Curses! The best laid plans… Apparently the Italian rail system is being shut down by a strike tomorrow. I’m working on options…
Sunday, April 14, 2002 12:52
Weather: Partly cloudy… and partly rainy.
Location: Fiaschetteria restaurant
My bad. No journal entry for yesterday so I have some catching up to do.
I woke up bright and early yesterday and was actually the very first to arrive at the Uffizi museum. Since I hadn’t yet eaten, I wandered around the block and stopped at a couple of cafés, where I picked up cappucinos and a croissant. I sat in the outdoor Loggia della Signoria, a covered open air statuary display to one side of the Piazza della Signoria, from where I could keep an eye on the line at the Uffizi, and once a few people had gathered I knew where to go and joined them.
As I was about number eight in line, I had no trouble getting into the museum, despite its strict limits on the number of guests in at any one time. On top of the €8 entry charge, I paid €2 for an illustrated map and another €4.50 for an audio guide, which wasn’t as good as the one at the Thyssen-Bournemisza in Madrid but was still interesting. All told, it took me about 4 hours to work through the Uffizi’s impressive collection, whose quality level is extraordinary, though its display area is not as massive as those of the Prado, the Met, or some of the other great museums of the world.
After lunch I picked up my tour at the Palazzo Pitti, a massive palace on the hill to the south of the city, across the river. I went around the royal apartments, which were piled high with paintings and objects d’art. In comparison to the Medici’s Uffizi collection, the Pitti clearly represented the triumph of ridiculous wealth over good taste, particularly the ceilings, painted with frescoes of the Hapsburgs being crowed by angels and the trials of Hercules, for example. Not that the paintings were bad, mind–they surely represented the best money could buy at the time, which is saying a lot–but they went in for a lot of tasteless ‘victory over the poor’ and ‘glory the rich’ themes, along with the standard collection of religious art, though with rather scantier clothing than was, perhaps, justified.
While I finished my tour of the Pitti, a sharp rain shower started up. When it came time to decide what to do next, this made things difficult. I’d just decided to give up on the palace’s gardens in favour of trying to make a 4pm concert at the Teatro la Pergola when the rain stopped. I changed course and went to the gardens after all. Of course, just after I’d fully committed to this strategy and it was too late to make it to the concert, the rain started up again.
After the gardens (magnificent, huge, wet) I headed back across the river and stopped for an Internet fix (and to get out of the rain). When I emerged the rain had stopped.
Next, I wanted to find the Teatro and see about a ticket for the concert the following (Sunday) night. It was right next to an English language bookstore, so I picked up Nick Hornby’s latest on my way past.
Again, I hit a box office that wouldn’t sell me a ticket to a show the next day. (One wonders why they bother to have staff…)
Time for dinner: I found my way to a great little restaurant that was recommended to me by an American couple in Vernazza, the Osteria la Congrega (via Panicale 43). It wasn’t cheap, but the food was very good, and after all of my mind-expanding walking I had a good appetite. I rolled home well fed and lubricated.
This morning I picked up a cappucino and croissant at Gilli and went to the 10:30 service in the Duomo. I expected a gold-encrusted, over-the-top palace of a place, but it was surprisingly austere inside, with mainly plain white walls, though the interior of the cupola has a wonderful fresco. The service was in Italian and Latin, but as it followed the same structure as the ones at St. Mary Magdalene’s in Toronto I felt right at home and had no trouble keeping up. There was a small crowd–the building was only half filled with pews–but it was very nice.
Just before lunch I walked up to the Piazzale Michelangelo, up some steep stairs on the south side of the river, from where I had a great view of the city. Finally, back down to this little restaurant (Fiaschetteria) which has great food and very reasonable prices.
Now I just need to figure out what to do with my afternoon. I think maybe not too much more walking…
Friday, April 12, 2002 23:20
Weather: Rainy morning, cloudy afternoon.
Location: Room 3, Auberge Montreal, Florence.
A very full day, but as it’s already late and I have to get up very early I’m going to try and keep this short.
