Slowing down off-grid at Eremito in Italy
Catherine Turner treats herself to a restorative retreat in Umbria, where she discovers tears of release, delicious, homecooked food and welcome new perspectives
Eremito is remote. It’s properly off-grid in acres of unspoiled land. No roads, no light pollution, no mobile signal. Getting there involves a flight to Rome, transfer to the city centre train station, then a local train (in my case two, as I missed the direct connection). But I’m not fazed. Feeling overwhelmed by post-Covid life, to the point of cracking, this is a much-needed opportunity to get away, and, travelling solo, a chance to pause and reflect.
About 14 hours after leaving my London flat on a grey, wintry Monday, I’m alone on an empty platform in the Umbrian countryside in the pitch black, greedily breathing in the clean, crisp woody air. Within seconds, Eremito’s live-in host, Manuel, introduces himself, sweeping up my bag, leading me to his car for the last leg of the journey. I’m a happy tired. Before long, we’re on a rough track passing untamed fields edged in dense woodland. At one point, a large wild boar emerges out of the shadows – we stop to let it cross in front of us.
“How easily this place makes it to slow down to its rhythm. How just a couple of days of authentic hospitality in a sacred, safe space surrounded by unspoiled raw nature has given me room to process what has been an intense time. It has given me exactly what I wanted and needed”
Soon we arrive and I follow Manuel into the candlelit entrance. It’s warm and there’s a church-like stillness with peaceful sounds of Gregorian chanting filling the air. Within minutes, (without any check in palaver), I’m in my room. The soothing lavender aroma and exquisite pared-down simplicity (based on monk cells or ‘celluzze’) is immediately relaxing. Everything you need for contemplation and restoration is here – nothing more, nothing less. Ancient yet modern, lived-in yet fresh, walls are whitewashed with exposed stone, there’s a shower and loo behind a hessian curtain. I wash my hands in the humble marble basin using the natural soap provided.
Then it hits me – there is nothing to do until dinner and I immediately busy myself unpacking, until I realise ‘nothing to do’ is the thing I’ve been craving. Why resist? When I finally surrender and lie down on the bed with its fine, wrought iron frame, the softness of the sheets and the quietude is so enveloping I think I must be dreaming. To my surprise, a stream of tears begins to roll, and it’s pure release. At some point, I hear the sound of my breathing and check the time, just as the bell is rung for dinner.
In a silent, candlelit ritual, one other female guest and I sit refectory-style side by side. It’s intimate, yet not awkward. There’s water and wine in front of us – we pour for each other even though we’ve never met. Delicious course after course is served: a plate of hot sautéed courgettes; rustic lentil and vegetable soup; frittata, rich, next to a bitter leaf salad and finally sticky, tart, caramelised baked apple with cinnamon.
A second bell signals the end of silence, and we retire, satiated, to the lounge area on cosy cushions and day beds in front of a roaring fire. Conversation flows naturally, Manuel drifts in to chat, as does Enzo, Eremito’s wonderful chef. He brings shots of homemade aperitif which melts us even more. We sit for a while before bed. It’s only 9pm, but I cannot wait to hit the pillow. As soon as I do, I fall into a contented sleep, deeper than I’ve experienced in ages.
My last thought – I must set my alarm. I don’t, and instead wake to the sound of gentle birdsong while it’s still dusky dawn. I’m in the habit of meditating first thing, and head up to the tiny chapel at the top of the building. I light a couple of candles and sit on a cushion, eyes closed. I sense others arriving and we continue, in silence, until someone reads in Italian. Not sure what the reading is, but it feels nourishing.
Still imbibing the peace, downstairs, shafts of radiant sunlight are streaming in through the windows. Enzo offers me a steaming hot coffee and I sip it out on the dew-sparkling front lawn overlooking the vast valley under a vivid blue sky. Back inside, breakfast is set out in the dining room. We chat as we tuck into bowls of granola and yoghurt, homemade cake (thick slices of choc chip loaf), bread, cheese and fruit. And more smoky coffee.
My fellow solo traveller and I part ways for the morning. I decide to go walking. It’s warm, the bright light bouncing off huge oaks and other trees – gleaming gold, rust, copper, rich berry reds. I sit on a rock by a stream – dipping my hands into the icy clean water, feeling alive and free. Listening to the rushing sound, I find myself contemplating water’s power and fluidity to move around any obstacle, before I make my way back.
Wandering the hotel gardens amongst red, white and yellow roses, a fountain and emerald green grass, I spy an outdoor terrace with the table set for lunch. We eat with warm golden sun on our backs – four courses which Enzo brings from the kitchen. Bean salad with celery and red onion to start; broccoli pasta with a touch of chilli heat; pumpkin croquettes and green salad and dessert of zesty lemon semifreddo. So fresh, practically everything is grown here on the land, otherwise locally. As we sit, eat and talk, a butterfly flutters by; a fluffy white cat ambles along.
In the afternoon, I stride out into the forested valley – it feels good to get moving after lunch. I keep walking until I reach the stream, higher up this time. Even though this is the middle of nowhere, there are little signs, so I don’t feel lost. I sit once more as the sun fades and the chill sets in. Once back, I warm up at the small but perfectly formed spa – all to myself. The steam softens my post-walk muscles, the jacuzzi offers gentle massage. Everything melts to the soothing chant soundtrack.
After a shower, I change for dinner though there’s no rush or need to dress up. Everything seems to unfold organically. The ‘programme’ is around three meals, with twice daily meditation optional, yoga classes as add-ons. Marcello, Eremito’s owner has arrived from Rome, and talks with us until it’s time for more delicious food. It feels decadent, homely, holy even, being served scrumptious pizetta; bean and mushroom soup; salad of green beans and tomatoes followed by baked pears in red wine, clove and cinnamon.
Visiting yoga teacher Kay joins us with Manuel and Enzo for after dinner conversation. We speak freely, easily – we’re all facing and processing ‘big things’ in life in different ways – which feels deeply connecting. Kay offers a morning class, so everyone retires to their beds. That night, I find myself wide awake watching the night sky, sparkling with countless stars. A stream of ideas and inspiration well up. I write everything down very fast – new perspectives on seemingly embedded problems arises as if from nowhere. I go back to bed feeling lighter, knowing this is what I came for.
At silent meditation next morning, the room’s full with us two guests, Marcello, his son Matteo, Manuel, Enzo, Kay and a few others who all live and work here. Marcello leads the session and it feels completely collaborative and inclusive – a privilege to be part of. It’s not dogmatic or religious, but an open connection on a human level.
Later, fuelled by breakfast, I head up the hill path at the back of the hotel. It’s cooler but still bright, and I take in the smells, sounds and sensations. Everything seems alive and vivid. I stop to take in the view, as a luminescent, metallic blue dragonfly floats around. I sit next to an oak tree for a while, feeling its ancient strength, letting it support me, soaking up a primordial, restorative stillness. It’s my second (and last) day, though it seems like I’ve been here forever.
As I savour the remainder of my final day and night, I think how easily this place makes it to slow down to its rhythm. How just a couple of days of authentic hospitality in a sacred, safe space surrounded by unspoiled raw nature has given me room to process what has been an intense time. It has given me exactly what I wanted and needed. A haven for solo travellers which offers heartfelt respite from the endless demands of modern life. I leave feeling spiritually uplifted, truly cared for, refreshed and full of positivity. It’s well worth the trip.
