By Amy Pigeon
Sicily has long been a cinematic dreamscape. Its rugged vistas and rich history make it a favourite among directors and film buffs alike. Whether it’s the brooding hills of Corleone immortalized by The Godfather or the beautiful sensorial overloads of Taormina featured in The White Lotus, the island has an undeniable allure that I personally have become infatuated with. The intoxicating mix of history, drama, and raw beauty that pervades every corner of Sicily pulls you into its narrative of Italian wonderment. My love affair with Sicilia led me to Mangia’s Brucoli, a place where nature and history embrace the traveler, and where Sicily’s magic becomes something you can touch—be it via the crashing waves of the sea, the budding fruit of an olive off a tree, or a hand on your shoulder from the undeniable warmth of the staff.
The first breath of cool air as I stepped into the main lobby was a relief after the heat outside, and my eyes were immediately drawn to a large glass dispenser filled with ice-cold water infused with grapefruit, lime, and mint. My blood was practically running orange from too much Aperol at that point, so this refreshing blend of citrus and herbs was exactly what I needed. It was a small, thoughtful detail that hinted at the resort’s dedication to the comfort of its guests and instantly foreshadowed the pure bliss I was about to enjoy for the next 3 days.
Upon arriving for my far-too-short stay, I was greeted by Luca, a man whose warmth immediately set the tone for my visit. There was something so genuine in his manner that I could tell he truly cared about my wellness and overall enjoyment—a rare find even within the 5-star world of hospitality. With Luca’s perfectly spoken English and beautifully confusing accent, sounding somewhat Scottish but with the rhythmic flow of Italian, he enthusiastically walked me through the newly-renovated resort’s offerings, ensuring I knew I’d be well taken care of during my stay. As it turns out, Luca had spent many years in Australia, which had somehow resulted in this wonderfully unique accent.
As Lorenzo led me to my room with the excessive weight of my overpacked luggage, he hoisted it with a smile, tirelessly hauling them across the stony and uneven rustic grounds with such kindness and enthusiasm. His sweat-drenched uniform was a testament to his effort, yet he remained in high spirits, chatting cheerfully about the resort and local sights as he navigated the uneven paths. There was something endearing about his eagerness and sincerity—it was the kind of genuine hospitality that made you feel more like a visiting friend than just another guest.
As we walked to my room, I felt the magnetism of Mangia’s stunning labyrinth of terraced paths and gardens—the photos of the resort didn’t dare do the magic of the property justice, and it was a thrilling surprise for this content-hungry creator. I was eager to explore, but first, I had to rush into town. There was no ATM on the premises, and I had promised myself the experience of taking the water taxi, which meant I needed cash. The hotel promptly called a taxi for me, and within minutes, Rosario arrived.
Rosario, a true gentleman with a warm smile, exuded the quiet trust that I’ve come to associate with Italians. When I sheepishly explained that I didn’t have cash yet, he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “No problem,” he said, “I’ll wait for you after you explore Brucoli for an hour or two, and you can pay me then.” It struck me—here was a stranger, offering to wait on my word, when I could have easily not called him back, avoiding the 25 euro fare. It was such a trusting, human moment, one that perfectly captured what Italians are about: warmth, faith in others, and an understanding that sometimes, things just work out when you let them.
The town of Brucoli itself wasn’t a postcard-perfect vision of Sicily; it was quiet, understated, humble, and perhaps…even rough. But somehow, it was exactly the kind of place that made my heart swell with affection. These small, unassuming spots—the ones that tourists tend to pass over—have always been my favorites. They invite you to slow down, to really see and feel the rhythm of daily life. As I walked along the rocky edge of the sea with a half dozen raggedy yet somehow adorable stray cats, people were fishing with soft echoes of laughter. Others basked in the last warm glow of the setting sun, swimming and laughing, cherishing every sliver of sunlight they could capture before the day ended, as the Italians do. An old couple sat in their chairs, watching the sun dip below the horizon, while a woman gently guided her elderly mother home, her arm wrapped protectively around her. This was what Italy was about—simple moments of connection, of family, of living life at a pace that allows you to savour every second.