I headed out of Vernazza on the 9.12 train to La Spezia, in the company of a young American couple from Florida (bound for Rome) and an older Canadian couple from B.C. (heading west overland from La Spezia). About seven minutes after my arrival in La Spezia, I was on another train, an Intercity to Pisa Centrale and Rome, together with the Americans.
Also in our compartment was another American woman, on her way to meet a group of friends in Pisa, and a young nurse from Switzerland, Monika, on a day trip to Pisa. Since we were both on our own, Monika and I teamed up to explore the town.
It was pouring rain, and my €3 umbrella from Lisbon was falling apart. Every time I opened it another strut or support would break. This was an endless source of amusement for Monika, and possibly why she put up with me with such good humour.
The cathedral, with its famous leaning bell tower, was all the way at the other end of the downtown area. Fortunately Pisa is not all that big, so it only took us 15 minutes or so to walk there. After a brief exploration we found the ticket office and bought tickets to the tower (€15! Steep!!) and the cathedral (€2! Cheap!!). The tower is only accessible in scheduled groups, so we killed some time taking pictures.
There’s not much to see on the tower climb–basically, a staircase runs up between the outer wall and an inner wall, leading to a covered balcony, with a smaller spiral stair to the roof. Obviously, the appeal is in taking pictures that highlight the lean of the building, which I duly did, though I imagine the whole experience would have been a lot more interesting before they closed the thing to partially level it. At least now the cables and weights are gone.
The cathedral had a wonderful interior, with massive paintings on most of the walls and a lot of gold paint.
We had lunch in an ugly, but tasty and cheap, restaurant on a side street near the university, then walked back to the train station where I said goodbye to Monika (who was headed back to La Spezia) and hopped on the train to Florence.
Things worked out very well in Florence–I like the city already. It didn’t hurt that the rain had stopped. I made it out of the train station without being robbed even once, and soon found my hotel about 2 blocks away. I checked in and was given a nice single room with a sink, and shown the shared bathroom down the hall. I dumped the clothes pack and headed out.
First stop was the tourist office. A helpful lady gave me a “what’s on” guide, which (to her confusion) listed a symphony concert for today that hadn’t made it onto their daily summary sheet. I headed over to the Teatro Verdi to try and buy a ticket, passing by the incredibly huge Duomo (cathedral) en route. The ticket office was not, however, selling tickets to the concert (wrong company or something) but said I could come back at 7:30 to buy one.
To assuage hunger I walked over to the Piazza de la Republica (which has a huge victory arch) and had a pastry in the très luxe Gille café. Then, realizing that wasn’t going to cut it as dinner, I followed it up with a slice of pizza and a glass of red wine at a small place down the street.
I wandered into the Piazza della Signoria, took a photo of the Palazzo Vecchio, and wandered past the Uffizi museum to the river. I had a great view of the Ponte Vecchio to the right, though I think the light will be better in the morning. I crossed it, walked back along the other shore, and came back over at the Ponte alle Grazie, from where I got a shot of the Vecchio.
After another brief stop, for gelato, it was finally time for the concert. The Orchestra del Maggio Musicale Florentino, one of Florence’s two top-tier orchestras, had an inspired programme: Tchaikovski’s Romeo & Juliet (overture & fantasia), Sibelius’ Concerto in D minor for violin & orchestra, and Tchaikovski’s Symphony #6 (“Pathétique”). It was an extraordinary concert, one of the best I’ve ever seen live. The violin soloist, Leonidas Kavakos, was stunning throughout the Sibelius and afterwards had to take 6 curtain calls and perform two solo encores. It’s on again tomorrow–I may just go see it again.
Anyway, I must get to bed. The alarm’s set for 6am–must get to the Uffizi before the line gets too long.
Thursday, April 11, 2002 19:05
Weather: Rain.
Location: A trattoria just below the train station in Vernazza, whose name I forgot to write down.
A satisfyingly lazy day. I slept in quite late, just clearing out of my room as the cleaners got to it. The sky was dark with a persistant rain, so I resolved to find a newspaper and a good café and settle in.
