The rolling dawn mist clears to reveal medieval hilltop villages shimmering in the early August morning sunlight and vineyards so pristine they look as though they’ve been groomed with a fine-tooth comb.
Ahead of us, a maze of chalky white tracks dotted with towering cypress trees lead to honey-stoned crumbling farmhouses and towering churches.
It’s a vision so Tuscan, so perfect, I feel I’m living in a painting. That is, until I’m interrupted.
‘Here you go, Harriet,’ a charming waiter says as he places a flat white on the table before me and soft jazz plays in the background.
I’m in Lupaia, a converted 12-bed farmhouse nestled in the hills of Val d’Orcia in southern Tuscany.
Dating from 1622, the hotel looks more like a hamlet than a farmhouse, with tiny rustic Tuscan terracotta and ochre stone buildings housing suites scattered around the vast estate, surrounded by cypress trees and a vast olive grove that produces the delicious olive oil served in the restaurant each evening.
On our two-hour drive from Pisa Airport (Florence Airport is closer), we merge off the motorway and into landscape that becomes wilder and less populated with each mile.
We squeeze through tiny, charming Tuscan villages and past fields dotted with sheep used to make the famous pecorino cheese until we reach the bumpy 3km white chalky track to Lupaia.
Head of Travel Harriet Sime visits Lupaia, Tuscany with her husband Dan
Nestled in the hills of Val d’Orcia in southern Tuscany, Lupaia is a converted 12-bed farmhouse
Dating from 1622, the hotel looks more like a hamlet than a farmhouse, with tiny rustic Tuscan terracotta and ochre stone buildings housing suites scattered around the vast estate
My husband Dan and I are whisked to our room, the San Biago Suite, which has terracotta floors, exposed white beams, a roll-top bath, open fireplace next to one of the comfiest beds I’ve ever slept in and double doors leading to a private terrace overlooking hills to the town of Montalpulcino.
But my favourite spot is the cushioned window seat where we while away hours reading, stopping to admire the view every few minutes.
Our days are spent alternating between relaxing on the sunbeds and doing laps in the infinity pool, which is framed by fragrant lavender.
Lunch consists of panzanella and burrata salads plucked from the nearby garden patches and is taken under our sunbed umbrellas.
One afternoon, as we reluctantly pack up our poolside bags, I spot what I presume is a wild dog or fox just metres away.
I point him out as a member of staff is walking by – and he gasps and stops in his tracks.
‘That’s a wolf,’ she says in shock. ‘You’re incredibly lucky. Lupaia means “wolf nest” but I’ve only seen one during my time here.’
The hotel is full – but you wouldn’t know thanks to the vast nature of the estate. The arriving guests – each somehow more bronzed and beautiful than the last – look as though they’ve just stepped off the Victoria Secret catwalk or the waves of Bondi Beach.
Harriet and Dan stay in the San Biago Suite, which has terracotta floors, exposed white beams, a roll-top bath, open fireplace
They spend the days alternating between relaxing on the sunbeds and doing laps in the infinity pool, which is framed by fragrant lavender
The San Biagi suite has a roll-top bath for guests to enjpy
Most are American; some honeymooning, others with immaculately behaved children. All are impeccably dressed.
The Austrian owners, Heidi and Christopher, opened Lupaia ten years ago, fulfilling Christopher’s lifelong dream of opening a small Italian hotel.
They checked out 60 properties across the country before settling on Lupaia. ‘When we walked in, we just knew it was the one,’ Heidi says.
That evening is spent at Lupaia restaurant, the oldest part of the building, where we watch as chefs whip up homemade bread and plates of pasta in the open farmers kitchen covered in charming red and white tiles.
It’s instantly clear where Heidi’s feeling of ‘just knowing’ came from; we feel like lucky intruders in a Tuscan home, where parents whisk and chop in the kitchen, children play cards on antique tables and elderly relatives sip local wine by the huge fireplace filled with dancing candles.
But it’s the little things that make Lupaia so special. The gifts left during turndown (we leave with tiny bottles of the estate’s olive oil and pots of local honey).
The Lupaia-branded bookmarks slipped into the pile of novels waiting to be read. The scent of jasmine wherever you walk. The ridiculously comfy slippers left by our bedside every evening.
One evening, Dan and Harriet dine at Lupaia restaurant, the oldest part of the building, where we watch as chefs whip up homemade bread and plates of pasta in the open farmers kitchen
The clucking hens producing the delicious eggs at breakfast. The charming pool attendant who knows every guest by name and arches my umbrella when the sun climbs across the sky each afternoon.
On our last evening, we head to Montelpuciano, a 10-minute drive away. Standing imperiously on a ridge, the town’s 15,000 residents live in green-shuttered medieval houses which have been protected and preserved for generations (no major building works has taken place since 1580).
We gobble plates of pizza in a cellar before walking the maze of cobbled streets while licking sticky pistachio ice cream which drips down our hands and onto our wrists.
As the peach sun smears across the darkening sky, casting lavender clouds, we discuss what’s made this three-night trip so special compared to the dozens of Italian holidays we’ve taken in the 20-odd years before this.
I can’t think of a hotel stay in recent years where I’ve slept so well, relaxed as much or eaten so well – and isn’t that the very definition of luxury?
Lupaia is a triumph and has to be Tuscany’s finest hotel – if not the best in the whole country.
This article was originally published by a www.dailymail.co.uk . Read the Original article here. .