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lollardfishI am not a tourist! Damnit, I'm not! I know I'm not a tourist because I can say, "this is lovely except for all the tourists" with such a nice little sneer in my voice to my equally un-tourist travelling companion of the day, a lovely young doctor from New Zealand named Elena.
I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself.
So Rome was astounding. The Vatican museum took up my last day, all day, and exhausted me in the way truly great galleries can. It turns out the Sistine Chapel is famous for a reason, as it is truly extraordinary. It is also, the audioguide told me, home to the Last Judgment by Michelangelo, the "most important painting in the world," because it shows us that we will be saved by the grace of Jesus Christ, and the Church ... now, it's all well and good to say that Michelangelo's intent was to present that, but to simply state it as a fact in the audioguide? And then there was the Sala di Constantino in the Raphael rooms. The frescos in that room show the triumph of Constantine, and "the fact that paganism will fall before the Jesus Christ and the Church," or something like that. It's like I was in a country that existed purely to ... oh, right, I was. The Vatican.
Anyway, the galleries were astounding. Feel free to buy me the 700 euro book of the Vatican map hall, a long hall with maps of every region of Italy painted on the walls, down to fantastic details. In the map of Venice, you can literally see every building, and pick out places (not just San Marco). One winds through the chambers of the popes, sees the art, and gets very very tired. By the end of the day (two days ago now, I suppose), the noise and pressure of Rome really had begun to get to me, and resulted in an abrupt change of plan.
I did meet a lovely English chap named George who is about to turn in his thesis for a Ph.D. in Logic at Kings College, London. Bright guy, in town for a conference, spoke a little Italian, was sat down across from me at the pizzeria (I ate a sausage, artichoke, mushroom pizza with an egg fried on top of it. Cappriciosa. Very good) and we drank and chatted long into the night.
So I was going to go to Florence, but just couldn't take another gallery, another city, when beautiful countryside beckoned. So I called up a hostel, booked a room, and got on a train to Cinque Terre.
The train took me along the west coast of Italy, with water often in sight, past a number of port cities, through Pisa, and finally to this little spot in Liguria, the Italian Riviera, called Cinque Terre. It consists of five little villages carved into the cliff face where, I suppose, there are good spots to bring in fishing boats. All of them are quite old and perfect, except for the flocks of tourists in some of them. They are linked by ferries, trains, and, most importantly, a well-preserved 12 km stretch of cliffside paths.
I am staying in Riomaggiore, which feels a bit like a real town, not as much a tourist trap. This is one of those perfect natural spots. The coast sweeps in and out in dramatic cliffs. The water is perfectly clear. The boats brightly painted. The local wine, produce, and fish both sweet and succulent. The people are genuinely friendly. Prices aren't too bad. The weather, today, is sparkling.
Best of all, I shared the place I am staying in with two absolutely lovely Irish girls, Mary and Ann Marie, over in Italy on holiday, and Elena, a doctor from New Zealand. The Irish girls, on their last night here, invited the other two of us (Elena and I arrived at the same time) to make dinner with them, and we prepared a feast. The Irish made the past, replete with a yummy prosciutto, olive, onion tomato sauce. Elena bought wine and made a salad, and I made a caprese appetizer (which consists of tomatoes, basil, and mozerella, lightly drizzled with local olive oil). The four of us talked long into the night, eventually going out for gelato and standing out on a ledge overlooking the darkened harbor of Riomaggiore.
After bidding farewell to Mary and Ann Marie, Elena and I set out for a friendly happy death march! Well, ok, so a hike. 12 km up and down and up and up and up and up and DOWN and narrow and tiring and lunch and drinks and, well, an internet cafe in Monterosso where we are currently gathering our strength for the climb back. We could take a train or ferry back, but ... exercise makes you deserve the nightly feast even more.
Tomorrow, alas, Elena heads off. I think I will rent a kayak and paddle about the coves, and see some of the same sights today, but from the water. Maybe sit on a rock and read and drink wine. Or maybe I'll meet some other people and make new plans. Regardless, any company is nice at this point of the trip, and the people I've met here so far have just been splendid.
Right. Back to the cliffs I go!
(Pictures I found on the web that I like include:
This one.
I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself.
