Articles > Cinque Terre

From the sea, the villages of the Cinque Terre - Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore - seem impossibly precarious. Five brave stacks of houses are strung out like a difficult chord along the Ligurian coast just west of La Spezia, in a landscape of narrow inlets, tumbling cliffs and high vine-covered terraces. It’s only when you walk through their steep lanes that you realise how solidly built the villages are. The rocks below provide firm foundations; they also dictate the gradient of a road, the placing of a church, the space available for a terrace or hanging garden.

Two things impressed early visitors to the Cinque Terre. One was the excellence of the wine, a tangy, bubbling white Vernaccia which was praised as long ago as 1340 by Petrarch, who talked of “vines lit up by the kindly eye of the sun and most pleasing to Bacchus”. The other was the sheer steepness of life around these parts. Agostino Giustiniani, a 16th century priest, described the area as “precipitous, rocky, arid and dry, and yet no less full of fertile grapes, which in some places are gathered by men lowered down on ropes”.

As if to give the lie to their rock-hewn solidity, houses in the Cinque Terre are painted in careless rosy pastels and tans, the kind of hues that look Italian even on the colour chart. Once such colours must have worked as pick-me-ups for the tired soul; today they are more in tune with the lifestyle of the local people, who no longer have to dangle on the end of ropes. The vines are now criss-crossed by makeshift rack-monorails: if you come here in September, you may even see a father and son rattling down in a grape-laden toy-train from their family plot halfway up the mountain.

Tourism has transformed the Cinque Terre - though without the horrors to be witnessed elsewhere along the Italian coast. Even without national park status - which is only now in the process of being recognised - this enchanted stretch of coastline has managed to keep itself pure. It has been helped in this by two unlikely allies. One is the steepness of the terrain, which puts a dampener on ribbon development. And the other is the train.

This must be one of the few parts of the world where wine, walking and sea air is bound up with the hoot of the whistle and the hiss of the brakes. The presence of the train is felt mainly in the villages themselves - the only parts of the coast where the line emerges from the side of the mountain. Even here, the available space is so cramped that the platform often heads off into a tunnel (which can make it difficult for passengers to see where they are). It also provides a rumbling soundtrack to that al fresco meal of spaghetti al pesto. In the Cinque Terre, seasoned travellers know to wait for the next train before they say yes to accommodation; some hotels and pensioni are uncomfortably close to the tracks.

The arrival of the railway in the Cinque Terre at the end of the last century was well timed: 20 years later, the temptation to bore a road tunnel alongside the rail link would have been irresistible. It almost happened in the fifties, but political in-fighting saved the day. The result is that while each of the five villages are connected by a winding mountain road - la Strada dei Santuari - the obstinate contours make the railway a clear winner (Manarola to Corniglia takes four minutes by train, at least 30 by road) and act as a deterrent to Sunday drivers.

The lack of tarmac also meant that the network of footpaths used by locals could be re-launched as one of the main attractions of the place. The coastal path which links all five villages - and which continues as far as Portovenere to the east and all the way to Sestri Levante to the west - has become one of Europe’s most famous easy hikes, attracting everyone from rainbow-trousered German anarchists to organised Rotary Club tour groups from the States.

Riomaggiore and Manarola, the easternmost villages, are the only two that are easily accessible by road from La Spezia. Cars are banned from the centres of all the villages, and in high season motorists may find themselves forced to park a fair way up the access road. A smarter move is to drive to La Spezia, park the car by the station and take the train - the journey even to the most distant of the Cinque Terre villages, Monterosso, takes only twenty minutes. It is from here - moving along the coast from west to east - that the following tour departs. All prices quoted refer to the high season (a couple of weeks around Easter and mid-June to mid-September), when many hotels insist on applying half-board.

Monterosso

Monterosso is the only one of the Cinque Terre villages that even begins to emulate a seaside resort. This is mainly because it is the only one which has a sandy beach - two sandy beaches, in fact, one facing the old town at the mouth of the Buranco river valley and the other in the bay of Fegina, the newer suburb which has grown up around the train station. The two parts of town are a 10 minute walk from each other along the seaside prom, Via Fegina.

