Monday,
July 02, 2007
The
ANNOTICO Reports
Cinque
Terre (pronounced CHEEN-kway TEHR-reh) is
"five lands" (Five towns:Monterosso,
Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, Riomaggiore )perched
upon a stretch of lush, terraced hills on
Those
five towns are not connected by roads, but by railroad, each town punctuated by
the railroad tunnels in between. However, Hiking trails are one of Cinque Terre
With
no autos or scooters, there is silence, serenity, and scenic beauty, and
another "Must See" in
The
Silence of the Lands
In
Chicago Tribune; By Kevin
Pang; Tribune
staff reporter; July 1, 2007
RIOMAGGIORE,
In this Mediterranean seaside village, one of five towns that make up Cinque
Terre, the silence fills an alleyway so narrow you can touch both walls with
outstretched hands. No one is around, no birds or airplanes above, no white
noise, no Vespa scooters with their ubiquitous
rumble. It is a moment to stand, be still and absorb.
What looks to be another home at 84 Via Santa Antonio is, in fact, a church. It
is a modest place of worship, the size of a small living room. There is a
marble altar, checkerboard floors, two chandeliers, an organ, 16 wooden chairs
and four more in the cramped balcony. In the middle of this space stands a row
of candles, some lit and some not, with a coin box asking for donation s.
Something, I
This is a church you won
And yet, this method seems to be the best way to explore Cinque Terre:
stumbling upon things.
Cinque Terre (pronounced CHEEN-kway TEHR-reh) is
"five lands" perched upon a stretch of lush, terraced hills on
On the southbound train that brought me from Genoa for a four-day visit in
April, the shimmering Ligurian Sea was on the right
while the five townsthe "lands" of Cinque Terreappeared one after
another on the left as pastel jumbles dotting the rolling slopes of green.
Mo nterosso, Vernazza,
Corniglia, Manarola, Riomaggioreeach punctuated by the railroad tunnels in
between.
I spent the first two days in Riomaggiore,
then Vernazza the next two. But you can base yourself
anywhere and move between them as you wish by train, boat or hiking trailsonly
7 miles separate the five villages. You just can
Roads as we know them don
No matter what village you
Strolling down the passages of Ve rnazza
one morning, I recall an Italian phrase: "Il
dolce far niente." The sweetness of doing nothing.
I walk and watch as women hold conversations four
floors apart. Three elderly men sit on a benchtalking, laughing, people
watching. Linens dry in the Mediterranean breeze, a few cats stray down the Via
Roma. Every 15 minutes, the bells at the 700-year-old Church of Santa
Margherita di Antiochia break the quiet with their
toll.
The big news this morning is a wayward duck that had flown into the center of
town and waddled into a clothing store. Minutes later, I see the owner walk out
with the duck cradled in her arms. The sweetness of nothing continued.
Yet, on this April day, everyone knows what
Cinque Terre has become both the victim and beneficiary of one man, Rick Steves, who did for these towns what Ernest Hemingway did
for
Steves (he can be read occasionally in the pages of
this newspaper) is the ge nteel, wildly successful travel guide writer credited with
introducing Cinque Terre to American tourists in 1980 in his book "Europe
Through the Back Door."
Twenty-five years ago, there were no more than a handful of restaurants and
lodging options here. The towns
By the early 1990s, non-Italian touristsespecially Germans and Americanswere
arriving in Cinque Terre in droves. Monterosso
received the first wavewith its sandy beach, intimate guest rooms and access
from the Autostrade, it feels closest to a resort.
And so, the economic engine changed from agrarian to tourism. The younger
generation who would have tended the vineyards now runs Internet cafes by the
harbor. Many older residents sold their homes and retired into the hills.
Today, roughly 40 percent of the housing in Cinque Terre is hotels, guest rooms
and vacation homes.
The Rick Stevesification
of Cinque Terre has produced two schools of thought: One laments a fragile
cultural bubble burst by outsiders, the other praises the godsend of money that
maintains the parks, restores hilltop terraces for agriculture and gives
everyone a comfortable standard of living. The latter point of view by far
outnumbers the former.
On another morning, still jet lagged, I stumble into Il Pirata,
a Sicilian pastry shop at the top of Vernazza. Twin
brothers Massimo and Gianluca Cutropia serve me a
croissant that
"You know what I do every morning? First I kiss my wife. Then I kiss Rick Steves," Massimo says, pointing to the photo.
Ninety-nine percent of the travel books he sees, he says, are Steves
You can see them rolling their cart luggage into the Blue Marlin Bar, the
watering hole in Vernazza where Americans seem to
congregate. Young, hip rock music by bands like Radiohead
and Gorillaz plays from the speakers. The staff
speaks impeccable English. What could be more appealing for us Yanks?
"When the train comes in, it
(Later
I call Steves for his thoughts about his effect on
the region. "I
One thing seems for sure. However many visitors crowd these narrow streets,
Starbucks and McDonald
Next spring, progress will arrive in the form of a cable car taking visitors
from Riomaggiore to the hill towns above. The way to
alleviate overcrowding, a national park spokesman had told me one day, is to
take visitors to the C inque Terre beyond the
picturesque waterfront.
So on a misty and overcast Sunday, my last full day in Cinque Terre, I head
into the hills.
Hiking trails are one of Cinque Terre
The climb, steep but smooth, passes a lonely cemetery ("They
A mile up, the tiny towns on the hill emerge through the haze as if they were
from another time. I come upon a church 1,150 feet above sea level Santuario della Madonna di Reggio that looks like something from a children
I walk behind the church, find a bench near the bluff and stare into the sea. I
look left, at the clusters of pastel buildings speckling the hills.
Be still, I tell myself, as I walk on.
Sometimes, the destination is unknown until you
kpang@tribune.com
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