Those who have been to Sils once always come back. At Chesa Randolina, guests enjoy rustic rooms and a family atmosphere.
By Clarissa Rohrbach
Nietzsche came to Sils as a tourist and left as a philosopher. You sit on the balcony of the Hotel Randolina, look out over the deep blue lake, above the rocky face of the Margnas, and understand how this place can inspire intellectual flights of fancy. Inside, there is the smell of Swiss stone pine covering the walls. The room has a warm, rustic feel. In front of the table is an old farm chair, on it a warm welcome letter from Tomas Courtin, the owner. Binoculars invite you to discover chamois and ibex on the rocky slopes. The only thing left to do is to pocket the free public transport pass and start hiking.
But on this day it is drizzling lightly. Many guests sit deep in the armchairs of the fireside lounge. It is a ritual here to read one of the many newspapers available after breakfast. Others chat among themselves or play cards. That's why there is no TV in the rooms: people are supposed to ponder and communicate. Many of the regulars have been coming for decades, they know each other. They tend to be people over 50 who feel at home here, people who like Sils because it is away from the hustle and bustle of St. Moritz, and who like to devoutly enjoy nature. Most of them know Courtin and ask him for small attentions. Because here you pay for a 3-star hotel, but you get the service of a 5-star establishment. "We take our guests' wishes very seriously," Courtin says. He grew up in the house after his father converted the old farm into a hotel, and has been running the 38-room establishment since 1992.
At 5 pm, the fireside lounge is full of life, it's aperitif time. The fire flickers, a pendulum clock ticks. The charming bartender Matteo mixes old-school cocktails, beautifully decorated with mint leaves and cherries. The guests make their way to the table to enjoy the four-course meal. The Alsatian chef's cuisine is well-known in the village. Today there is entrecôte of venison with potato gnocchi. "We are proud to use local products," says Courtin and tells how the winegrowers bring their wine over personally. Down the stairs, past the old engravings of Sils, you find it hard to leave. You turn around one last time, look out over the vast plain and say goodbye to Mr Courtin, the bartender Matteo and the waiter Vincenzo. Once in Sils, a piece of the heart stays here forever. That's what happened to Nietzsche.