At the local tobacco/magazine/postcard/newspaper/souvenir shop I picked up a copy of the Independent, then spent another hour and a half updating the web site, checking that my bank balance is still ok, and checking on the weather forecast. So far this trip I’ve been lucky, but maybe now it’s time to pay the piper: looks like a front has settled in and all of Italy is due for rain for the next few days. Not too bad, though: I’ll concentrate on indoor museums and sights in Florence, and hopefully the rain will clear by the time I get to Civita di Bagnoregio on Tuesday. I was able to book myself into the only B&B in that tiny village by email!
After stopping to pick up lunch–olive foccacia bread and a salami and cheese sandwich, with a glass of white wine to get me started–I walked up to the train station. After a half hour of wait, I caught a commuter train to La Spezia, a large town with a naval base, around the next turn in the coastline from the Cinque Terre.
I thought I might spend an hour seeing some of La Spezia and then head back to Riomaggiore, but the station was a bit farther from the port than I expected and I was quite content to wander for a while, especially after I found a long pedestrian street heading in my direction. On the left, the streets ran into the hillside and turned into wide staircases heading up, many with flower arrangements or statuary. At the second newsagent I passed I was able to find a copy of the Herald Tribune, so my reading material for the day was assured.
At the end of the pedestrian street was a large formal park alongside the harbour. I crossed the road and walked through the park in the rain. Other than some policemen buying coffees at a roadside stand, there seemed to be no one else around, and after a brief survey of rather boring flowerbeds and shrubbery, along with a proud but, let’s face it, wet statue of Garibaldi on horseback, I headed back to the pedestrian street. From what I’d seen of the harbour it was large, mainly commercial, and sadly bereft of nice tourist-friendly warm cafés to sit in, so I stopped instead in a small café that I’d passed on the street and had a very milky capuccino while I read my paper.
I arrived back at the train station at exactly 15:08, i.e. when the 15:08 train to Cinque Terre was just gathering momentum. I had a pretty boring seventy minutes of wait for the next train, but soon thereafter was back in Vernazza.
After a nap, I set off for dinner. I stopped at the tobacconist’s and bought a €5 phone card, since I’ll probably have a few chances to use it while I’m here. I checked my email for all of 2 minutes (€0.30) and found a phone booth by the station. Five phone calls later (SO much easier with a phone card) I had a reservation for a hotel in Florence, guaranteed with my credit card so I can take my time at lunch in Pisa.
To celebrate this success, I’ve just enjoyed a great meal and am working on finishing off a half litre of the house red. I think there may be some tiramisu in my future.
[20 minutes later]
Best tiramisu of my life. Goodnight! (hic)
[side note]
Throughout my meal the restaurant has been playing a CD of orchestral versions of Pink Floyd songs, with a heavy focus on The Wall. Kinda surreal.
Ok, I think I’ve licked the archive problem for now. Had to switch to a month per page instead of a week, so the archive pages are a lot longer than they were… My apologies. I guess the number of weeks was starting to break some limit. It’s hard to believe, but I’ve been writing this blog for 16 months now!
By the way, in case you were wondering what the little “link” button below each post is for, it contains the deep link to that post within the archives. If you want to link to a specific post in this site, use the address within that link, which will take you to the post’s permanent location. Linking to the home page won’t work, because the posts there disappear as new ones are added.
18:21
Location: Ananasso Bar, Vernazzo harbour square
A great day. My feet hurt, so it must have been a good hike! There were some pretty serious ups and downs, so I expect to hear from my legs tomorrow…
The Via dell’ Amore started with a long cool well-lit tunnel which came out near the Manarola station. Here, I was intercepted by a woman who checked the ticket I had bought in Vernazza. I was gratified to find it had indeed been genuine, and was let past with no bother. The rest of the path, after climbing up some stairs, was a wide, level, paved lane, which passed along some truly steep cliffs. In places the path was cut deep into the cliff face, with windows cut out through the cliff walls to let in light. There was a fair amount of graffiti, some beautiful but most rather ugly.
The Via turned a corner and came to Riomaggiore’s train station. It was getting on in the day and I still had a long walk from Monterosso to Vernazza to complete, so I went straight in, waited 10 minutes, and caught the train back to Monterosso, without actually seeing Riomaggiore at all. Hopefully I’ll get a chance tomorrow.