This is the purpose Italy has shown me—to experience life in its rawest, most beautiful form, and to share those experiences with others. In that small town, with the gentle waves of the sea and the warmth of strangers surrounding me, I finally felt at peace. This is what life is about. This is what Italia has gifted to me. And this is what I hope you, too, can experience one day.
As I meandered aimlessly through Brucoli, I passed two beautiful nuns who smiled at me and wished me “buona sera.” Their kindness, paired with the tranquility of the moment, brought tears to my eyes. I had just left Rome, a city I adore for its vibrancy and history, but there’s something about these small, remote villages that feel more special to me. These places, nowhere near the well-worn paths of tourism, hold the essence of Italy in their quiet charm and slow, intentional living.
After what had been an overwhelmingly stressful week of travel and the daunting task of launching my business, this peaceful moment reminded me of why I am here. This is the purpose Italy has shown me—to experience life in its rawest, most beautiful form, and to share those experiences with others. In that small town, with the gentle waves of the sea and the warmth of strangers surrounding me, I finally felt at peace. This is what life is about. This is what Italia has gifted to me. And this is what I hope you, too, can experience one day.
I realized the sun was quickly setting, and I hurriedly called Rosario with a sense of urgency to return to Mangia’s before the last light of day vanished—I was dying to explore the grounds before dark.
The moment I arrived back, I set off down the winding paths of the resort. The grounds were like venturing through a storybook, each turn offering something new and unexpected. Ancient olive trees twisted skyward, their gnarled trunks full of stories, while ivy climbed the walls of the guest suites, draping every inch of the exteriors in Sicily’s wild beauty. The stone pathways, weathered and uneven, led me through sun-dappled gardens where small courtyards opened up like secret havens.
The sea was always within sight, its calm, rhythmic waves a constant companion to the serenity of the resort. I followed the path down to a quiet cove where the water met the rocky shore, a secluded spot carved out by nature itself. The sea sparkled, reflecting the last rays of the sun, and I could hear the gentle lap of the waves echoing in the stillness. A hidden pool appeared just beyond, an intimate space that felt as if it had been untouched by time. As the sky darkened I felt a deep sense of connection to this place—a sanctuary where nature and luxury blended seamlessly into a world of beauty. I set foot back to my room to freshen up from my day of travel before dinner.
Staying in the deluxe room at Mangia’s felt like stepping into my own personal retreat. Upon entering the incredibly spacious room, I was immediately greeted by a thoughtful touch—a personalized welcome with my name displayed on the TV. On the table, there was a card addressed to me, personally signed by the resort manager, extending their warmest welcome. It was such a small but significant detail that was perfectly consistent with the earlier warm touchpoints of my journey as a guest.
As I explored the room, I encountered an unexpected but utterly adorable guest—a tiny, itty-bitty gecko scurrying across the wall of my bathroom. Not at all alarmed, I was aware that this was an expected byproduct of an island resort with such large windows enrobed in ivy. Locals later told me that these little creatures are considered good luck and even help keep the mosquitos in check. The room itself was breathtakingly large, with a window that opened up through a lush, ivy-veiled exterior to reveal a stunning view of the sea. It felt like nature was being invited into the space, blending the comfort of luxury with the beauty of Sicily’s landscape.
In the bathroom, the surprises continued. The shower had its own window that opened to an unparalleled view of Mount Etna, towering in the distance. Showering with that view was nothing short of magical, a reminder of how deeply connected this resort was to the natural surroundings. The bathroom, like the room, was expansive, with sleek finishes and full-sized Argan Oil toiletries that added an indulgent touch to the experience.
On my first night at Mangia’s, I found myself hopelessly lost trying to track down the resort’s pizzeria. What should have been a short walk turned into a winding adventure that left me, at one point, almost crashing a wedding. I heard the thumping beat of energetic music echoing through the resort and thought, “Well, surely that must be the pizza place on a Saturday night!” Eager to dig into my first slice of Sicilian heaven, I followed the sound like a moth to a flame. The lights grew brighter, and as I rounded the corner, I was greeted by a sea of blue and white decorations. For a second, I admired the setup, thinking they really go all out for their pizza parties here. Then I spotted it—the towering white and blue cake. That’s when it hit me: I wasn’t at a pizzeria—I had stumbled upon a wedding.
