Orvieto, Italy

After our days in the quiet splendor of Vicenza, we took a train and headed south into the Umbria region of Italy. The light seemed to soften, and the air was filled with the scent of olive trees and warm stone. We decided to stay in a quiet, small village before heading to Rome, where we would meet our friends. Our road wound through the hills of Umbria until we finally saw Orvieto, rising above the valley like a vision from another time. The town sat on its volcanic cliff, with its ancient walls glowing golden in the afternoon sun.

We booked a small agriturismo, a bed and breakfast just outside the old city walls, and it was there that we met Rosanna. Originally from Florence, she told us that about ten years ago, she had come here seeking a simpler life—a life focused on her children, her home, and the rhythm of the countryside.

When I asked if we could stay with her, she didn’t hesitate. “We’ll find a way,” she said, her voice warm and certain. She even offered to meet us at the train station, and true to her word, she arrived with a welcoming smile. From the very beginning, she treated us not as guests but as friends returning home.

Her house is nestled at the base of Orvieto’s great walls, surrounded by olive trees and a small garden.. The rooms are simple, filled with the scent of wood and the aroma of brewing coffee downstairs. In the mornings, sunlight spills through the windows, and you can hear the church bells ringing from the hilltop above. On the terrace, we would sit with coffee and watch the world awaken — farmers heading to the fields, swallows circling above the vineyards, and laughter coming from the kitchen where Rosanna and Isabella prepared our breakfast.

She is one of those rare individuals whose kindness seems effortless. She ensures we have everything we need, offers quiet advice about what to see in town, and somehow always knows when we’re ready for another cup of coffee or glass of wine. As I watched her move through her day — tending to her family, her guests, and her home — I realized that this, too, is a form of beauty: the beauty of simplicity, generosity, and authenticity.

Orvieto itself is magnificent, with its cathedral rising like a jeweled crown above the stone streets, but it is this quiet kindness that has stayed with me the most. In Rosanna’s warmth, in the serenity of her home, and in the unhurried rhythm of Umbrian life, I discovered something more precious than monuments or museums.

I was reminded that beauty isn’t always grand or distant; sometimes it’s as simple as being welcomed, cared for, and made to feel at home in a world that can feel so vast.

You are loved.