We are a hotel of the rich and famous. Rich in what? In joy? And famous, probably, for our Concierge's jokes. We are a luxury hotel, but the luxury has left, and we've ended up with just a hotel.

Autumn arrived all of a sudden. The whole valley is dressed in yellow, red and brown. It's not cold and it's not warm. There's wind and there's sunshine too. No snow yet; up in the mountains maybe soon. Let's get moving before the first snow.

The Concierge once again made use of public transport. Departure at 10:00 a.m. after a generous breakfast (caffè americano). From reception, with his mobile phone and plenty of gigabytes of data, the hotel's phone line in tow, available at any moment. Waiting for the call from the rich and famous. Maybe they'll call, who knows?

Poor Concierge! If the rich have their Bentleys and Rolls-Royces, the Concierge has a Mercedes. A Mercedes with 40 seats, which comes with a chauffeur and with a ticket that costs only a fraction of the lease on a new Mercedes, and is included in every guest's stay. Today, yes, the Concierge feels he is in the world of the rich and famous!

Bus 202, sorry, the Mercedes, is perfectly on time and takes us through the apple orchards – the last apples of the season are being picked at this very moment – to Nals; on we go through the vineyards to Andrian before getting off in Terlan. The grapes are already in the cellar.

Terlan, destination Hafling (Avelengo). We board Mercedes no. 204 (or is it maybe an IVECO?). Hairpin bend after hairpin bend, slowly, slowly. The Adige Valley at our feet. The Adige river in its usual colours, and the whole valley yellow, red, orange.

The first peaks already in sight! In the blink of an eye we reach "Egger", our stop, where the trail to the Knottnkino begins. On the other side of the starting point is, indeed, "Egger", a farmhouse inn. The hike is in no hurry. We stop for an "aperitivo" of white wine and a breathtaking panoramic view.

After a short rest we set off towards the Knottnkino. We reach the fork, a few hundred metres from "a great open-air cinema between heaven and earth". Unfortunately today, under a sky painted blue, the crowds are noticeable: people eager for the new film, which is actually an old one, and always the same. Sometimes in black and white, like today, sometimes in colour.

What is a Knottnkino? Is it more Kino or more Knotten? Kino is German for cinema, and Knotten, in South Tyrolean dialect, means rock. But you don't see any stars: no Tom Cruise, no Penelope Cruz, no Tom Hanks. You see mountains, rocks, Knotten. And perhaps that is exactly what we can't see every day. It's not like Netflix, it's not pay-per-view, it seems to be free, made available to us poor, humble, "normal" people. If we sit down on the seats of the Knottnkino, maybe, yes, we get a moment of peace. Penelope Cruz doesn't jump at us, one Tom doesn't have to save the world and the other doesn't have to run, at least for a moment. Perhaps the Knottnkino is less Kino and more Knotten. But perhaps that is exactly what we are missing in our modern times.

And to see what the Knottnkino looks like, take a look at our older blog posts:
Tickets and Pop Corn?
Knottenkino, a cinema with a boundless screen

We leave the Knottnkino on our left and continue along the woods towards Hafling. We pass a gate that has both an entrance for cars and one for our trail, and which leads to a très chic hotel. Not such a modest establishment as that of the Concierge writing these lines. The quiet is disturbed only by a car with a big engine, then by another. The Concierge spots a lady of a certain age with a small dog. Guests of this hotel? TV stars?

Who is this lady with the little dog? The Concierge wonders. Images from the latest films of the last 30 years run through his mind. No. Could she be a countess? Dressed like a true noblewoman, she must have estates, vineyards and olive groves; her hand must have been kissed by distant noblemen. But who knows how a real countess dresses these days? Don't they dress just like us? Especially when they take the dog out? Who knows?

After a ten-minute walk through the woods, another gate appears! Where the car had to stop to receive its pass. The Concierge still hasn't recognised these VIP guests. Or was it perhaps one of the Concierge's colleagues, picking up a lady with her pet?

The Concierge must continue on his way. The trail leads further through the woods, across a couple of pastures, before reaching the little village of Hafling. Lots of people at the bus stop. In Hafling, lots of tourists, well dressed, lots of chic people. The Concierge and his wife in clothes that are not chic. How come? Compared to the presumed countess: underdressed. Compared to the many top-class hotels in this village, even the hotel where the Concierge works is underdressed. All the hotels sell "slowing down". Luxury hotels. The Concierge catches the bus at 4:00 p.m. sharp, to return to his everyday life, which goes on. In his hotel, not luxury and not top-class, the unanswered emails keep him fit. Work is waiting for him.

In the evening the lady of the house makes the Concierge a barley soup, full of memories of the high mountains. True luxury is not caviar, not champagne, not even James the butler serving the rich their caviar and champagne. In reality, for the Concierge, luxury has a simple definition.

It is beyond compare. The Concierge didn't find "slowing down" in Hafling. But he finds it here. In a hot soup. When the Concierge blows on his soup to cool it down, he is certainly content and happy. Tired, but content.

Perhaps, yes, we are a luxury hotel. Not because our guests are rich and famous stars, but because at the end of the day a hot soup and a made bed are waiting for us.

The Concierge happily finishes his soup and wouldn't swap it for anything. Neither for champagne nor for caviar. Nor would he swap his hotel for a luxury one. It already is a luxury hotel. No luxury, but a hotel.

Stay tuned!