I love Tbilisi deeply and understand exactly how appealing it can be for tourists, but growing up here does something strange. This very romantic city eventually starts to feel like a small town you outgrew when you were fourteen — where every street knows too much about you, everyone seems to know where you’ve been and who you’ve seen, and the whole thing starts to feel a little claustrophobic. Which is maybe exactly why every summer I start plotting a gentle betrayal: a change of scenery, somewhere new to wander, eat, sleep, and spend a few days without falling into the same routines.
The fantasy is not necessarily somewhere grand, far away, or impressive in the way hotels sometimes try very hard to be impressive. More like a room with good light, a breakfast worth waking up for, a road to walk down after lunch, and the strange relief of not being expected anywhere. I am drawn to places that feel lived in before you arrive — stone floors, garden chairs, old doors, mountain air, ferry schedules, handwritten menus, dogs sleeping in the shade, and rooms that make you immediately start inventing a better version of your life.
This is my summer stay wishlist: ten places saved, circled, sent to friends with too many exclamation points, and mentally checked into long before any flight has been booked. Some are close enough to justify as a long weekend. Others require a longer journey, a few extra connections, and the kind of planning I call romantic because I refuse to admit it is logistics. All of them have that thing I am always looking for when I travel: beauty, atmosphere, and the brief but convincing feeling of slipping into another life.
Consider this less of a hotel guide and more of a list of places I would like to temporarily belong to.
Cenerentola Chianti, Tuscany
Set between Florence and Siena, Cenerentola is a group-chat fever dream: an old Chianti country house for twelve, with a pool in the vineyards, a tennis court, and a garden made for long dinners. Less quiet countryside retreat, more elevated, better-fed Love Island — everyone in linen, nobody getting dumped, and the prize is staying another day. It is the kind of place that makes you believe your friends are something closer to a perfectly assembled cast, and that the only reasonable schedule is swim, lunch, tennis, wine, repeat.
The Amber Houses, Aegina
Aegina already feels like Greece’s easiest loophole: close enough to Athens to be slightly spontaneous, far enough to convince yourself you’ve entered a different rhythm. The Amber Houses take that feeling and make it prettier — part stay, part art residency, part excuse to spend the day between the pool, the garden, the sea, and pretending you’ve finally become the kind of person who journals at sunrise. It feels made for the softer side of summer, when doing very little suddenly becomes a personality and you are fully willing to support it.
Dadi House, Martvili
Martvili is western Georgia doing what it does best: green hills, waterfalls, fruit, and beauty that feels casually inherited. Dadi House makes it personal — warm atmosphere, impeccable host style, their wine, and the kind of evening you end up remembering most. It feels like staying with the landscape, not next to it, which is exactly the difference between visiting a place and briefly feeling like you are home.
Domaine de la Cavalerie, La Bastide-des-Jourdans
Domaine de la Cavalerie is for the specific fantasy of gathering everyone you love in one place and becoming the kind of group that eats outside, swims between meals, and knows what time aperitivo starts without checking. It sounds like a whole temporary life rather than a stay: sun, shade, food, water, trees, and voices carrying across terraces. A place for people who romanticize hosting, friendship, and the idea that if the table is long enough, everything will feel briefly, perfectly in place.
Casa Mediterraneo, Kastellorizo
Kastellorizo is already dramatic in the way only a tiny Greek island at the edge of the map can be dramatic. Casa Mediterraneo leans into that feeling without overdoing it — a place where restored houses, ruins, harbor light, and the closeness of Asia Minor make summer feel less like a season and more like a very beautiful inheritance. It is not the kind of island escape that asks you to do much, except look at the water for too long and start making impractical plans.
Alto de Pioz, Pioz
No offense to the obvious Spain, but sometimes the better fantasy is the one nobody has already explained to you. Alto de Pioz feels like disappearing into the countryside with a glass of wine and very few plans, then realizing the quiet version was the one you needed all along. It has the appeal of a place where a walk, a sunset, and something from the land around you can very convincingly pass as a full itinerary.
Chesa Marchetta, Graubünden
Chesa Marchetta is for people who like their mountain fantasies with good wood, heavy furniture, and the kind of silence that makes you suddenly interested in becoming a more composed person. It feels less like a getaway and more like settling into a quieter, more deliberate rhythm shaped by the Alps. The whole idea is extremely appealing: cold air outside, warm rooms inside, and enough visual restraint to make you start caring deeply about chairs and afternoon light.
L’Auberge de la Roche, Valdeblore
Some places do not need a big personality because the valley is already handling it. L’Auberge de la Roche feels like the rare kind of mountain stay that simply gives you space, air, and a view, then politely lets your nervous system do the rest. Nothing here sounds like it is trying too hard, which is usually the exact moment a place becomes impossible not to trust.
Raven’s Nest, Transylvania
Raven’s Nest sounds like the fairytale you wanted as a child, updated with better food, warmer rooms, and fewer questionable life choices. It has that slightly wild, slightly gothic kind of beauty that does not try to be polished — which is probably why it feels like the kind of place that would follow you home. This is for anyone who likes their summer escape with a little shadow, a lot of atmosphere, and the suspicion that the mountains know something you don’t.
Alicudi Casa, Alicudi
Alicudi is for people who say they want to disappear and, for once, actually mean it. Alicudi Casa sits high above the sea like a beautiful dare — all terraces, silence, wind, volcanic horizons, and the kind of privacy that makes checking your phone feel frankly embarrassing. It feels like the end of the world in the best possible way: remote, elemental, and just inconvenient enough to make arriving there feel like part of the spell.
