Peace to people of good will

Here we are: it’s June, and we’re already halfway through the year. There are projects underway, and new projects to come up with so we can do better in the next six months. Meanwhile, we’re reopening our Case in the mountains, and we’d like nothing more to plan a summer season dedicated entirely to pêsc, which means peace in Ladin.

We need peace like we need air to breathe. Peace amongst ourselves, peace with our guests, who are yearning for time to themselves after months of work. Peace with the brother who we see as a foreigner, but he’s just a person, like us; peace with the land that we use – and tend to abuse, far too much.

The fact is, we hoteliers write to you, we tell you we’re ready to host you – and we think we are. We tell you that our rooms are ready – and they are, but never ready enough; we tell you we have a wonderful spa to offer – but it’s certainly not as fancy as many others. Here, the infinity pool isn’t on the rooftop; it’s ‘just’ a spa pool in the middle of a park with views of Rocca d’Orcia. We tell you to expect tranquillity, though sometimes it falls short, and good food, but with the occasional blunder and perhaps too much striving for haute cuisine at the expense of simplicity. When it comes to rooms, food and a spa, you’ll certainly find superior options elsewhere in South Tyrol, Tuscany or anywhere else in the world. But what we’d really like, beyond the classic hospitality standards, is for you to stay with us and find peace.

Peace to feel at one with a silent landscape early in the morning, when the world still seems to belong to a lucky few. That pure world, which is quiet even during a summer afternoon downpour, or when a boulder breaks off the Dolomites and rolls down the mountain, rumbling as it goes. That peaceful world, which we lose with the roar of a motorbike riding up the Gardena Pass; that world we thought was all ours, but which is brutally interrupted when fighter jets fly over Val d’Orcia.

We’d like the peace of meeting another likeminded guest; someone you know, who returns here year after year. The peace of laughter around the dinner table, with a good glass of Brunello and a plate of canederli served with a warm smile. The peace of being able to regain the sense of time for oneself – without rushing. Because a holiday is best when you don’t cram it with activities so it becomes yet another job, and instead allow yourself to regain your natural rhythm. The peace of not feeling like you’re at home – because home is a place you already know. What we’d like to give you is new stimuli, new perspectives, and a new-found old, new, peaceful humanity.

There’s peace in hugging a larch tree. In listening to good music or reading a book. We see peace, hear it, touch it. And then what? Then it eludes us. Peace isn’t just the absence of conflict; it’s something more subtle, more challenging, always moving. Pace, Pax. An ancient word, and one of the words most laden with meaning.

Etymologically it comes from the ancient Greek Eirene; in Biblical terms, one might think of Aaron, the Ark, the Covenant. For any solid covenant requires giving and receiving trust, not blind faith. The goddess Athena teaches us this when she addresses Achilles as he is brandishing his sword at Agamemnon, who has taken Briseis from him. She warns him: “I come from the heavens to put an end to your fury, if you will obey me. End this quarrel and do not raise your sword.” It’s a moral restraint which does not forbid, but implies a limit. Not a command, but an invitation to reflect. Athena trusts Achilles. She doesn’t believe in a model of behaviour, but in the value of co-existence; to quote the President of Italy, Sergio Mattarella: “We must transmit values of co-existence, not models of behaviour”.

Do we want peace? Let us trust and welcome others, putting our pride to one side. Including the pride of placing the human species at the centre of the planet. Pride renders peace unachievable. The pride of Achilles, his abuse of power, and his destructive force all cause serious damage to his people. One person’s wrong choices can change the destiny of many – something that we’re witnessing happen right now in real life, alas, not in an epic poem.

But we don’t aspire to become tragic heroes. We’d like our guests and staff to feel at peace, and welcomed. Welcomed by us, welcomed by the incredible nature around us. Welcoming and being welcomed; indeed, in Latin, hospes means both guest and host.

A summer of peace and work in serenity: that is our wish for ourselves. Leaving aside our personal beliefs, how beautiful is the phrase “Peace to people of good will”? Because we all need a world that’s stubbornly devoted to seeking peace.

Deep down, what do we all want? Pax, Pêsc, Peace.