So Rome was astounding. The Vatican museum took up my last day, all day, and exhausted me in the way truly great galleries can. It turns out the Sistine Chapel is famous for a reason, as it is truly extraordinary. It is also, the audioguide told me, home to the Last Judgment by Michelangelo, the "most important painting in the world," because it shows us that we will be saved by the grace of Jesus Christ, and the Church ... now, it's all well and good to say that Michelangelo's intent was to present that, but to simply state it as a fact in the audioguide? And then there was the Sala di Constantino in the Raphael rooms. The frescos in that room show the triumph of Constantine, and "the fact that paganism will fall before the Jesus Christ and the Church," or something like that. It's like I was in a country that existed purely to ... oh, right, I was. The Vatican.
Anyway, the galleries were astounding. Feel free to buy me the 700 euro book of the Vatican map hall, a long hall with maps of every region of Italy painted on the walls, down to fantastic details. In the map of Venice, you can literally see every building, and pick out places (not just San Marco). One winds through the chambers of the popes, sees the art, and gets very very tired. By the end of the day (two days ago now, I suppose), the noise and pressure of Rome really had begun to get to me, and resulted in an abrupt change of plan.
I did meet a lovely English chap named George who is about to turn in his thesis for a Ph.D. in Logic at Kings College, London. Bright guy, in town for a conference, spoke a little Italian, was sat down across from me at the pizzeria (I ate a sausage, artichoke, mushroom pizza with an egg fried on top of it. Cappriciosa. Very good) and we drank and chatted long into the night.
So I was going to go to Florence, but just couldn't take another gallery, another city, when beautiful countryside beckoned. So I called up a hostel, booked a room, and got on a train to Cinque Terre.
The train took me along the west coast of Italy, with water often in sight, past a number of port cities, through Pisa, and finally to this little spot in Liguria, the Italian Riviera, called Cinque Terre. It consists of five little villages carved into the cliff face where, I suppose, there are good spots to bring in fishing boats. All of them are quite old and perfect, except for the flocks of tourists in some of them. They are linked by ferries, trains, and, most importantly, a well-preserved 12 km stretch of cliffside paths.
I am staying in Riomaggiore, which feels a bit like a real town, not as much a tourist trap. This is one of those perfect natural spots. The coast sweeps in and out in dramatic cliffs. The water is perfectly clear. The boats brightly painted. The local wine, produce, and fish both sweet and succulent. The people are genuinely friendly. Prices aren't too bad. The weather, today, is sparkling.
Best of all, I shared the place I am staying in with two absolutely lovely Irish girls, Mary and Ann Marie, over in Italy on holiday, and Elena, a doctor from New Zealand. The Irish girls, on their last night here, invited the other two of us (Elena and I arrived at the same time) to make dinner with them, and we prepared a feast. The Irish made the past, replete with a yummy prosciutto, olive, onion tomato sauce. Elena bought wine and made a salad, and I made a caprese appetizer (which consists of tomatoes, basil, and mozerella, lightly drizzled with local olive oil). The four of us talked long into the night, eventually going out for gelato and standing out on a ledge overlooking the darkened harbor of Riomaggiore.
After bidding farewell to Mary and Ann Marie, Elena and I set out for a friendly happy death march! Well, ok, so a hike. 12 km up and down and up and up and up and up and DOWN and narrow and tiring and lunch and drinks and, well, an internet cafe in Monterosso where we are currently gathering our strength for the climb back. We could take a train or ferry back, but ... exercise makes you deserve the nightly feast even more.
Tomorrow, alas, Elena heads off. I think I will rent a kayak and paddle about the coves, and see some of the same sights today, but from the water. Maybe sit on a rock and read and drink wine. Or maybe I'll meet some other people and make new plans. Regardless, any company is nice at this point of the trip, and the people I've met here so far have just been splendid.
Right. Back to the cliffs I go!
(Pictures I found on the web that I like include:
This one.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
%2096x3.JPG){kind=link}
no subject
Date: 2003-09-13 12:54 pm (UTC)This One.
Or This One.
(http://cue.stanford.edu/journal/db/images/ct1.jpg) (http://web.genie.it/utenti/l/liguria/vern12.jpg)
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Date: 2003-09-13 02:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-13 02:49 pm (UTC)...Hania
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From: