I left Miasino this morning, with the air still smelling of the forest and the streetlights whispering their last words to the empty roads. I take one of the many paths leading down to the lake, passing through Ameno first, where time seems to lean back and say, “I’m in no hurry.” Stone houses, secret courtyards, windows lit just enough. No room for an overdose of light.

The lake as a master in energy saving

I arrive at Orta Lake, sit on a bench, and there it is—the lake, teaching us how to save energy: it stays still, reflecting the world without taking anything from it. Meanwhile, we turn on lights as if we’re afraid of the dark. The fridge is always open, the city is always lit, as if it’s never time to turn things off—not even for a second. They say, “more light, more control,” but then we look in the mirror and see only tired eyes.

One hour without unnecessary lights: can something change?

What if today we stopped turning on things we don’t need? One hour without screens, without unnecessary lights, without that electric noise that makes our thoughts slip away. Maybe we’d realize that energy saving isn’t just about lowering our bills—it’s also a way to rekindle something inside us.

Saving energy is also an art of life

Lake Orta reflects the sky without taking anything from it. And us? We’re a bit less elegant. Not just with electricity, but with everything else: with the breath we waste complaining, with the aimless steps between one idea and another without ever really walking, with words thrown around like lights left on in empty rooms. Saving energy means choosing where and to whom to give our attention because focus is like a phone battery—if you waste it on things that don’t matter, by the time something important comes along, you’re already drained.

Even the brain needs a break, but it fills up with ads, meaningless debates, and disposable dramas. Wasting less also means staying silent when there’s no need to speak, stopping the chase for dreams that aren’t ours, turning off distractions, and turning on ideas.

Sustainable tourism: less waste, more value

The lake stands there, patient, watching people rush by. I stay a little longer—maybe I’ll learn something.

If the lake could talk, it would probably laugh at us. Always in a hurry, always looking for shortcuts that end up wasting more time. The lake doesn’t. It lets itself be crossed without resistance, without trying to be more than what it is: water that breathes, a reflection that changes with the light.

And yet, we came up with the concept of sustainable tourism. It sounds like a trend, but it’s really just common sense with a new name. It’s the idea that traveling doesn’t have to mean leaving behind a trail of plastic and noise. It’s about arriving at a place and adapting to its rhythm, rather than forcing it to match ours.

This morning, for example, I left Miasino on foot. Not because I’m some sustainability guru, but because if you drive two kilometers through the woods, you miss the sound of leaves under your feet and the scent of damp earth. And maybe you wouldn’t even notice the old wooden sign pointing to a forgotten trail.

Sustainability, in the end, is this: traveling light, consuming less, enjoying more. Turning off the GPS and getting a little lost.

And if all this helps the planet, even better. But the truth is, it helps us first. Because slowing down, every now and then, is the best energy saving we can grant ourselves (and afford).

The way back to Miasino is all uphill, but that’s part of the beauty: the lake stays behind like a quiet echo while the path slowly leads me upward, through greenery that changes color with the passing hours. The sunset light filters through the branches, resting on the stone walls of the houses, on the wrought-iron signs, on the windows that look like glasses for the nearsighted and astigmatic.

The stay that saves energy

I arrive at Seme di Faggio Guest House, which breathes along with the mountain. Ancient stone and wood—materials that don’t need to shout, but simply remain, solid and timeless. Inside, the air is cool without air conditioning, because when things are built well, they work on their own. And you feel good right away. It’s a place that welcomes you without doing too much, without overwhelming your senses with unnecessary stimuli. A bit like sustainable tourism: less waste, more value. You sit down, relax—maybe with a glass of wine—and realize that nothing else is needed.

And if you feel like exploring, just step outside. There are trails leading up to Mottarone, breathtaking views catching you off guard. But even if you do none of that, it’s okay. Because the beauty of a place like this is that you don’t always have to do something. You can simply let it flow.

So, if you feel the need to turn off the unnecessary and turn on what really matters, you know where to find us. Book your stay at Seme di Faggio and experience an energy that doesn’t get consumed—it regenerates.