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Your stay begins here.
A home, a family. A story that continues.
Hortus began as a family home.
A place that was once surrounded by cultivated meadows and home to several generations living under the same roof.
A home that grew over time, alongside those who lived there.
Then, as often happens, it was left empty. The rooms remained silent for years.
We chose to reopen it, with respect.
To live in it again, and to share it.
Without changing its soul. Just carrying it on.
Hortus has its own rhythm.
The garden, the house, and the lake in the background.
Once you pass through the gate, Hortus slowly unfolds before you.
First, the garden, with its different levels, its scents, the olive trees, and the view of the lake.
Then the house, spread over three floors, with shared spaces on the ground floor—the living room, the kitchen, and the place where people gather spontaneously.
There isn’t just one place to be.
There are many, each with its own light and its own moment of the day.
The Garden
Reception
It’s the first place you come to when you walk in. There’s always someone there, but it’s a relaxed atmosphere. You check in, ask for recommendations, and chat a bit if you feel like it. The elevator is also accessible from here, which is convenient after a long trip or when you’re carrying luggage.
The Swimming Pool
It’s located in the liveliest part of the garden, with the sun deck, lounge chairs, and a small bar. In the summer, it becomes the center of the day.
You end up there after breakfast, and sometimes you never want to leave.
Names We Didn't Want to Forget
Each one has its own story. We chose to honor that story by carefully restoring what time had worn away. These rooms have already seen so much—seasons, families, leisurely mornings. Now they’re ready to welcome new ones.
- Breakfast is always included
- Private terrace
- Free parking
The road leading to Hortus Bellagio is narrow, like the old roads along the lake, but it is passable for all cars.
The food here tastes like the place itself.
The Hortus garden is home to aromatic herbs, small fruits, citrus fruits, and much more.
What’s grown there ends up on the table—in the breakfast served every morning, as well as in the lunches and dinners prepared for guests. It’s simple, seasonal cuisine that reflects its origins.
Inside and outside Hortus,
time fills itself.
There are things that happen here that you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere else.
A breakfast that stretches into the garden until mid-morning.
An outdoor movie in the evening, with the lake in the background.
Gathering herbs in the woods early in the morning, when it’s still cool.
Little things, done at a leisurely pace. The ones you often remember more than the others.
The Fishermen of Agoni
Experience the Lake Like a Local
Truffle Hunting with Our Four-Legged Friends
Discover Lake Como Olive Oil with Jacopo
Open-Air Cinema
Explore the Garden
Pizza Night
Relaxation and Yoga in the Garden
Tours and Excursions
Sunset in Loppia
Our advice is simple: grab a drink, maybe a little aperitif, and stay here until evening.
St. John
One of our favorite villages, with its quiet little streets and small beaches.
Strada Regia
It is an ancient mule trail that has connected the lakeside villages for centuries.
Fishing at Dawn
To soak in the silence, in front of the small marina.
Piona
Another part of the lake, another kind of silence. The trip we'd like to take, too.
There is a place where time behaves differently
We’ve always lived in Bellagio.
For us, it’s not just a destination, but a place we’ve come to know step by step.
Here we’ve gathered something a little different: our favorite spots, the ones we return to without a second thought.
There are corners that change with the light, streets that are more about the journey than the destination, and moments of the day when everything slows down. That’s how we like to share it: calmly, and without rushing.
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There are hidden stories everywhere
It wasn't a project. It was a family conversation, in front of a house that was waiting. And the answer just came to us.
Hortus bears the names of those who came before. Ernesta, who was born on Valentine’s Day and had a very long braid that she tied up in a bun. Cherubina, who came from Vermiglio, at the foot of the Dolomites, and from whom part of this family descends. Albina, who grew up in Visgnola, in the farmhouse above the church, working for the Grandi family. Felicita, with her cows and her mountain meadows. Basilio, who left for Libya, ended up in Germany, and walked all the way back.
People who are no longer with us, but who left something behind—a name, a story, something that’s passed down without us even realizing it.
We thought it was right to remember them. So we put their names on the doors.
The rest is us. A family, two generations, a home to start over in.
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There are hidden stories everywhere