My wife and I, for our sixtieth birthdays, just took our long-, long-awaited Euro trip: Provence to Tuscany by car (Specifically, as I am an automotive writer, a Mercedes two seater SL AMG55, courtesy of M-B.) in twenty-one days. Four hotels stood out.—I.R., New York
Le Saint Paul 86 Rue Grande, St.-Paul de Vence (33) 4-93-32-65-25; fax: (33) 4 93-32-52-94 www.lesaintpaul.com What a wonder! Here we found the most enthusiastic staff and also the fittest, as there are forty-odd steps up to reception from what must be the narrowest streets in all of France—the wide Mercedes only just fit. The village of St.-Paul is on a hogback ridge first settled, without doubt for its defensible topography, when man first ventured here. Many centuries ago, the walls of the village rose out of the living rock, and their medieval forms define the crowded village today. There are a number of hotels, but only one named Le Saint Paul, cheek by jowl with art stores on every side. The whole town is a high-class tourist trap but a must-see! We had the highest room in the hotel, and its rooftop balcony gave us views for miles around. We were the first guests in the newly decorated room, and we enjoyed the most elegant bed and bathroom of our entire trip. There were potted ferns and flowers, a glass-walled shower in which you could have square-danced and a charming canopied bed. The food, of course, is all you would expect of the rich south of France. The hotel’s Web site is a knockout and a wholly accurate portrayal: what you see is what you get. Don’t miss the audio!
La Mirande 4 Place de la Mirande, Avignon (33) 4-90-14-20-20; fax: (33) 4 90-86-26-85 www.la-mirande.fr This hotel is located not far from the Pont De Avignon itself. Indeed it’s practically under the walls of the Palais des Papes that separates the walled town of Avignon from the Rhône River and its famous half bridge. About 700 years ago, La Mirande was built for the cardinals to the Pontiff. The Popes decamped to France when early-14th-century Rome was not at all welcoming. Today the Palais is an architect’s dream: a silent witness to French history and an anchor to the surrounding wine country of the Rhône and Châteauneuf du Pape. The village of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, literally “new château of the Pope,” twelve miles north of Avignon, is a mandatory visit, a gaunt presence atop the highest point in the region, uninhabited since World War II, ravaged by Allied gunfire on the stubborn German observation post it provided. The wines of the Rhône, as fascinating to the palate as those of Bordeaux but often a quarter the price, are the specialty of La Mirande’s hushed and graceful dining room. The menu, determinedly handwritten—in classical French, of course—is superior to that of the nearby much-lauded restaurant of Christian Etienne. One night we discovered that the diners next to us had a very well-behaved dog under the heavy tablecloth—such are the delights of French life.
Borgo San Felice San Felice, Chianti (39) 05-773-964 www.borgosanfelice.com This was the highlight hotel of our twenty-one-day trip through Provence and Tuscany. It’s an entire tiny village on top of a Tuscan hill that was bought out more than ten years ago by an agrotourisme company. And what a job they did turning all the buildings—even the old church, now a modern-art whimsy—into a delightfully cohesive, sprawling resort! The surrounding fields were turned into vineyards, where the Borgo produces its own red and white labels in the heart of Chianti. The hotel grows virtually all its own food, not least herbs, in a massive and tranquil garden. Swallows fill the air. The tiled floors of the rooms are cool underfoot. The spa rivals those on New York’s Fifth Avenue. We also found the best pool of the trip here, as well as the best food. You could explore the whole of Tuscany from this base, and you would look forward to getting back each day like a dog to his basket—it’s that cozy and, for the sophisticated palate, that superior. The crunching of dun-colored gravel underfoot and the color spectrum of ravishing plants remain with me even today.
Hotel Brufani Palace 12 Piazza Italia, Perugia (39) 075-573-2541 www.brufanipalace.com The staff made our visit at this place. Discovering that I had failed to get a sixtieth-birthday present for my wife, Judi, before the trip (and unable to explain nipping off on my own once we were there), I called the Brufani Palace, where we would be staying on her birthday, and asked if they could arrange a selection of jewelry. A stream of frantic covert e-mails from public laptops in preceding hotels counted down to our arrival, so the wide-eyed receptionists were all atwitter at the romantic Brit/American couple arriving that day. Fortunately Judi’s father had called to leave a birthday greeting, giving the staff cover to say something to my wife when we arrived at midday, but still keep my secret. A trip-defining birthday dinner ensued, with extravagant surprises and success, aided and abetted by the dining staff in full song—this is Italy after all. As for the present, this was no dip into a crass hotel gift shop. The owner of the jewelry store himself arrived on his Vespa (what else?) the next morning to take back the unchosen pieces. The Brufani Palace, right on top of Perugia, has elaborate views from every window, magnificent curtains, acres of bed, tall halls and brilliant bathrooms. In the evening, an easygoing parade of walkers, coffee drinkers and revelers can be found along the spine of the old university town, ambling between the ancient buildings over centuries-old cobbles. In the warm Italian night, the mood was so convivial that we didn’t feel like tourists at all. A word of advice: the hotel’s Web site does not do it justice.
