Since lessons were learned day one of our chill laid back vacay, and since we decided not to get divorced over Expedia filters, we booked in advance a lovely room in Lugano at Villa Principe Leopoldo. Upon arrival it’s clear that this place is top notch, and at check in we were informed that this hotel is actually 2 properties across the street from each other, and though we are staying at this property, we are welcomed to visit the bar and restaurant across the street at the other property.
The hotel and grounds are bananas pretty and we start snapping away with our phones.
I mean, even the room key is cool.
And my phone (that Siri, she’s so knowledgeable) let’s me know that our location is not Lugano, Switzerland but in fact Gentilino, Switzerland. Cool beans. Nice factoid. We get settled and go down for lunch in the courtyard.
As we stuff ourselves silly we asked our server if we needed dinner ressies and he says this property’s restaurant will be closed but you can eat across the street at their other property. He’ll make the ressies, and we are like, yeah we totes have to check out that other property they keep going on about. Back in the lobby the server catches up to us and let’s us know that our restaurant will in fact be open and he’ll switch our ressies and we are like, no worries fella, we’ll eat at this other place y’all keep going on and on about and he’s like, you can’t.
What? Y’all have been chatting this place up the whole freaking time and now you’re like, yeah, can’t. Please keep in mind that we are in the Italian part of Switzerland so I’m not exactly surprised by the level of difficulty and aloofness here. So, anyhoo, the lovely women at the desks says, you can go there for a drink before dinner but then you’ll have come back here for dinner. Ok? Ok.
Back in the room we swoon over the view in gorgeous Gentilino.
Time to get dressed for dinner and drinks. Now, this won’t be a hard task because this is all I have with me:
We are legit serious about our packing or lack there of. So, mine’s the one without the super cool bandana, and inside it are only two dinner outfit options and they both came from Old Navy-as does the majority of my wardrobe that didn’t come from Target. So I bust out the good ole LBD and a cardi and I’m like, let’s go see this fecking other property everyone is going cray over. So we walk across the street. I snap a pic and Siri informs me that we are not in Gentilino anymore but, in fact, are in Lugano. Cool beans, fun factoid.
Our first clue that Gentilino ain’t Lugano should have been the gentleman dressed like an assassin in a luxury car turning up the drive. He was flailing his hands about and screaming into his, what I can only hope was his hands free phone, though again, these are Swiss Italians so you never really know cause they can be just flailing and screaming at no one at any given moment whilst driving (but more on that panic attack inducing situation later). But we were naive back then, back before we saw how the other half live…in Lugano…where it will become glaringly clear that we don’t belong in about 90 seconds…
Second clue
As we wind up the drive we can’t help but notice all these luxury cars, I mean, like…all the cars, they were all luxury cars. All of them, like cost more than my home kinda cars.
Snapping away, Siri reminding me that this is Lugano with every tag. In my head it went a little something like this: bitch you ain’t in Gentilino anymore, you in Lugano now and you mos def don’t belong here in your Old Navy dress and cardi with your rubber wedding bands and sensible shoes.
As we enter this ridiculously insanely beautiful other property (now I’m getting why everyone kept going on about it) we are informed by the ridiculously insanely beautiful people who work there that there is a “private event” being held by some luxury auto group and basically we can have a drink but then we gotta get our basic Gentilino staying Old Navy dress wearing and khaki wearing asses outta here before any of the beautiful people realize we are there. Got it, check. This place sold Cartier jewelry in the lobby. In the lobby. We def ain’t in Gentilino anymore.
Look on the hubs’ face as he too knows that we aren’t Lugano people, we are Gentilino people:
We are escorted to the courtyard and then we see it…
Oh, holy mother, this is the prettiest place I’ve ever been to! And not just the scenery. Everything and everyone here is beautiful and fancy…well, almost everyone here. There is also us, but then there were spritzes and people watching to be done, so I quickly forget about my pedestrian life and get caught up in the magic.
There was a photographer there and everything y’all! Complete with a cute British assistant who was clearly in charge of running this party. And then we see her. She strolls in and it’s a hot knife cutting through butter. She, btw, is not in an Old Navy dress and cardi and sensible shoes. I’m assuming by the looks of her, her manicure costs more than my yearly income. She’s not just stunning and perfectly put together, she legit knows it.
Now, if this woman is a celebrity and I certainly wouldn’t be surprised, I don’t recognize her but that’s not saying much because I’m pretty oblivious to stuff like that. And the hubs is over here considering divorce for the second time in two days albeit for very different reasons.
Me: you can’t even make money in your lifetime to even stand near this woman.
The hubs: I know, but my charm would win her over.
Me: yes, yes honey, your charm. Please feel free to go over and strike up a convo.
Now, I by no means am bashing myself or any other negative body image stuff…what I’m doing is acknowledging reality. I own mirrors. And I have eyeballs and this woman is a knock out and I’m pretty but I’m in a tee shirt dress for feck’s sake.
Your Honor, I’d like to submit this not so covertly taken photo of the Lugano worthy woman, taken by a not Lugano worthy woman, into evidence:
And to be honest, you can’t really capture her grace and confidence with an iPhone, but you get it. And as you can tell by the people around her, that tee shirt dress I’ve got on just ain’t cutting it. We finish our spritzes as the fancy Lugano appetizers that aren’t for us are starting to be passed around and head back to Gentilino where we belong.
As we exit the property I inform the bellhop that I’ll take the Ferrari station wagon cause a gal’s gotta get some groceries and take (what may be a confirmation that I’m the palest person on the planet) photo by a Ferrari:
Back in Gentilino where a gal can rock a tee shirt dress and a cardi and sensible shoes we sit down to an amazing meal with top notch service.
My point is, even though Siri and everyone else at the other property kept trying to remind me what side of the street we belong on, I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous that thought even is! Our property, in crap ole Gentilino was one of the most beautiful hotels I’ve ever stayed in and the service amazing. I am a small town girl from a small town in small ole South Carolina and Siri or anyone for that matter can’t make me feel unlucky and unworthy. It’s quite true that we don’t belong in Lugano but here’s the thing…we don’t want to belong in Lugano. We thought we were pretty damn fancy in Gentilino, he in his khakis and me in my Old Navy dress and cardi and sensible shoes. Hell, this whole country is so pretty, I would have slept in the car and been happy as a lark (though not really cause I’m old now and get stove up too easily). I like being basic, on the outside anyway. It’s a fantastic way to pack, plus, there’s no room in the backpack for my Louboutin’s anyway-the ones I don’t own because they are cray expensive and my knees would snap out of my body and find a new home on the grounds of cruelty if I put one foot into something with a heel like that. Instead I’ll wear my Old Navy dress and cardi and sensible shoes proudly! But I’m just Gentilino like that.
I mean, we are pretty cute anyway…
The next day, we got our basic asses out of our lovely, quiet and peaceful Gentilino room, had a perfect European breakfast and hit the road.
And I’m going to need all the fuel I can (both physically and metaphorically) get for the horrible terror that awaits me on the other side of the Swiss border: the Autostrada. But more on that later…
Ciao y’all.
#ciaoyall #switzerland #travel #roadtrip #lugano #villaprincipeleoldo
Ciao Y’all 