This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Linda Meyer, the co-owner of La Chiusa. It has been edited for length and clarity.
Thirteen years ago, I had a beautiful life in Northern Virginia. I was a 25-year veteran kindergarten teacher, married to a successful businessman and former Air Force pilot, and had raised two kids.
We didn’t have financial issues: We had a lovely home and traveled often. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling, the pull, that something was still missing.
I knew there had to be more to life than getting up on a Saturday morning to run errands. I’d become overweight and unhealthy.
It was February, nowhere near the end of a school year, when I told my husband I needed a change. He said, “What do you want to do?” I said, “I think I need to move to Italy.” The ever-supportive partner, he said, “OK. We’ll make it happen.”
The life-changing decision
Our first step was finding an apartment I could rent in Tuscany. I’d traveled there before and fell in love with the culture. We made the move gradually. I went first, and then my husband followed two months later.
The first apartment was in a 12th-century building, so it was a bizarre little space, with the bathroom and two dens downstairs and the kitchen upstairs. But, like my life, I was fine with having it flipped upside down and a little unexpected.
My son and daughter — now both in their 30s — were thrilled for me. My daughter Whitney even tagged along to help my husband George move me in. The move took place only two weeks after I’d first shared my big idea.
That’s when the story changes a bit, from the dream I pictured to the day-to-day realities.
The unexpected challenges of getting settled
The first weeks weren’t what I had pictured — there was no TV, no WiFi, I didn’t speak the language, it was cold out, and I realized quickly I’d never lived alone.
I’d moved straight from my daddy’s house to George’s house, married and pregnant at 21. I had never really done anything for myself.
I was afraid to drive in Italy, not because of driving itself, but because of the color-coded parking system in Tuscany. Yellow means you can park, white means it’s free, blue means you have to pay — and you have to learn to read Italian real quick to figure all this out.
So, I was housebound for a bit until I worked up the courage to do it. I cried a lot, questioning all my life decisions over the two months until my husband could join me here after he finished preparing his business.
I wasn’t sure I could do it, but my son pushed me to try over the phone. “You’ve been around the world,” he said, “and you’re afraid to go out?”
So I did.
I drove to the Gucci store in Florence, bought a backpack, got back in my car and drove home, and survived. I still carry that backpack today. It’s a small reminder that I can do whatever I want.
I needed to help other women do the same
I started walking around town. I started eating differently. I could tell I was changing.
I started a Facebook group and invited other women in the same mid-life drudgery to come visit and see the village I’d come to love.
People responded and shared that they’d love to come and were tired of their routine, too.
A few months later, 10 people came for a week, and another 10 people came the next week to visit. I got paid to be their tour guide and show them the things I love. I told them my story.
When I first started, we weren’t residents yet, so we could only stay in Italy for a month or two at a time in any 180-day period, so we’d go back to the US to visit family.
The next year, that number jumped to 100 visitors. At first, I’d seen entertaining as a great hobby, but at that point I knew a business was born.
My husband and I moved to a bigger house in the village, and I started hosting people 16 weeks a year, with my daughter and husband’s help. I would take the tourists out to see the town, they would take cooking lessons, and reflect on their lives over drinks and meals.
Growing the business, with some bumps and wins along the way
In 2018, I bought a 1,700-year-old villa and 50-acre olive oil farm called La Chiusa. Today, it operates as a guest property with 17 rooms, with nightly rates starting from 180 to 300 euros, or $200 to $340.
I’ve lost 100 pounds, leaned into gardening, and even show guests how to change their lives in small, practical ways when they go back.
I now employ 25 permanent team members, in addition to six local “nonnas” (grandmothers) who specialize in cooking.
Rules for running a business are different in Italy. For example, there are full time and seasonal contracts, and if you give them a full time contract, it’s difficult to fire someone.
So, even when an employee never showed up for work again, I had to keep paying them. There are also really specific rules about what tasks they can perform — you can’t randomly ask a gardener or waiter to wash a dish unless it’s specified in that contract.
I learned lessons the hard way, but I’ve had lots of fun along the way.
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