Our hotel on the Adriatic: three stays in, full board by choice, and the same umbrella waiting on the beach
Since 1908 • Fellini's Grand • Full Board Worth Booking
Explore → Get Early AccessOn Rimini's seafront, the beach across the garden
Sea view with a balcony, over the pines
Breakfast on the patio, lunch at the beach, dinner under chandeliers
The Liberty-style landmark of the Riviera
Some hotels you review; this one we return to. We found the Grand the first time by looking for a serious pool, and the first visit ran eight nights: the first few days at the pool, which was lovely, until I found my umbrella and the beach, and that was that. The pattern has held ever since: the same wing, long walks up the coast in the morning, the umbrella waiting when I get back. The Grand has stood on this seafront since 1908, the white wedding-cake landmark Fellini grew up gazing at and later made famous, and it wears its age the right way: polished, unhurried, and completely certain of what it is. It is also, quietly, where Rimini's famous stay: we have shared the dining room with film stars, singers, and entire football clubs, all in town for one event or another. Last visit they upgraded us without our asking. We would have come back anyway.
Ask for the main building and you sleep among the antiques: proper old-world rooms, herringbone floors, chandeliers, balcony doors that open onto pine tops and sea. The staff is the other half of it, top notch and simply always there, the kind of service that makes a stay first class without ever hovering. The first coffee of the morning happens standing at the balcony railing, looking down the umbrella rows before anyone is under them. And here is the honest version of the beach was wonderful: I do not particularly like sand, and the Grand's beach won me over anyway, because the ritual barely touches it. Your umbrella, your lettered row, the loungers, the table set, towels folded, and nothing required of you until lunch. Sand optional, sea included.
We book full board here, which we do almost nowhere else, and every meal earns its place. Breakfast is a buffet served inside or out on the patio, with as much cappuccino as you care to order and eggs any way you want them: omelets, bacon, fresh fruit piled as high as your conscience allows. Lunch is a buffet down at the beach, and it is incredible; you walk up from your umbrella and walk back to it. Dinner moves to the formal dining room, chandeliers overhead, a proper menu with real choices at every course. And in July and August the hotel throws a buffet on the patio three nights a week with live entertainment: a crudo bar, fish, meats, a cheese bar, a dessert bar, and a band playing while the seafront cools off. It is the best argument for a summer booking we know.
Ask for a room in the main building; that is where the antiques and the old-world rooms are, and a booking site will not tell you to ask. Take the sea view with a balcony; the pines-and-Adriatic view is the hotel, and the supplement is the best money of the trip. Take the full board; it reads as an extravagance and eats like a bargain, and it removes every dinner decision from a beach day. And go in August at least once, on purpose: the whole of Italy takes its holiday, half of it seemingly at this hotel, and the buffet nights, the music, and the full Italian summer in full voice are the point, not the price. June and September trade the show for softer rates and an emptier beach; we keep choosing the show. And whenever you go, walk out to the promenade after dinner and turn around: the facade at blue hour is the last photograph of every stay.
The white Liberty landmark, its garden of pines and roses, the fountain, and the pool.





Main-building rooms with herringbone floors, chandeliers, and balconies over the pines.










Twenty three published frames of this hotel and not one of them was the bathroom, which on a stay page is a gap rather than a modesty. Room 107's is the most distinctive interior in the batch: a barrel vault, brown mosaic with a gilt Greek key border, and a chandelier over the tub.




Columns, chandeliers, marble, and the mosaic that names the place underfoot.







The private beach: the dressed umbrella, the lettered rows, and the sea beyond.






Breakfast on the patio, lunch at the beach, and dinner under the chandeliers.











Lunch is served down at the beach rather than in the dining room, and it is a different proposition from dinner under the chandeliers. These frames were taken in the first minutes of service, before the beach came up to eat, so the counters are still whole. That is a head start and not a verdict on how busy the place gets.










Sunset over the umbrellas, the fountain lit, and the seafront cooling off.
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