The beaches - and the fact that there is a little more space here than in the other villages - explain why Monterosso has nineteen out of the twenty-five hotels in the Cinque Terre. The best of these, the four-star Porto Roca, is the nearest the coast comes to luxury accommodation. Perched on the hillside at the far end of town, where the footpath to Vernazza branches off, the hotel makes the most of its position, with sun-lounging-terraces and panoramic balconies in most rooms. The other four-star, the Palme, is an anonymous modern affair that fills up with tour groups. Better to go downmarket but uphill at the Suisse Belvedere which stands alone in a pine grove on the slopes of Punto Mesco, a twenty-minute hike (or five-minute taxi ride) up from Fegina beach. The views over the whole of the Cinque Terre are breathtaking.

Of the restaurants, Peo in the old town is the most simpatico - and the seafood dishes deliver what the marine decor promises. La Cambusa in the central Via Roma is good for al fresco dining. The house wine is a delight; service, though, can be a little absent. Over in Fegina, Miki is the best bet - busy, friendly, and good at fish (displayed in a sawn-off fishing boat at the entrance), with the added bonus of pizza from a wood-fired oven. To buy Cinque Terre wine, try the Enoteca Internazionale. Owner Francesco Giusti has a good selection of local and national bottles, including some of the much sought-after single-growth wines produced by Walter de Battè in Riomaggiore.

Vernazza

A ripple of bright houses on a rocky promontory, a romantic watchtower and a square chock-full of fishing boats above a pocket-sized harbour. It’s easy to see why many visitors find Vernazza the most satisfying of the Cinque Terre villages. It’s also easy to understand why it’s best avoided on Sundays in July and August.

Like most of the Cinque Terre, Vernazza was founded in the early Middle Ages. For a number of centuries after the decline of the Roman Empire, the coast was menaced by Saracen pirates, and the local population took refuge in the inaccessible mountain hinterland. They ventured seawards only after 1000, when the Saracen threat had passed. Towards the end of the thirteenth century, the Cinque Terre fell under the muscular influence of the Genoese republic. Of the five villages, Vernazza was the real prize, as it was the only one to have a true harbour. Its strategic importance was reflected in the fact that it had its own seat in the Genoese parliament.

From the train station - centrally located, for once - Via Roma snakes down past a tiny bar/trattoria, Il Baretto, which is good at cakes and cocktails, to the harbour-front Piazza Marconi. With its cluster of tempting bars and restaurants, framed by the belltower of Santa Margherita di Antiochia and the tall keep of the Doria castle, this square poses the classic diner’s dilemma. The two most serious contenders are the Gambero Rosso - which has the more fishy decor and the more nouvelle ambitions - and Gianni Franzi - which does solid, no-nonsense Ligurian cooking, and does it well. The Gambero wins out with its version of anchovies and potatoes - a Vernazzan speciality - but the service at Gianni Franzi is more amiable, and the trofie al pesto are magnificent.

As in most of the Cinque Terre villages outside of Monterosso, new arrivals in Vernazza will often be approached by locals with rooms to rent. These are sometimes a little on the seedy side, but with hotel accommodation in such short supply (there are only 25 official beds) it is sometimes the only option. A good alternative, however, are the two houses nestling underneath the castle walls belonging to Gianni Franzi. They function like hotels, but without the reception. It’s a steep climb, but worth it: the rooms are done out in an original Indo-Ligurian style and, best of all, both houses share a well-kept terrace garden, sandwiched between the castle and the crashing waves below. The best of the two official hotels, the one-star Albergo Barbara offers clean, basic rooms overlooking the harbour.

Corniglia

On a rainy day in January it may be difficult to see its charms, but come here on a weekend in August when there are pedestrian traffic jams down in Vernazza and you realise why Cinque Terre aficionados have a soft spot for Corniglia. It is the most reserved of the five villages, the most aloof - but for that very reason it can be a good place to sip a glass of wine, loosen the walking boots, and take stock.

The village is perched on a knoll above the spume, and its tall houses seem to turn their backs on the sea. As, indeed, did the original inhabitants of the Cinque Terre: even after they moved downhill from their mountain fastnesses, most locals continued to work the land. There were only a handful of families in each village that made a living out of fishing; for most, the sea was simply a form of transport.

The stretch of coastal path between Vernazza and Corniglia, through olive groves and vines, past fragrant orange blossom and rosemary, is one of the prettiest (and steepest) sections of the walk. If you time it right, you can use the walk to build up an appetite for the Cantina de Mananan, an original trattoria in an eighteenth-century wine cellar which makes a virtue out of self-sufficiency. The pasta is all home-made, as are the desserts; salamis and cheeses come from small local producers, and most of the wine is made by the owner, Agostino Galletti. The pansoti al sugo di noci (ricotta and herb ravioli with walnut sauce) are excellent. Out of season, phone ahead before planning a walk around a meal here, as opening times can be erratic.

