Adults only. A/C, WiFi, pool, garden, terrace, private parking

I am a farmhouse. An old farmhouse.

Within me, life is simple—much like it once was on the surrounding grounds, where people cultivated grapes—long since gone—made hay, and harvested olives and fruit.

Today, time goes by basking in the warm sun, lounging comfortably on my terrace while sipping an aperitif between dips in the large swimming pool (Open from 9:00 AM until 7:30 PM, from early May to the end of September—when the water temperature drops below 19°C; but can be kept open beyond this period at your request, an additional charge will apply.). where as you swim—not climb—toward Mount Gabberi, which rises before you, feeling you are flying towards him and can almost touch it with your finger.

The air remains filled with the scent of orange blossoms and magnolias. You might drift off for a nap beneath the olive tree.
In my large fireplace—located in what was once my kitchen, but is now a cozy living room (26 square meters)—I can still almost see the great cauldron hanging over the crackling fire, brimming with *ribollita* soup, its aroma once permeating every corner of my space.
In one of them beneath the window, the old marble sink still lies, having survived every renovation. It remains stubbornly in place—a steadfast witness to the life that once flowed through here. A gentle breeze drifts in through my two open windows, barely stirring the light, white curtains.
The ceiling fan hums softly, like a sleeping cat.

On the mezzanine level lies what is now a long, well-equipped kitchen, boasting every modern convenience: a refrigerator with a freezer, a dishwasher, a washing machine, a gas stove and oven, and a microwave. How times have changed! Yet, my old wooden bread chest is still here—though it no longer holds bread; instead, it is filled with plates, trays, pots, pans, casseroles, and baking dishes. And the old wooden beams are still there, too.

Then, I head up the old stone stairs to the large bedroom (30 square meters). Yes, truly large—perhaps even too large! You could easily fit two double beds (160x200 cm) in here, though one is plenty, with a sofa placed at its foot. If the need arises, a third bed—a single—can also be set up. The room is so vast that the air conditioning almost struggles to cool the entire space. I open the two windows that look out onto the terrace below and the garden. My gaze wanders across the hills in the distance—dotted with houses, church steeples, and woods. I try to catch a glimpse of the sea, but the magnolia tree has grown too much. I lean at an angle—a bit crooked—but you have to understand that, back when I was built, the builders followed the natural contours of the land; they didn’t level the ground like they do today to construct sterile, box-like structures. Like all "old" houses, I’m a bit "peculiar"—my corners aren’t perfect ninety-degree angles, nor are they square or clinical like those in modern homes. Perhaps that is where my charm lies. My old built-in cupboard is still here, too—the one where they used to keep preserves and jams under lock and key.

Moving further up, I’ll take you into a little world of its own. There’s a tiny bathroom with a shower, a sink, and a toilet, followed by a larger bathroom equipped with a bathtub, a sink, a toilet, and a bidet. A short, narrow hallway leads to a small bedroom (13 square meters) featuring a large double bed (160x200 cm) beneath a ceiling of wooden beams, from which hangs a quiet, unobtrusive ceiling fan. The air conditioning here works so well that, if you aren’t careful, you might just freeze! The window faces south-east; it doesn’t offer a particularly enchanting view, but in the evening—when it’s left open—a refreshing breeze slips quietly inside. In this room, my owners decided to "strip" one of the walls, bringing to light how I was built and what materials were used. I feel a bit exposed, almost embarrassed.

Climbing the last stretch of the stairs, you reach a simple mezzanine on the right—once used as a storage space—which now houses a small "museum" of relics from the days of field labor and traditional domestic chores: an old sewing machine, a wooden rake, vats for grape must, and baskets for hay.
And then, up here at the very top of the house—which, in truth, is only two stories high—there is a large bedroom with four single beds. From here, you really can see the sea, the entire garden below, and the hills of Pedona across the way. This room also features wooden ceiling beams and terracotta floors, along with ceiling fans and air conditioning—which is certainly necessary, as it gets quite warm in this attic space during the summer.

Well, that’s all there is to tell about me. I hope you like me! One last thing: from here—where I have remained motionless for well over a hundred and fifty years, never once stirring—you lucky people can reach Lucca or Pisa in no more than forty-five minutes, or Pietrasanta in twenty. You can head to the seaside, or go for walks toward the little waterfalls of Candalla, or to the village of Casoli—the starting point for all the trails leading up to Monte Gabberi (rising to 1,100 meters), Monte Matanna (1,317 meters), or Monte Prana (which lies just behind me, reaching 1,221 meters). These are magnificent routes that wind through woods, streams, and high-altitude pastures—a true paradise for what you call "trekking." Places I have never visited myself.
But then, in the evening, you will find yourselves back here—with me. On my terrace, around a table laden with all the delicious treats you can pick up in the shops of Camaiore—just a couple of kilometers away—you’ll find local specialties like *tordelli* (pasta pockets) with meat ragù, *cecina* (chickpea flatbread), *torta di pizzi* (a savory herb pie), *scarpaccia* (a traditional zucchini tart), cured meats from Gombitelli, red wine from the Lucca area, Vermentino di Luni, or excellent craft beers from *Il Mostro Birraio* in Camaiore. The setting is illuminated by candles and solar-powered table lamps—I avoid harsh outdoor lighting, as it’s hard on the eyes—perfect for a dinner under the stars, accompanied by the glow of fireflies and the hundreds of tiny lights twinkling from homes scattered across the surrounding hills. I am certain it will feel as though you have stepped into a nativity scene. And really, what could be better than a candlelight dinner while on vacation? I wish you many unforgettable evenings.