As a solo traveler, I honestly contemplated sliding in. Imagine the content! The daring tale of the night I crashed a Sicilian wedding. Should I be a maple syrup farmer from Vermont? A venture capitalist from New York? The possibilities were endless. But just as I was about to create an entire backstory for myself, my morality got the best of me… and my deep desire for pizza. So, with a little laugh at my own misadventures after this entire narrative ran through my mind within a matter of 5 seconds of decision making, I backtracked through the labyrinth of the resort.
After my unplanned detour, I found Al Grano Pizzeria, and the moment I laid eyes on that piping hot diavola pizza, all thoughts of the wedding crash faded. It’s Too Darn Hot by Ella Fitzgerald played in the background, which felt like the universe’s way of foreshadowing what was about to happen. With zero grace and zero patience, I inhaled that pizza, despite the fact that it was indeed, too darn hot. As expected, like the child that I am when it comes to delicious food, I burned my mouth instantly because I could not dare wait to consume the gastronomic delight feasting before my eyes. My red lipstick, which in hindsight was a poor fashion choice for this meal, quickly smeared across my face as I devoured each slice. You really can’t take me anywhere. It was so good, I didn’t manage to get a photo of it, so you have my equally delicious Margherita pizza photos from the following night to enjoy. But in that moment, with the perfect blend of spicy salami and mozzarella, it didn’t matter. It was the messiest, most satisfying meal, a true testament to how good food should be enjoyed—with reckless abandon.
The next day, I set out to explore the resort in search of the best content spots—places where I could capture the beauty of Mangia’s while also finding some privacy. After wandering through the scenic paths, I stumbled upon what felt like a hidden treasure: the Secret Bay. Tucked away from the more frequented areas of the resort, it was a serene haven of peace, a surprising find given the resort does indeed publicly advertise this ‘hidden’ spot. At the other end of the grounds, a rustic swing hung from a tree, perfectly placed to overlook the cerulean sea, inviting me to pause and take in the moment. Nearby, a rocky beach unfolded, its natural sea pools glistening in the sun adorned with a handful of beach beds. The area was practically deserted, offering a level of tranquility and privacy that felt like a secret only I had discovered—an ideal location to fly my drone without being a nuisance to other guests.
As I wrapped up my beach shoot, I decided to take one last stroll before heading back to the main part of the resort. That’s when I stumbled across the resort’s olive grove—a sprawling, enchanting scene where dozens upon dozens of olive trees reached for the clouds. It was another content haven, the silver-green leaves creating the perfect contrast against the warm Sicilian light and clear blue skies. I knew instantly I had found yet another spot to capture moments, not just on camera, but in memory.
On my last night at Mangia’s, I somehow managed to get lost for what must have been the fifth time, trying to find the olive grove once again. Despite having been there several times already, the labyrinth of the resort’s grounds made every turn feel new. But I was in no rush—I was searching for that magical spot where I could sit for hours enjoying la dolce far niente. On my winding search, I stumbled across the kids’ pool and sports courts, tucked away in shaded and sunny patches, hidden spots within the grounds. It struck me that this resort truly had it all. Even the Tecnogym, perched with an unrivaled view of the Ionian Sea, was a fitness fanatic’s paradise. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that I hadn’t made time to enjoy it.
Three days at this paradise were simply not enough to soak in all that Mangia’s had to offer. There was always something new to discover, some hidden beauty waiting just around the corner – including the 8 bars and restaurants the property offers that I of course did not have time to fully explore.
Mangia’s Brucoli is more than just a beautiful place to stay. It is a portal to Sicily itself—a blend of ancient, natural beauty, and warm, generous people. It’s a space where the past and present intertwine, where every detail reflects the heart of the island. As I prepared to leave, watching the sunset over the sea with Mount Etna looming in the distance, I felt a deep sense of connection to myself and nature. This wasn’t just a luxurious escape; it was an immersion into the spirit of Sicily, one that I knew I would carry with me long after I’d left. I cannot wait to return to this resort and explore the other properties within the Mangia’s family, and I highly encourage you all to treat yourself to a visit, too.
– VV
Photography courtesy of Mangia’s Brucoli and Amy Pigeon