Hotel accommodation in Corniglia is non-existent, apart from the “Europa Holiday Village”, a string of sad wooden chalets wedged between the railway station below the village - that’s 377 steps below, in case you were thinking of getting the train to Corniglia - and the boulder-strewn beach. There are plenty of camere in affitto (rooms for let) signs along Via Fieschi; for longer stays, the owner of the Cantina de Mananan has a small villa to rent amidst the vineyards.

Manarola

Manarola’s tiny fishing fleet is hauled up high-and-dry above the stark grey crags that try in vain to define a harbour. The boats seem placed for colour, for maximum postcard potential. But come here on a stormy day in winter when the scirocco sends the breakers crashing against the rocks, and you’ll understand why the locals like to keep their boats up here where they can keep an eye on them. The houses of Manarola follow the S of a narrow valley until it meets the sea, where they scurry out of range of the waves up a small headland. It is just as picturesque as Vernazza, but feels sterner, more private - though privacy is a relative concept in high season, when the ease of road access from La Spezia adds to the crush of walkers and train-hoppers. Lack of space meant that the station had to be built east of the village; it is reached via a pedestrian tunnel.

Punto Bonfiglio, the headland on the other side of the harbour from the main nest of houses, hosts the village cemetery, below which is a pretty park with a summer bar and children’s play area. This is the place to come for views back over the town, and it’s also the starting-point for the short walk to Corniglia. The most famous stretch of the coastal path is the 20 minute stroll east to Riomaggiore, known as the Via dell’Amore - an inspired choice of name for what was originally a service path for railway workers. Sections of the path tunnel beneath overhang rocks; others brush past semi-tropical outbreaks of aloe, prickly pears and mock orange. Above all, though, it’s the exposed geology that dominates the scene.

There are two hotels in Manarola, and both have their good points. The Ca’ d’Andrean in the high part of town, just below the pretty 14th century church, is the place to come for peace and quiet - as long as the nightly frog chorus doesn’t bother you. The reception area was once a wine and oil cellar, and there is a small garden with lemon trees. Down by the boats and the summer bustle is the Marina Piccola, a hotel-restaurant with some rooms above the dining area and others in a separate building next door. Half-board is usually imposed, but as this is the only one of the village’s restaurants worth considering (despite the over-hassled waiters), that’s no real hardship. The seafood primi are tasty, and the walnut cake is positively succulent.

Riomaggiore

Riomaggiore may be the closest of the five villages to the big smoke and naval clamour of La Spezia - which provides employment for a number of locals - but the proximity has not ruined its charms. Quite the opposite, in fact: Riomaggiore comes across as one of the most confidently self-contained of the Cinque Terre villages. Tourists are welcome, but they don’t stop the riomaggioresi getting on with their lives.

The cluster of houses outside the station is not downtown Riomaggiore. To get there, you can either walk through the foot tunnel or, if not loaded down with luggage, take the pretty scenic path that branches off from the end of platform three. The village centres on the usual main street, snaking inland and uphill, but here the tiny harbour is off to one side, almost a separate village (and considered such by the locals). There is only one hotel, the two-star Villa Argentina, on the access road overlooking the town. To stay in the centre, ask at or ring ahead to one of the two accommodation agencies on the central Via Colombo. Affittacamere Edi at no. 111 and Roberto Fazioli at no. 94 have various-sized rooms and apartments on offer. Fazioli has six apartments on his books around the charming little port, including two with small terraces. The decor wouldn’t make it into World of Interiors, but watching the sun set with a jug of wine (and thou) is what counts around here.

The port - a quiet place, thanks to its off-centre position - is also where you will find Riomaggiore’s best restaurant, La Lanterna. Space on the tiny terrace is cramped; the wood-pannelled interior is a clutter of maritime scenes and sailors’ knots. The owner is an authority on local fishing: while you tuck into your spaghetti with conger-eel sauce (surprisingly delicious) he’ll chat happily about the return of the grouper to these coasts and where to go to have it out with an angler-fish.

This article originally appeared in Conde Nast Traveller (UK)

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