Monterosso al Mare had a wide beach, with sand and even a couple of brave paddlers, and a road running parallel. On benches set on the sea side of the road, the old women of the village were seated in groups of two to four, chatting and soaking up the sunshine. Younger locals were also out in force, walking up and down the road, singly with bicycles, or as couples, hand in hand.
I made my way towards Vernazza, and the road led through a tunnel while the sidewalk headed up some stairs to a paved path around the next turn in the cliffs to the eastern cove of the village, where it met up with the road again. Here, fishing boats and paddle boats were lined up side by side. One fisherman was working on the engine of his boat, about 20 foot long with a little cabin, raised up on wooden supports so the propellers span futily in the air, with the little exhaust plume spraying backwards onto the sand.
I continued on and came to a bowls game in a small fenced-off club on the left. There were several spectators who had hopped up on the low wall next to the fence, and I hopped up beside them to watch. The players were really good, tossing and rolling their balls with amazing accuracy over a good 20 foot distance, with exquisitely applied spin to curve them in to the target at the end of their path. A couple of American girls stopped to watch and I explained what little I knew of the rules. They headed on towards Vernazza, and after a few more minutes and a couple of photos, I followed.
The path to Vernazza rose up steeply at the beginning, climbing high and more or less straight up the hillside. After some distance, it started curving around the hill, but kept climbing. The path was very well maintained, but for the most part it was quite narrow, though there were railings where the cliff edges were the most sheer. There were also some magnificent views, and I was very glad I had stopped to buy more film in Manarola. I soon passed the Americans again, and at one point stopped to take a picture of them on the path behind me.
On the final bend before the descent to Vernazza I came upon a French couple, and offered to take a photo of the two of them together. There was a dramatic backdrop, and they offered to take mine there as a reciprocal gesture, which I was happy to accept.
Finally I started the descent to Vernazza. There were a couple of picture postcard views–literally, as the postcards on sale in the village were clearly taken from the path. I stopped for a few shots. A German couple were bemoaning their lack of film, so I offered to email a photo to them, and took down the man’s email address. We continued walking on together into the town. Then I said goodbye and went down to the harbour square for a much-needed beer.
Sadly, as the sun has started going down the clouds have rolled in, and the sky is now cool and gray. I can only hope that it will clear up again tomorrow, for another great day!
Wednesday, April 10, 2002 14:52
Weather: Hazy but sunny, light clouds
Location: On a rock of the seawall of Manarola, Cinque Terre, Italy
Once again I’ve beaten the odds and the weather forecasters and scored a beautiful day. I’m sitting on a large, roughly-hewn rock on the short seawall protecting Manarola’s harbour. From here, I can see along the coastline to my right the hilltop village of Corniglia, the top houses of Vernazza, and in the far distance the resort town of Monterosso al Mare. A large tourist boat (which seems to be named UFO 4) is just passing, no doubt bound for Riomaggiore. There are a few others seated with me on the rocks: to my right, a pair of young women are starting to pack up and head off, while on my left a couple has settled in companionably for the afternoon. In the village behind, the ice cream shop is selling a lot of gelato, because the air is quite warm although the breeze off the sea is refreshingly cool.
I had a late morning, not getting up and out until after 9, and after a cappucino and a piece of bread studded with chocolate chips, I packed up for my hike. I was soon distracted from this by the Internet café in the village, which sucked me in for a couple of hours of “rest of the world” fix. It was after 12 when I set out again, so my first stop was in a little grocery store where I picked up bread, salami, cheese, olives, chocolate and water for a picnic lunch.
Finally I was off, finding the path to Corniglia just above the railway station. It climbed steeply up over worn rough stone steps, past an old tower on top of the hill. The view back into the village was wonderful, and I snapped a couple of photos.
The path continued to climb as it went forward. I passed several groups of people, walking in both directions, many of them German and French (as opposed to the mostly American crowd on the trains), though few of them apparently Italian. I shortly came across a man at a little table who sold me a pass to the trails for €3.
As I write this, UFO 4 has returned from Riomaggiore and has come in, nose first, to sit just off the pier to my left. They’ve dropped a gangway and are loading passengers.
