Postcard from the Lakes

INSPIRATION | CABANA TRAVEL | WORLD OF CABANA

From the hidden charm of juxtaposed villas in a magical folia, to a grand historical palace with Moorish motifs, lush wilderness and formal English gardens, Italy's Piedmontese lakes, Lago Maggiore and Lago d’Orta, offer so much beauty for the curious traveller.

BY CAROLINE FEIFFER | CABANA TRAVEL | 10 OCTOBER 2025

Italy’s shimmering seas have long been my siren song—Ligurian coasts, Tuscany’s Argentario, Campania, Apulia. But a quieter call led me inland, to the great alpine lakes—the Grandi laghi prealpini. Beyond the famed Lago di Como, unmatched in its grandeur, lie lesser-known, enchanting pockets that beckon those seeking calm, charm, and breathtaking views embroidered with history, enough to cause Stendhal Syndrome.

We roamed Italy’s corners for most of the past summer, taking care to avoid the crowds where possible. After a peaceful sojourn at the intimate Villa Lario on Lake Como, our journey carried us further, to Lago Maggiore and Lago d’Orta.

All images of La Foleia © Caroline Feiffer

Winding narrow roads ushered us away from Como’s bustle. After a delicate art of tetris traffic, the road widened, revealing a hidden Eden. Near Lago Maggiore, 30 minutes from Stresa, lies a perfectly placed sanctuary — far enough for quiet, close enough for vibrant life. The neighborhood gave little hint of our retreat: two independent villas for hire, discreet and refined. We circled, then finally found the secret gate to La Foleia.

Lotus flowers bloomed on the pond, where a rowing boat swayed gently beneath a canopy of old pines, their branches bowing like polite gentlemen. A soundtrack of birdsong and the soft trickle of water from a natural spring fed by the Ticino River. Our daughter’s wide-eyed wonder was immediate. “It’s like a fairy tale,” she whispered.

All images of Isola Bella © Caroline Feiffer

La Foleia is a sanctuary of botanical treasures, where two neoclassical villas quietly mirror one another across the pond they share. Villa Ottagonale, with its distinctive octagonal layout, opens through French windows onto a terrace overlooking the pond. Across from it, Villa Padiglione unfurls like a pavilion, its glass walls framing the surrounding green. Though separate in form, the two buildings share a deep harmony, each anchored in a garden of rare trees, botanical species, and stillness.

Though built in the 1980s, the estate feels timeless. Once owned by a botanist and philosopher, whose presence lingers in the lush layers and thoughtful design. In 2019, Milanese creatives Gemma Richards and Niccoló Rignano restored the property, blending antiques, rich fabrics, and a library that speaks to both intellect and instinct.

Days drifted by in the quiet rhythm of reading on terraces, cooling dips in the small pools of the dedicated wellbeing space carved in above the spring, and rowing on the pond and sketching the Monet-like scene with our daughter. Service flowed almost invisibly, setting breakfast and dinner on the terrace with a kind of quiet as if by magic.

One afternoon, we traded this stillness for the open lake, visiting Isola Bella—the most theatrical of the Borromean Islands. Once a rocky outcrop, it was transformed in the 17th century by Count Carlo III Borromeo into a baroque masterpiece dedicated to his wife, Isabella. Terraced gardens bloom with citrus and camellias, while white peacocks roam between sculptures and clipped hedges. Inside, frescoed salons and shell-studded grottoes unfold centuries of family history.

Returning to La Foleia, we left behind the island’s grandeur, the lake’s vibrance, and the promenade’s life for the garden’s quiet embrace. Untamed or composed, each garden is a reflection of how beauty speaks in different forms, shaped by care, instinct and time.

Some journeys are planned. Others unfold like silk slipping through your fingers. Ours was meant to turn homeward, but the spell of northern Italy’s lakes held us fast. Drawn by something soft as longing, sharp as intuition, we detoured to Lake Orta — a name whispered often enough to spark curiosity.

Wide, empty roads led us along the lake’s edge, where paddleboards drifted over mirror-like waters. Orta was softer—looser, more yielding than Maggiore’s grandeur, more open than Como’s polished reserve. It moved to a slower, older rhythm. We passed a minimalist marvel—a house of pale render and dark wood, a modernist breath in the hills, evoking a sense of Los Angeles’ Mulholland Drive. Then, time shifted.

All images of Villa Crespi and Laqua © Caroline Feiffer

Ahead, a minaret-shaped spire rose—dreamlike, improbable. At wrought-iron gates, Villa Crespi appeared—a Moorish fantasy rooted in Italy. Built in 1879 by Milanese cotton baron Cristoforo Benigno Crespi, a Milanese cotton baron entranced by the mystique of Baghdad, the villa was conceived by architect Angelo Colla as a love letter to the East. Today, Villa Crespi remains untouched by time.

Inside, a courtyard wrapped in quiet elegance opened to us. Rooms unfolded like whispered secrets: mosaics danced beneath our feet, marble columns stood silent and grand, starry night ceilings and carved details adorned the walls, while lanterns hung like jewels. Fourteen rooms, each named for an Arab princess.

More than a small hotel, Villa Crespi is the culinary altar of Antonio Cannavacciuolo, whose Michelin-starred kitchen marries his Campania origin with Piedmont’s terroir. Every detail—lacquered woods, embroidered linens—speaks to reverence: for beauty, time, legacy. No pool, but the visual of the lake lured beyond the garden. When we asked about swimming, the concierge smiled knowingly. “You must visit Laqua by the Lake.”

We returned to the modernist, structure we’d seen earlier. Laqua, Villa Crespi’s quiet sister, revealed itself slowly: white geometry and rich wood, like a Zen monastery. A saltwater pool melted seamlessly into the lake. Beneath it, a sunken beach and dock invited choice—freshwater dips or mineral swims. We shifted between both.

Before leaving, we wandered along the lakeshore path into Orta San Giulio, one of Italy’s most beautiful villages—rightly part of I Borghi più belli d’Italia. Founded in the Middle Ages, its cobbled streets wind like verses toward Piazza Mario Motta. From there, a boat carried us to Isola di San Giulio, steeped in history and quiet prayer. Home to the 12th-century Basilica di San Giulio, named after the saint who, legend says, brought Christianity here, the island wraps the basilica like a silent embrace.

On La Via del Silenzio, encouraged to walk in silence, words soften to thought. It is a place of tranquility. Back at the harbor, our visit ends as all Italian days should: with gelato — In Orta San Giulio from Il Banco di Cannavacciuolo — a sweet and final delight.

And so we head home, reluctantly. But the places stay with us: the soft, painterly quiet of La Foleia, rowing across the lotus-dotted pond, reading under the shade of old pines. In Orta, the morning light catching on golden velvet and plush bedding, our eyes drifting across ornate painted carvings. And at Laqua, a contemporary clarity where simplicity becomes the luxury, and every line feels intentional. In a summer shaped by detours, this quiet choreography of interiors and landscapes revealed itself as the perfect destination.