Sun, Pinsa, and a Mysterious Inflatable Llama

Sun, Pinsa, and a Mysterious Inflatable Llama

One of those days at La Svolta that somehow becomes unforgettable

There are days that begin with no particular plan and end with a splash, a sunset, and three new WhatsApp groups. This was one of those days. The sun was already shining by the time the first towel hit the lounger. The pool shimmered like glass, the birds were on background vocals, and someone had placed a bottle of sparkling water (and maybe a chilled white) next to the sun cream. It was going to be a good one.

The Pool Scene: Quiet Bliss + Sudden Llama

Guests drifted in and out of the water, moved only by the need to float, flip a page, or fetch another fig from the kitchen. And then—without warning—a giant inflatable llama appeared.
No one brought it. No one questioned it. It just… was. Suddenly, quiet dips turned into poolside photo shoots, casual laughter turned into floatie races, and the llama—obviously—was given a name (still a mystery what it was).

Lunch: Chris and the Art of the Pinsa

While the llama held court, Chris fired up the outdoor oven, and the scent of rosemary and charred crust filled the air. Within minutes, trays of Roman-style pinsa started arriving—crispy, airy, topped with things like stracciatella, grilled zucchini, and prosciutto. One guest said it was “better than Rome.”  Chris blushed. Michaela raised an eyebrow. The llama floated by approvingly.

Golden Hour: Aperitivo That Went a Bit Further

As the sun dipped low and the hills turned honey-colored, glasses were filled with vermouth, Spritz, and little glasses of something herbal someone had brought from a village nearby. There were olives, cheese boards, local stories, and the kind of toasts you make when you realize you’ve stopped being strangers. People stayed. They moved closer. Shared playlists. Shared plans. Shared contact info, and maybe one or two secrets. And Just Like That... What started as another sunny day ended as one of those small, perfect chapters. The kind you remember not for what happened—but for how it felt.

Unrushed. Unsurprised. Unrepeatable.
Except maybe, if you’re lucky, next week.

And yes—the llama is still here.
Of course it is.