GRAND ALBERGO TIMEO --Taormina, Sicily
Clementina 1978 |
When I met Clementina La Floresta, she had already been at the Timeo for nearly seventy years. She was closing in on ninety and her mind had begun to waver, but she was often alert and retained a sharp memory for the distant past.
She was the Timeo’s owner, at least she had been. Her adoring daughter and son-in-law had long since taken over the day-to-day management, but Clementina was usually there, seated regally in the lounge, ready to chat with guests, effortlessly diving in and out of a number of languages.
She had arrived in Sicily shortly after her eighteenth birthday to marry the owner of the esteemed Timeo, already a Taormina landmark after several decades of activity.
Portrait of Marcel Proust 1892 |
“I remember as if it were yesterday,” she once told me. “My very first week in the hotel, I had the formidable task of having to escort Monsieur Marcel Proust into the dining room for dinner. I was shaking like a leaf.”
She soon accustomed herself to being the Timeo’s official hostess, and found herself charming the likes of Andre Gide and D.H. Lawrence (who is said to have written much of Lady Chatterly's Lover there); later Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni. Not to mention the Vanderbilts, the Rothschilds and the Krupps.
At a time when world travel was reserved for the privileged, the Timeo was for connoisseurs.
In the ensuing years when I would return at Christmas, she was less chatty, but she always greeted each guest graciously with a smile, still very much the lady of the manor.
On my last visit in the early eighties, her daughter told me, with tears in her eyes, the hotel was being sold. It was a family tragedy, she said. She and her sisters were born there; it had been created in 1873 by their grandfather..
Interior of the Timeo today (photo Orient Express) |
There had been tensions between the siblings, and two other sisters, long since expatriated to Rome and Milan, had preferred their part in cash. The property was now worth much more than the hotel, itself. It had its loyal following, but theirs had been an old- fashioned management, often wary of the modern world. They hadn’t even wanted a pool, fearing it would attract a less desirable clientele.
The sale had one important stipulation: Clementina and her family were to remain on the premises, and the old lady was never to be told the Timeo had been sold.
In less than a year the hotel had closed down. The buyer ended up in prison, though I never knew why. It remained shut for many years thereafter, before being purchased by the Orient Express company.
I like to think that Clementina died in her own bed.
-o-
In those Timeo years, I had a horror
of being taken for a tourist, and I tended to avoid carrying a camera in public places.
It was foolish, as I was certainly
never taken for a native, no matter where I went nor how hard I tried. I always enjoyed posing
people for my hotel «portraits», but decided that scenic vistas and seascapes were best left to the postcard artists.
Unfortunately, I didn't bother to
keep any postcards either.
For those who might be curious to
see a bit more of Taormina ,
here are a few mostly black and white photos from the first part of the last
century. Though well before I discovered Sicily, they better reflect the Taormina I knew than more recent photos
with lots of cars and hordes of tourists (neither of which I recall from my winter
trips there).
Towards the end of this two-minute
slideshow are three turn-of-the-century pictures of the Timeo. The vast terrace
with its inimitable Grecian columns, majestically framing a snow-capped Mount Etna, is much as I remember. Unfortunately, this outdoor solarium has since been transformed into a restaurant and swimming pool.
Needless to say, none of these
photos are by me. To enter, click on thumbnail below:
click here |
15 comments:
wonderful story!
Dickie
Wonderful !!!!
What a wonderful way to end or begin my week, reading your Hotel Musings. This is so exhilarating. Some of the places we have been and others I want very much to visit. You make everything come alive with your stories.
I do think that part of your wonderful creativity comes from growing up in the South --we all had a way of life that can never be replicated. Well, that is what I think anyway.
I so look forward to more and more Musings. Thank you again.
Your Southern Friend, Vicky
Thank you, Vicky. I am really touched by your comments. Hope I'll be able to continue to keep your attention in the months to come.
This one is really sad. Sad they sold it. Sad you did not take any pics. Sad the cars have crowded the place and I will never see it like you did. I got a little emotional :-) I like emotion.
I like this. And I agree it is a wonderful Friday morning treat. I think you should write one called: Tourista Phobia, Identity and Photography and explore your desire not to be mistaken for a tourist. Your pieces push me to remember things as well. DH Lawrence was a hotel hound. I once spent a night in the room where he lived in the Montecarlo Hotel in Mexico City while writing The Plumed Serpent. When I was there cars drove through the lobby to get to the offstreet parking in the old courtyard. Somewhere I have a photo of me sitting atop Lawrence's ashes near Taos. Frieda brought him home dead to a house he never really liked when he was alive. Keep musing, Frank. You have wonderful memories. - Walt
I just love these, Frank! Is your email list growing?
Thanks, Rebecca. I wish it were!
I do so look forward to my Friday morning vacations.
the story this week is particularly poignant.
thank you!
What a wonderful name - Clementina La Floresta, chimes so beautifully with the tangerine trees mentioned in your first musing about the Timeo Hotel.
I look forward to Florence. Your musings are taking me to places I have never visited and should have done before they became clogged with traffic and tourists.
What a pretty name!! Fruit and flowers.
Clementine looks a gentle, sweet lady. You are kind to remember her and share with us what you know about her (I too want to think that she died in her own bed).
Looking to read you next Friday!
Thanks, Chris and Pilar. I hadn't really thought about the significance in her name. I have just realized that La Floresta means "grove" or "forest" in Spanish. It was of course Clementina's married name.
Loved the latest posting. Made me very reflective on life.love,and all sorts of other things.
Thanks, Don. I am always excited to receive blog feedback, and if Clementina put you in a reflective mood, that pleases me no end.
wow, never telling her that the hotel had been sold
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