In Amalfi, an Ancient Home Gets a New Look

Conjure up an image of the Amalfi Coast. It’s probably something with azure skies, sparkling water, and kaleidoscopic hotels and villas clinging to the sides of cliffs. It’s an area that never needed any help with becoming popular. After all, Emperor Tiberius vacationed just off the coast here a couple of thousand years ago. But it certainly benefited from its star turn as the location for many a film in the golden era of Italian cinema. That glitzy lifestyle of leisure the Italian filmmakers were able to portray so beautifully turned into something of an obsession for Americans–la dolce vita. The rich, photographed in all their glory here by Slim Aarons, kept coming and so did the tourists looking to emulate them. It was all a fantasy of leisure and sophistication on a made-for-film set.

You might hear a complaint about crowds, but when it comes to living out their dreams here you’ll almost never hear people talk about rain. Unfortunately, when visiting last month I landed in the middle of an unusual rain storm affecting most of Italy. I was in Amalfi to experience rapidly expanding Anantara’s latest remodeled location— Anantara Convento di Amalfi Grand Hotel which is also The Daily Beast’s latest selection for Room Key.

To say the weather put a damper on my mood is an understatement. We were picked up by the hotel’s car service in central Naples for the hour-and-change drive to the hotel. For anyone who’s ever attempted this challenging road, you likely remember the point when you enter the cliff side with those vertiginous curved roads hugging the steep coast. Memories of those breathtaking views might be the only reason to take the road. But in my case, driving through the clouds is all I can really remember.

That is, until I stepped out of the car and was greeted by the hotel staff with a warm smile and a bowl full of lemons. They invited me to smell one in hope of helping with the car sickness. I’m a scent guy and have to say I want that scent bottled and shipped as I have never smelled such fresh lemons in my life and doing so immediately made me feel better.

Embedded within the ancient cliffs of Amalfi, the Anantara property is set inside a 13th-century convent. This building has lived many lives, and was most recently a NH Collection hotel. Last year, a major renovation of the hotel and grounds was undertaken to bring it under the Anantara brand. (Both are part of the same hotel group.) More upscale dining, plush beds and furniture, and a new spa exemplify this switch from the more economic NH to Anantara. The centerpiece, though, remains the historic building of which many original details remain. Most importantly that includes the Baroque church where weddings can still be hosted.

After a few elevator rides I was finally inside my room. Clean, lime-washed walls, sand-color curtains with modern pieces of artwork, lamps and chairs decorate the spaces. The rooms aren’t huge, but in normal Amalfi weather that’s irrelevant as they face the Mediterranean and you can open the suite doors to large terraces. Not only does it make the whole space expansive, but brings in warm scents of lemon from the hotel's garden and sea air. On my terrace with a glass of prosecco and a cigarette I think I started understanding the idea of la dolce vita.

A core component of luxury hotels nowadays are the experiences they offer guests. When the seemingly implacable fog and rain lifted for a few hours I went on the hotel’s vintage Fiat tour. In pursuit of a cinematic moment we cruised around the surrounding towns and villages, taking in as much as we could in that glimpse of decent weather. When we returned, the hotel’s main restaurant, Dei Cappuccino, had a tasting menu (which included some dishes inspired by the hotel’s monastic origins) from celebrated Italian chef Claudio Lanuto prepared for us with a deep-dive tasting of regional wines.

Part of being a good traveler is rolling with whatever comes your way. There’s probably a great proverb about how resistance to the hurdles along the way only makes things worse. However, since Sorrento was just on the other side of the peninsula from the hotel, making lemonade out of lemons feels like the apt cliché. So instead of the sun-soaking seaside vacation I envisioned, I got something more resembling a mountain retreat. With the rain came freedom from feeling pressure to see everything. The directionless fog wreathed around the property gave the stay a somnambulant aura, slowing it all down. In the massage treatment, actual rain drops on the roof provided the sound therapy. A welcome change from something growling from a machine.