On the fourth day of February ’26, we came to Vigilerhof.

Tucked away near the foothills of the Dolomites, with a direct view toward the breathtaking Parco Naturale Sciliar, Hotel Vigilerhof immediately felt like somewhere we would love. Quiet. Wooden. Warm in that honest, mountain way.

We stayed in their Spa Suite — and I still think about it.

Eighty square meters of pure wood and softness. A private sauna inside the apartment. A freestanding bathtub. A beautiful walk-in shower. And outside on the terrace — our own jacuzzi, steaming in the cold February air. It wasn’t just a room. It was a full spa experience, completely ours. Morning light through wooden panels. Snow resting quietly on the balcony. Evenings in warm water, looking out at white hills. It was exactly our taste — natural materials, earthy tones, nothing excessive, everything thoughtful.

The main pool and relax room became our favourite shared spaces. The design, the positioning, the way the windows frame the landscape — and that view of Sciliar rising in the distance. Dramatic and steady at the same time. Floating in warm water while watching that massif stand guard in front of you is something I won’t forget.

Above the pool, on the snowy hill, horses. The most beautiful horses. Blonde silhouettes moving slowly across the white landscape. It looked almost staged, but it wasn’t. Just another perfect winter detail.

One evening they surprised us with something we had never experienced before — a kitchen party. Instead of sitting at our table waiting for dinner, we were invited straight into the kitchen. Music playing loudly. Lights turned off. Only candles flickering. Chefs singing while cooking. They asked us, right there, what we felt like eating. We stood among them while they prepared our dishes, laughing, tasting, talking. It felt spontaneous and alive. Not a performance — just pure joy around food.

Every day around 5 PM, something simple became our ritual. In the reception area, they would light the fire. Soft music in the background. A piano nearby. Guests slowly gathering, sitting quietly with tea or a drink. That corner soon became our favourite place in the whole hotel. There was something about that hour — the light outside fading, the fire inside glowing — that made you naturally slow down.

One night, from our beautiful wooden suite, we watched the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games on television — happening only a few kilometres away, here in the Dolomites. It felt surreal. Sitting in our private spa suite, wrapped in blankets, while something so big was unfolding just beyond those mountains. For a moment, it felt like we were part of something larger.

And then there was that morning.

We woke up unusually early to photograph the breakfast before any other guests arrived. We wanted to capture it untouched — the buffet before the first croissant was taken from the wooden tray. Everything perfectly arranged. Quiet. Waiting.

That day we were exhausted. It was raining outside. The mountains were hidden behind thick clouds. After shooting, we went back to our suite and lay down on the small bed by the window — almost like a bench, a little daybed. We curled up “just for a minute.”

We fell asleep.

When we woke up half an hour later, the rain had stopped. The mountain peaks had emerged from the clouds. The sun appeared, soft but clear. Light filled the room. It was the best nap we have ever had.

On the fourth day of February ’26, we came to Vigilerhof.

And between wood, water, fire, horses and that quiet half-hour of sleep, we found a kind of winter peace that stays with you long after you leave.