The trail continued, climbing and dipping along the coast. Tiered vineyards and orchards clung precariously on either side. At length I turned a corner and could see Corniglia, with Manarola behind. I stopped and ate half of my picnic.
Continuing on, I passed through Corniglia, sitting sprawled out across the top of a low hill. I cut through the middle, and came out at the top of a zigzag staircase leading down to the railway station and the pathway to Manarola, which runs along the top of a fortress-like wall, with a stony beach below. No one was swimming, and the beach houses were closed for the off season.
At the end of the wall walkway, the path switchbacked up a bit and then continued around the cliff, cut into the edge with a wooden or steel balcony on the outside. There were a couple of ways down to the water’s edge from here, and a pair of men were sitting on the rocks at the bottom of one, with the calm azure waters lapping the rocks beside them.
Around the next corner was Manarola, a small cluster of pastel houses huddling the cliff tops, with a minuscule harbour below. Summer sailboats and dinghy’s were drawn high up out of the water, but the warm weather had tourists and locals alike out for a seat in the sunshine. I picked up a chocolate and blackberry gelato cone, and headed down to find a place to sit and write this.
Onwards now, on the Via dell’ Amore to Riomaggiore, from where I’ll catch a train back to Monterosso. Then one last, tough hour and a half walk home to Vernazza, and dinner.
Later the same day… 20:38
Location: Taverna del Capitano, Vernazza
A smooth day on the trains. The Cisapino from Geneva to Milan was half full for most of the trip, though it filled up nearer the end. I sat across a table from a young man traveling light from Lausanne, but I was in a quiet mood and we didn’t speak.
The train wound around the north shore of Lac Leman, past Lausanne and Montreux. We passed close by the Chateau de Chillon, sitting squat and thick on the lakeshore. Some of my clearest memories from Grade 5 are of walking down from Glion to the chateau, where I thought up complicated Dungeons & Dragons adventures in its picture-perfect walls.
We proceeded, and in due course came out of a long tunnel into Italy. The train stopped to pick up the border guards for passport checks, and then we were off again.
Milan, a massive railway station, was busy and impersonal. The board showed my next train, and InterCity, as running 20 minutes late. After a washroom stop I wanted to call ahead to Cinque Terre, but was defeated by the phone system and gave up easily.
From Milan, I left in the long InterCity train, sitting in the very first compartment with the railway officials and an agent of the railway police (complete with sidearm). I figured that with them for company I had no need to worry about theft on the train, but at the very next stop the policeman and one agent got off, and the remaining agent started her round, leaving me alone in the car.
Outside, the flat land around Milan gradually got mountainous again as we approached the coast. There were frequent gorgeous old churches, castles and mansions on either side, so many that it was clear why some were not still greatly valued: one notable old building, with a wonderful Romanesque portico, was missing some of the glass in its windows and seemed to be serving as a power transmission station.
We passed through Genoa, where the hills rose up on the left of the station, liberally covered with 19th C. and older buildings. A statue in an archway overlooked the tracks. I started getting worried that I might not be able to tell when I got to the right station, a real problem because the train was longer than many of the platforms, and the signs were often out of sight up front. So I picked up my gear and moved forward.
Up at the front of the 1st class carriages I ran into the railway agent who’d started in my car. She helpfully pulled out her schedule and confirmed that I’d be able to catch a local train to Vernazza from Sestri Levante. We tried some small talk, but it petered out until we worked out that we both spoke french. Then we were off, talking about Barcelona and Gaudí. All too quickly we were at Sestri Levante and I said goodbye and hopped off.
While I waited for the next train I got a slice of pizza in the restaurant’s cafe, which took the edge off my hunger, though it was neither large nor particularly fresh. Then I roamed aimlessly until the next train came to take me away.
This last trip was the home stretch. Between towns the train started spending more and more time passing through dark little tunnes, as the cliff faces got closer and closer to the sea. When we got to the first of the Cinque Terre villages, Monterosso al Mare, a horde of American tourists boarded the train.
So lesson 1 from today: when Rick Steves recommends a “Back Door” in Europe, it gets a whole lot of visitors.
