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For the wanderers

Castrums, Neptune and a votiveship

Conquered it, lovely readers! Conquered it! I finally found the narrow stairway* up to the Capuchin Monastery and the medieval castrum that’s since been incorporated into the current cemetery, up there on the mountainside opposite my abode. Worth it? Yessir! And the view? Breathtaking!

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And did you know this dear little Monterosso al Mare village (my current abode and one of the five Cinque Terre villages) actually dates back to Roman times? And the castrum began its defense role in the early 7th century?

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Also, checked in on the remnants of the Giant Neptune bearing on his shoulder an enormous shell which was originally a dance stage. Unfortunately WW2 bombings and later, heavy seas, extensively damaged both. He sits above the Fegina beach next to the little harbour in the new town.20130724-091622.jpg
New town? Well, the village is spread over two inlets. In that of the Bruanco River, to the East, there is the historical core, while the settlement located in the inlet of Fegina, to the West, there’s the more recently developed ‘new town’. Both have beaches, unique to Monterosso, and thus are layered with deck-chairs, umbrellas and tourists.

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Population 2,000, tucked into the tiny alleys and stairways…swamped by volumes of tourists as the season picks up, the majority being village day-trippers and sun-seekers. Few penetrate as far as my eerie; deservedly if they do for they are demonstrating admirable ‘buns of steel’.

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The historic village is heavy on places of worship and despite atheist tendencies, I can’t help but be impressed by their history, humbleness and majesty. There’s the Church of San Giovanni Battista of the Gothic-Genovese style, dating back to 1244 with a proud steeple made of greenstone and which originally served as a sentinel. The oratory ‘Mortis et Orationis’ (Death and Prayer) is of the Baroque style and then there’s my favourite, the miniature oratory of ‘Santa Crose’.

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Why my fave? Well, there’s a dear little wooden ship suspended from the ceiling (known as a ‘Votiveship’; a handmade offering of thanksgiving from grateful sailors or fishermen for safe voyages) which reminds me of Telly. There’s the ever so kitsch sparkling halo the Virgin Mary’s sporting which makes me grin out loud. And then there’s the towering organ above the entrance which reminds me of my late Grandpa (a brilliant, commanding church organist). When resting in one of the pews there today, I could almost swear I heard him whisper…now that’s an organ worth playing my pet! Darling Pa? I suspect you already have.

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*Sadly, many of the Cinque Terre walks have been closed for maintenance or repair including the lover’s walk after several people were injured as a result of a landslide.image

Stay tuned for notes from Vernazza!

When the moon hits your…

It’s my birthday today lovely readers and I’ve treated myself to a little water fun! !Let me tell you about it…

Come on in the water’s lovely’! calls one of my fellow guests. We’ve just moored beneath a majestic waterfall, the Prosecco’s flowing, Dean Martin’s crooning and the water is more than lovely, it’s delicious! Cool, crystal clear and the perfect salve to recent deck basking. Kids are playing on the green mossy rocks below the fall and we are floating over gentle waves on a batch of pool noodles singing ‘like a big pizza pie…that’s amore’. Yes and ‘questa è la vita‘ – this is the life!

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And so began an idyllic viewing of the Cinque Terre – the ‘five lands’ via a sparkling ocean dotted with Yachts, pleasure craft and our very own quaint little fishing boat.

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The cooling swim beneath the waterfall has our temperatures under control in time for a leisurely onshore feast in Vernazza. Pizza pie? Heck no! Delicate little freshly marinated sardines and squid, rich black tapenade and olive infused tomato bruschetta, paper-thin prosciutto and rockmelon and spaghetti laden with seafood, Genovese pesto Trofe pasta; and all washed down with a crisp white or two followed by a searing espresso guaranteed to keep you awake ’till Wednesday.

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20130721-170414.jpgAnother dip and back on deck for a lazy float on down past Corniglia and Manarola to Riomaggiore and back to Monterosso al Mere, admiring tiny little beaches along the way that mountain goats would find challenging yet the locals have conquered…and some of them are nude.

Eight assorted Aussies, two Canadians and one very lusty Italian – Angelo our Skipper – saw Prosecco glasses flying, olives bouncing, little kids tipping over, the boat precariously too, in the rush for binoculars. Our fabulously fun host Linda whispered that the Adonis standing on a rock with his back to us was ‘excited’. Oh yes? She chuckled – ‘An audience for a woodie?’

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Our second skipper hails from Adelaide, owns a business with 35 ‘yes sirs’ and can think of nothing better than his annual stint doing exactly this…ferrying excited tourists hungry for just one more glance at the colourful little gems nestled within impossibly narrow crevices, the lush green mountains protecting their backs, the deep blue ocean lapping their shores…ah the mighty Cinque Terre.

Now that’s Amore!

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Angelo’s Boat Tours

Oh look! A chook!

Chook! ‘Pollo’! Freshly roasting chicken…I could smell them. Started salivating, followed the nose and there they were! And there too, in front of the van selling chickens directly off the rotisserie, were 17 Italian mamas also hell bent on claiming ‘Pollos’. Not just one, whole rotisserie forks full! And that when the trouble started.

It was ugly. Hair flew! Kids scattered. Tourists dropped their Zeppoles (donut holes). Dogs leapt up and down in the dust adding excited yapping to the cacophony of screeching Italian fishwives and, like a conductor with baton in hand enticing the best from the brass section, the chook cooker waved his empty rotisserie fork. Empty!

Took some time for the scrum to settle as the scowling women, clutching just two chooks each to their heaving breasts, dispersed into the normally peaceful Thursday markets. But why the kerfuffle?

Well it seems cooked chook isn’t as common as an Aussie barbie ‘Coles drive by’ in this neck of the woods. The ‘supermercatos’ don’t stock them and the lone village butcher takes orders a week in advance then delivers the little gems into hands waving tickets on Sunday morning between 10 am and 1pm. I learnt this the hard way. No order, no Pollo. Hmmph!

Today I scored! And you know what? That poor bird had not given up the fight without a serious battle of her own. Small, tough and coated in a golden roasted skin. Actually she reminded me of…

Meanwhile, a lovely collage of fishing nets I found piled in a little corner of the village.

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