlook a prim apron of rose-lined lawn (noticeably mown the day before our arrival, yet another WIMCO touch). In sum, the house is the very essence of solitude and peace. No room service, no bellhop, just the utter sense of contentment. With not another house for several miles, we could do little but surrender to the local pace—slow, slow, slow.

Ideal for family reunions or a week-long house party—something to consider when planning a villa stay is appropriate usage—a separate entrance on the side allows fellow guests the privacy to come and go as they like, returning in the evenings to the villa to recount their day’s experiences.

While for many, the purpose of renting a villa is to not do anything specifically, have no set itinerary, I was eager to get my bearings, and renting a car or a driver is essential. No sooner had I set my bags down, was I ready to adjust into local mode, not only quickly learning the pragmatic use of shutters as a howling wind storm swept across the valley the first evening, but in the absolute mobility the villa afforded me. Within an hour’s drive I had the best Umbria had to offer: the university town of Perugia and Assisi, both contributing much religious culture to the Italian art scene, and the smaller, less spoiled towns of Todi, Spoleto and Orvieto. Rome, Siena and Florence are each within two hours’ drive, making for easy day trips and hiking, horseback riding, wine tasting (especially of the regional favorite Montefalco Sagratine) and a schedule of summer concerts can all be arranged. We grabbed our map and planned our day’s itinerary.

The sun campaigned hard to beat through the clouds, but to no avail as our first full day was spent visiting Umbria’s capital, Perugia, one of the original 12 Etruscan lucumonies (city states) from the 6th and 7th centuries B.C., and more importantly, home of those famous baci chocolates. Another hour west, Assisi, home to Italy’s patron saint, St. Francis and Giotto’s famed frescoes of the Basilica di San Francesco rounded out a day of sightseeing, returning us to the villa in time for a quick dip in the pool and a trip into neighboring Monte di Castello, to fetch Sunday morning provisions: frusca, a loaf of chewy bread akin to the French batard, milk and eggs. My advice: Go as local as possible. Being a bit of an anomaly in town pays off as the kindness of strangers produces the friendliest results, perhaps in procuring some of the morning’s fresh produce or a link or two of a proud butcher’s hand-cured prosciutto.

For an additional fee, WIMCO can arrange for a cook, butler, maid or child care. Insisting that Josephina take her well-deserved Sunday off, we took advantage of the region’s seasonality and Umbria’s bounty. Menus around Todi were ripe with fresh porchetta, roast piglet stuffed with rosemary, and fagiano all’uva, pheasant cooked with grapes. In autumn, the tartufo, the prized white truffle that permeates the air, is blissfully inescapable, found in risottos, atop pizzas, and the shining star of the local specialty, strengozzi al tartufo, an elegant, uncomplicated pasta dish, especially at the Antica Hosteria de la Valle (via Ciuffelli 19, Todi), a tiny trattoria of just eight tables where taking the recommendations of the owner, who was just finishing Sunday supper with the famiglia, resulted in one of my most memorable dinners ever.

But then, such experiences were exactly what I had come hoping to find. The freedom of a private world that runs according to my own agenda was, in the end, exactly in order. If the villa bug bites hard, take pleasure in knowing that every subsequent holiday can be taken in a different villa, for each has its own storied past with its own perspective, mood, patina and décor; or one can return year after year to the same villa, adopting it as another home.

On our last night, we curled up in the window seat of the bibliotheca to a full moon, crystalline sky and a twinkling Todi. Between sips of the local Montefalco, we swapped our own versions of Villa Monti’s past life, imagining what a convivial, cozy family gathering would be arriving in a few months for the holidays, or whose it would be the following week. At least—if but for a few days—it was still all ours.