Just a bit further on, the train stopped in the tunnel. This was actually the train station for Vernazza, whose outdoor platform is only about one car long. I got off, sidestepped a man asking if I was looking for a room, and headed downhill into the village.
Though everyone in Vernazza seemed to be a tourist, the town nonetheless retains an enormous amount of charm. There are no fancy modern hotels. There is, in fact, only one street, which runs from the top of the town where the road to the outside world hits a barrier blocking cars from entry, and where vineyards stack high up the mountainside, down to the tiny harbour, whose natural shelter has been further extended with a short breakwater. Alleyways lead off sideways, and often steeply upwards. The old buildings now frequently house services for the visitors, including a self-service laundry (€4.75 each for washing and drying a load, which seems extortionate), an Internet café, a wine merchant, a few bars, and several restaurants, plus innumerable pensiones and private rooms. Vernazza has clearly adjusted smoothly in its own way to the realities of a tourist economy!
Almost everyone speaks English and French (though my brief attempts to communicate in Italian raised a few smiles) and the prices are big city. My hotel room, with a shared clean bathroom next door, is €44 per night, but it’s on top of the seafront village, with a view of the harbour and the noise of the waves below, up some romantic alleys and 3 flights of spiral stairs, and I’m pretty happy with it.
So lesson 2 from the day: just because a lot of people have descended on Rick Steves recommendation doesn’t necessarily stop them from being lovely places to visit.
I’m here for three nights. One of the next two days, weather permitting, I’m going to hike from end to end of the Cinque Terre, about five hours. The other day will be for relaxation, and soaking in some of Italy’s charms before the trip to Florence on Friday.
Friday, April 9, 2002 11:35
Location: The Italian alps, onboard the Geneva-Milan train
Weather: Cool, cloudy and damp
A quick passport check after coming through the tunnel, and I’m back in the Euro zone with Switzerland behind me.
I had a great weekend staying with my Uncle Peter and Aunt Helena in their wonderful apartment in Ferney-Voltaire, just across the French border from Geneva. They live in the Dependances du Chateau, built by Voltaire himself, when he relocated the town of Ferney to provide sufficient room for his castle and estate. The Dependance housed Voltaire’s chaplain, and a large wine cellar, still littered with bottles, a pair of ancient casks, and a massive wine press. Upstairs, the old building has been retrofitted with elegant modern apartments, and Peter and Helena live in the southern one, up a wooden spiral staircase.
On Sunday morning we had a wonderful brunch, with fresh croissants from the bakery in town and delicious smoked salmon from the market. Then we headed over the border back into Switzerland, driving around Lac Leman to Aigle, near the eastern end. We hiked up into the mountains for a few hours. The dogs, Bagles and Bashti, strained frequently on their leashes as they came across interesting country smells, and on the way up we crossed the railway tracks of the little train that serves the villages of the mountain. It was hazy, but the mountains around were still visible looming huge through the trees. After a picnic lunch we headed back down, stopping for photos of the vineyards and perfect chateau in the valley, and for tisane and coffee in the teashop of the village.
Sunday night, Helena (who is a fantastic cook) prepared a special treat: duck a l’orange, with potatoes and beans, and a selection of cheeses for dessert, all with a couple of fine bottles from their extensive wine collection.
Monday proceeded in a similar vein, though as Peter and Helena both had work I amused myself for the day. In the evening two of their friends, John and Mary Ruth Fox, came for dinner (coq au vin). Peter knows John from working together at the UN, while Mary Ruth is a doctor. They were both extremely nice people, and we had a wonderful evening. I got an invitation to stop by and visit them in Washington, to be introduced to their daughters, so I guess I made a good impression!
This morning Peter dropped me off at the train station on his way to work, and I was off again. I’m aiming for the villages of Cinque Terre. We’re just pulling into Stresa, set on a long lake with two or three wonderful islands, themselves built up with houses. Hey, I’m in Italy!!
Just a quick note to say that I’m still alive, have had a great weekend relaxing with my uncle and aunt, but haven’t yet had the time to write up a journal entry. I’m travelling to Italy today, so I’ll write something on the train.
Ciao!