This palatial hotel on the shores of Lake Como is enchanting and life-enhancing at once

I am sitting in the corner of my suite overlooking Lake Como on the top floor of Passalacqua, a grand 18th-century villa, in what I believe is the perfect writing spot. The air is cooling from the heat of the day, and the chirp of crickets echoes around me. Through the window to my right I have vistas of the glorious landscaped gardens following the bend of the lake, while to my left, I see the rise and fall of a series of mountains, alive with trees, that form a dramatic backdrop to the elegant villas framing the edge of the water. I can see why Vincenzo Bellini chose to stay here in 1829; it is a retreat so conducive to creative endeavour that he composed two of his best-known operas during his sojourn; one of these, Norma, is, fittingly, the name of our suite.

Our sense of wonder began four days ago as our car emerged from the tunnel at the southernmost point of Lake Como on our way from Milan. After a night in the city—frazzled from the dense heat that seemed to emanate from every surface—my husband Tom and our two children were aching to be by the water. But as we drew up to the gates of the villa and the scene unfolded before us, our expectations were surpassed. The villa itself, the colour of pale egg yolk and home to 12 of the 24 suites, was itself something to behold; majestic, yet hidden—a jewel along Como’s shores. The structure was commissioned by Count Andrea Lucini-Passalacqua, and became a centre of gravity for visitors including Napoleon Bonaparte and Winston Churchill. Four years ago, it was acquired by the de Santis family, who run the Grand Hotel Tremezzo. They restored the intricate mosaic floors and trompe l’oeil ceilings, then commissioned furnishings including hand-blown Murano-glass chandeliers from Barovier & Toso and Fortuny silk lampshades, as well as filling the rooms with antiques they had collected over the years.

On arrival, we instantly set off to explore the terraced gardens. These are accessed by a steep and sweeping path—fringed with sprightly agapanthus—that seem to reveal some delight at every hairpin corner, whether the pool, the coops for the chickens that lay the eggs served at breakfast, the vegetable garden, the open-air gym by the ancient olive grove or, most excitingly, a series of underground passages that were used as bunkers during World War II. We settled in the poolside area—a scene straight from a Slim Aarons photograph—where the irreverent clashing patterns on the furniture are the vision of the designer JJ Martin. My two girls instantly made friends with other residents (both big and small) and occupied the pool—an event that would recur often, while my husband and I refreshed ourselves with ice-cold sparkling water and plates of calamari.

Breakfast was a highlight of each day; we’d walk through the Dame Salle—a sky-blue room filled with portraits of women and decorated with an extraordinary foliage-inspired Bronzetto chandelier—to the kitchen, where a plentiful spread of fresh fruit, bread, cured fish and meat, Sicilian granita with brioche, and eggs cooked to order were on offer.

Activities were laid-back and easy. On the morning of the second day, I went for a yoga-and-fitness session next to the rose garden, within a ring of magnolia-trees. There was a fun gelato-making class in the kitchen hosted by the proprietor of Gelateria Le Giuggiole, based in the nearby town of Moltrasio (where Tom and I later ventured for a beautifully simple fritto misto and osso buco supper in a homely restaurant). We headed down the road to the hotel Villa d’Este, which was celebrating its 150th season, for a dip in the floating pool, a boat ride and a lunch of tonno tonnato (ruby slices of tuna, silky with rich sauce). One evening, we took a ride out from Passalacqua’private dock in its vintage boat, Didi – all sleek gleaming wood and Loro Piana’s yellow stripes—for a glimpse of Como, cruising past George and Amal Clooney’s villa and guest house, as well as Gianni Versace’s former home. On another, we stayed on site for dinner while the children were with a babysitter. We sat under candy-striped canopies, with swallows in flight keeping us company overhead, and lingered over cacio e pepe with bottarga, and beef tartare, before sipping lemon G&Ts in a quiet garden spot, in what felt like an illicit tryst.

When I reflect on our time here, I can only conclude that the unique nature of the stay lies not just in the spectacular fairytale surroundings, but somehow in the soul of the place. There’s a sense of famiglia—while residents are respectful of each other’s space, there is somehow also room for a kindly sociability we did not expect. Indeed, I shall also miss my writing spot, but perhaps I will be back here again.

This piece originally appeared in the October 2022 print edition of Harper's Bazaar UK