Our story, the heart of hospitality

When did I decide to become a hotelier?

I don’t remember exactly.
Certainly not at 18, even though the story of the Madison – as I am now fully aware – had already begun long before…

When I finished high school, I wanted to become a psychologist. I studied, graduated, graduated again, and I always believed that what I wanted to do in my life was help others feel better.
Then I realized I could fulfill that desire in a different way. A way that allowed me to carry forward a story and a project that had begun many, many years ago.

A story that carries with it the history of Italy and entire generations, an endless passion with the flavor of my land and my family. And this is that story.

All four of my grandparents were born in the 1920s and shared a common story. They grew up in the Romagna hinterland, in the countryside, where they learned to hold a hoe before a pen. Sangiovese grapes were already growing under the hot summer sun back then, but the children were many – and so was hunger.

And yet, at midday, everyone always sat down “a tèvla”. Because for us Romagnoli, meals are a serious matter, even if it’s just bread and onions. Hanging in the kitchen was “una rénga”, and one by one, everyone could rub their piadina against the dried fish, just to keep at least a hint of its aroma.

They lived through hunger and war, and then found the optimism and courage to start again. With a new family, a new project, and a new home. Even the scent was new: it was the scent of the sea.

Those were the post-war years, when faith in the future swept the country into an unstoppable desire for rebirth. I imagine the promises my grandfather made to my grandmother: that sacrifices would bear fruit, that they would be able to raise three children, that it was the right time to build.

And in the 1960s, they built a hotel.

They lived close to the sea, but their skin always remained fair. There was no time to sunbathe. My grandmother used to say that when she moved to Rimini, she bought a swimsuit that ten years later still had the needle stuck in it. They admired the sea from the hotel.

And yet, any regret vanished when they spoke of the friendships born in those years, of the hundreds of stories they listened to, of the different accents. True wealth lies in diversity, they taught me. Those walls had become chests of timeless treasures, which still today represent my greatest inheritance.

The hotel where my mother grew up was called Valverde; my father’s was Arlecchino. Different names, but similar growth. At ten years old, they took off their school smocks to put on waiter aprons, made coffee with the large moka pot, served dessert that arrived only on Thursdays and Sundays, after grandma’s lasagna.

In the evenings, they watched their grandparents teach the waltz to tall, blonde tourists who spoke a language full of consonants, like in a Fellini film.

Perhaps it was this shared past that made my parents fall in love. In the 1970s, they met, got married, and decided to build their own family. For them, work and family were never separate. And so the hotel where I grew up was born: the Guarany.

Sergio and Franca: for me, mom and dad; for many of you, friends with whom you shared unforgettable summers. My sister Valentina and I were there, breathing in that joy that became part of our identity.

I remember the bocce tournaments, my dad cleaning mussels with the guests, aperitifs that turned into dinners and then midnight spaghetti feasts. My mom everywhere, always. And that moment on the big bed after lunch, when I used to tell her: “you smell like mom”. She would laugh and say it was the smell of the kitchen. For me, it will forever remain the sweetest scent of my childhood.

And then there’s her, my sister Valentina. My certainty. It is with her – and only with her – that I could imagine continuing the project started by my grandparents. Her partner joined us too, Gianba, whom I consider like a brother. If I could have chosen him, I don’t think I could have imagined anyone better. He and my three nephews are the greatest gift I have ever received.

And so, naturally, the project of my life was born. Today, it is called Madison.

Within this project live my grandparents, my parents, my childhood. My land, an identity shaped by hospitality, flavors, and traditions. And the desire to leave my mark.

A mark I hope will move toward inclusive tourism, where every guest feels welcomed and valued in their uniqueness. An ethical and sustainable tourism that takes care of our beautiful sea and territory. I want to keep making lasagna using my grandmother’s recipe, but I also want you to taste the dishes I discovered on my travels. I want to introduce you to the timeless products that grow on our hills and tell you their stories, one by one. I want to show you my idea of beauty and comfort, and smile at you from morning to night. I want to tell you how beautiful Rimini is and reveal my favorite hidden spots, between hills and sea.

Taking care of you is not a job for us. It’s our story.

I can’t wait to keep writing mine – ours – together.
I’m waiting for you.

— Laura