The houses are beautiful.
But it’s the people
who make the difference.
I’m Oriana, your host. In other words, I’m the one who looks after you.
From the day you book to the day you leave, I’m the one you call.
It isn’t a job I ever planned. It just happened, one house and one guest at a time, until I realised the thing I’m best at in the world is making people feel good. Knowing what they need before they ask. Being there without hovering. When you arrive I don’t make a speech: I just say trasi, assettati, come in and sit down.
I’m the one who writes to you, welcomes you and tells you where to go: the right beach for the kids, the restaurant where Sicilians actually eat, the bakery that opens early. And if something isn’t right, you call me: ci pensu iu, I’ll see to it. I sort it out fast, because I know these houses inside out.
Behind me there’s a small team of people I trust, who keep the houses immaculate. And in front of me, there’s you.
Oh, and when you arrive, you’ll probably find something waiting in the kitchen. Our own olive oil, a few sweets, that sort of thing. It isn’t marketing. It’s just how we do things here: accussì.
You say it at the door, and it means far more than “come in”.
In Sicilian, trasi is what we say as we open the front door. Literally, it means “come in”. But no Sicilian ever means just that. It means: come in, sit down, have something to eat, make yourself at home. Because from this moment on, it is.
Every language has its own way of saying more than just “come in”. In English it’s come on in. The Spanish say ¡adelante!, the French faites comme chez vous, the Germans immer herein. In Arabic it’s tafaddal, in Turkish buyurun, in Japanese dōzo, in Greek pérase, in Maltese merħba. If your language has a word like that, you already know what Trasi means.
It comes from the Latin transire: to cross, to pass through. And it’s the right word, because walking into one of these houses isn’t just going from outside to in. It’s crossing a threshold. You cross it one way as a guest, with your suitcases and the polite reserve of someone in a stranger’s home. You cross back the other way changed: rested, tanned, with a recipe in your pocket and a reason to return.
That’s what we’re here for.
We’ll meet you
at the door.
Trasi.
The door’s
already open.
Tell me when you’d like to come, how many of you there are and what kind of holiday you have in mind. I’ll reply myself, the same day and usually sooner.