Villa San Michelle: A monastery with a difference
We drove up the twisting hill ten minutes’ north of Florence. We came out of a sharp U-bend to be confronted by a gravel path, flanked by formal gardens with statues. At the end, about 600 feet away, you have your first view of Villa San Michele’s two-floor high facade, some 60 feet wide. Attributed to Michelangelo, it is simply – breathtaking. A school teacher-like fellow came immediately to take our bags, we went through glass doors into a de-sanctified chapel, the altar ahead of us. To one side, at an ancient ecclesiastical desk, stood concierge Maurizio Ammazzini and a colleague. We were quickly checked in, but our room was still being done (we were early). Free wireless was available in the garden, so through I went, to pick up messages.
I could have used the computer in a room off the lobby but our room – if you can call it that – was ready. The Michaelangelo Suite, which in turn had been monastery library and headquarters of Napoleon Bonaparte, runs the entire length of the facade. Redecorated in 2006, it now has polished terracotta brick flooring, and grassello toscano, limestone plaster-brushed walls that go up to a barrel ceiling. Two windows overlook the front garden, and another faces south down to Florence: they have solid wood shutters, and cream drapes and full-length curtains. The room is dominated by a big carved surround for a decorative fire and, opposite it, by the burgundy canopy, suspended from the ceiling that hangs over the king-size bed made up with linens. The old-fashioned wood wardrobe has artisan wood and pink-padded hangers. There are two library-look cupboards. One holds the fax that is beloved of Orient-Express founder James Sherwood, the other has tea and coffee equipment. Another, more traditional, cupboard, has a Sony Bravia flatscreen, plus DVD and, beneath, a minibar. Wall pictures are 18th century-style romantic countryside scenes, in gold frames. The carved table that acts as desk has, above, European, UK and US sockets, and data port. All desk material is beautiful Italian paperwork, from Il Papiro in Florence. Cards give details of the pool (open from 9am) and the courtesy hourly shuttle to La Rinascente department store, downtown.
The bathroom occupies about a sixth of the entire length, and the main decoration is a ceiling-high rural fresco on one wall. There are adjacent sinks, a deep-set tub, and large toilet and glass-fronted white Carrara marble shower areas. Toiletries are a mix of Bulgari, Molton Brown and Penhaligon. Towel robes, like the stool cover and bathmats, are beige: other towels are white. There is a heated towel rail. We look everywhere for our personal safe, cannot find it; a room maid comes in giggling, shows us (as I guess many bewildered guests) that it is in a discreet cupboard behind the full-length drapes of the small window that looks into the hillside.
We explore the myriad of interior public rooms, ideal for small parties. Weddings often taken place in the former monastery refectory, one end wall dominated by a Last Supper fresco. We climb way up to the heated outdoor pool, managed by a charming guy who looks like a young Oddjob in white pyjamas. White lounge beds have white mattresses, towels and umbrellas. Mobiles are supposedly banned here. At 4.30pm a waiter offers fruit kebabs and Oddjob offers very-cold white towels. I try out the 24-hour gym, which has a stunning view far down to Florence.
By Mary Gostelow
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Courtesy of kiwicollection.com
