Laqua by the Lake

We arrived in Pettenasco, a small and verdant hilly village on the edge of Lake Orta, a little over an hour northwest of Milan, at about 7pm. It was the middle of July, we’d come in by train (a plane, a bus, and three trains to be precise) from London via Linate. It was humid, dusk had fallen what felt like prematurely; the last light obscured by dark rain clouds. The air was heavy and we were knackered. 

A short cab ride dropped us down from the implausibly pretty train station to Lacqua by the Lake – a stepped cream and brown edifice which recalls Frank Lloyd Wright’s iconic Fallingwater – on an otherwise innocuous back lane, just off the main road running through the village. 

A large wooden gate seems to purposefully protect the privacy of the small estate. We buzzed for reception and the gates opened slowly before a revelation: straight ahead, we could now see the magnificent blue of the lake itself, and through the mist just about make out the hills on its far side. To our right, the pristine infinity pool, the terraced garden, and the glass-fronted restaurant overlooking it all. 

Suddenly to our left, a slight, sprightly young man we would later learn was called Andrea skipped towards us, arms flailing, a mop of unruly blonde curls bopping above his smiling face. 

‘Ciao! ‘ello! Owww arrrr you-ah?’ he said in perfectly-accented Italian English. 

His cheeriness and levity seemed at odds with the unbearable weight of the atmosphere and storm clouds gathering over the lake. But in a single moment, he had made us feel welcome. Andrea would appear, intermittently, and with the same boundless energy and infectious enthusiasm, during the course of our 48 hours in the hotel. 

He even appeared, as if by magic, in the local pizzeria a couple of hours after our arrival. Andrea’s colleague – a more serious but no less personable, professional, nor hospitable front-of-house by the name of Davide – had convincingly persuaded us to make the short walk down the road to Vecchio Forno, a restaurant specialising in Neapolitan-style pizzas. 

Andrea was there picking up a takeaway for himself and colleagues, which was oddly disarming, but encouraging. It’s difficult to know the extent to which these experiences are governed by circumstance – in truth, I often wonder whether circumstance is the point – but, regardless, it was one of the best pizzas I’ve ever eaten. 

Technically, it was excellent – the dough, the cook, the freshness and simplicity of the ingredients – but the moment, too, was just right. We’d spent what felt like an age travelling, and it hadn’t been easy. We needed to be comforted and nourished. 

The storm eventually came: a crashing of thunder and lightning all through the night. By the morning the sun we’d hoped to see had come out. And then, by 1pm, the clouds had gathered again. It stormed again. Torrential rain then gave way to glorious sunshine, not a cloud in the sky – which would last for the remainder of the day. Our moods, too, had changed. We lay beneath the hot sun, we slept, we swam, we read. 

From the moment we arrived until the moment we checked out, Lacqua by the Lake was immaculate: from the manner of the staff, the temperature of the rooms, the weight of the bedding, to the space inside the walk-in shower; from the calming, smoky scent emanating from the reed diffusers in reception, to the cans of sparkling water dispensed by the pool. 

Small touches, too, didn’t go unnoticed. Apparently specially made Etro toiletries came in metal tubes. ‘It’s nice not to handle plastic,’ Mrs Smith observed. 

Everything feels like it’s designed to make relaxing as, well, relaxing as possible. It’s a space in which you can make your own experience; present are the conditions necessary for rest, recovery, and fun. 

All of which are practised or facilitated by its staff, whether that’s Andrea, Davide (who told us he’d spent his day off swimming in the lake), or Aysun ‘Suni’ Brey, the personal trainer who put us through out paces on the opening morning with a so-called ‘stretching’ session (more like tough pilates); or Khiali, who stewarded the area by the pool with humour as well as seriousness. 

If I’m honest, we did raise an eyebrow at the €15 side of (good) fries for Mrs Smith’s caesar salad, and the slightly under-seasoned €25 club sandwich, and for those of us who like music, the slowed-down, slightly naff covers of songs which deserve better diluted the atmosphere a little. But the locally made LaTresca bionda beer was much more interesting and enjoyable. And dinner, meanwhile, is clever and, in places, dishes from the set tasting menu can be delicious. 

Inevitably, you could say, guests here are surrounded by wealth – of water, of the elements, of activities to choose from, and that of other guests. As such, it made me think of two films by the Oscar-winning Italian director Paolo Sorrentino: the Roman decadence of La Grande Bellezza, and the slow, faintly tragic convalescence seen in the Swiss Alps in Youth. 

The thing is, for better or worse, Sorrentino’s films and their subjects are mesmerising. And so is Lacqua by the Lake – through all of its people and its place, both in and on the edge of nature, it will take you in and you will leave feeling different.