The fog over Lake Como didn’t clear quickly that morning. It lingered around the hills, softened the edges of the villas, and made the water look almost like molten silver. The team arrived one by one, dragging bags and fumbling with coffee cups, and for a few minutes, not really knowing what to expect.
That suspended moment was fine. In fact, it was necessary. It gave everyone a chance to notice the little things—the way the terrace floor felt cool and peaceful, how the sunlight touched the tops of the trees, the faint hum of life in the gardens below.
Some people wandered toward the edge of the lake. A few leaned on railings, squinting at the distant peaks or taking photos with their mobiles. The rest drifted into the gardens, nodding at colleagues they hadn’t seen in months. Remote work had a way of putting people in boxes, and suddenly those boxes didn’t exist. Conversations started, faltered, started again. The retreat hadn’t begun officially, but already, connections were forming quietly, on instinct.
Creating a space for human connections to flourish
The estate had been chosen carefully by our team of experts, picked out of a selection of some of the finest venues in northern Italy. Rooms flowed into terraces, terraces spilled into gardens, gardens ended at the water’s edge: it’s no wonder this corner of Italy has been chosen by so many directors over the years to embody romance, whimsy, and nostalgia. Each transition offered a view, a pause, a chance to breathe. People walked slowly between spaces, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs, noticing patterns of movement in others, catching snippets of conversation, or letting their thoughts wander. The design wasn’t flashy—it was subtle—but it shaped behaviour in ways that became obvious by mid-morning.
Meetings began, but not in the way anyone expected. No rows of chairs, no monotone slides. Instead, the group sat in a bright room overlooking the lake, the focus required for outstanding business tempered by the anticipation of what the day had in store for the whole team. Ideas bounced between people in fits and starts. Some notes were copied down; others were just remembered. Discussions meandered, paused, then looped back around. It was intense and rich. Real conversations always are.
Team building celebrating la Dolce Vita
The first team building activity we had planned for the Generali team on that particular day was a cocktail challenge. Teams didn’t know each other well, and yet within ten minutes they were laughing over spilled syrups and tasting experiments that were more hit-or-miss than anyone expected. Judges evaluated taste, presentation, and creativity, but the real lesson wasn’t the scoring. It was how people listened, delegated, and adapted on the fly. Mistakes were celebrated quietly, improvisation rewarded. A few teams ended up with surprisingly good drinks, while others made concoctions that no one would ever drink—but everyone was learning.
The following morning brought curling, a sport no one had anticipated. Ice, brooms, sliding stones—it was chaotic at first, mostly because we had managed to take each and every member of the team straight out of their comfort zone. Instructions were forgotten, mistakes repeated, stones flew off target. And yet slowly, the teams began to find a rhythm. They learned to anticipate each other’s moves, to communicate without words, to adjust quickly. Frustration turned into focus. By the end, everyone was sweating, smiling, and quietly proud.
A glamorous evening
Evenings at the estate were unhurried. Glass walls framed the lake, sun sinking behind hills. Conversations sparkled over dinner. Sometimes the topic returned to work, sometimes to personal stories, sometimes to nothing in particular. It didn’t matter. The setting encouraged dialogue that felt natural, unplanned, human. Laughter bounced off the walls. Plates were cleared slowly. People lingered in chairs, leaning back, watching the water, catching the last light. And yes, counting on the finest Italian cooking always helps.
Small moments, meaningful impressions
It wasn’t just the structured activities that made the retreat successful. It was the quiet moments—the conversation on the balcony before breakfast, the shared glance during a misjudged curling throw, the spontaneous plan to walk along the water at dusk. Professional bonds grew not because they were forced, but because the environment, the timing, and the pacing created opportunities for trust and attention to develop organically.
