Leaving Florence, we planned to head south towards Naples, Rome, and the Almalfi Coast. At the last minute we changed plans. The congested but beautiful city of Florence made me long for an easier pace. The warm waters of the Mediterranean, seemed to be the easy choice. Although I had been here numerous times, there were still stretches of the coast I hadn't explored. The area east of Genova(Genoa), has a sprinkling of villages and towns that were quite appealing. We arrived mid-afternoon in the town of Rapallo, a small town set directly on the Mediterranean. Rapallo had quite a bit to offer; a promenade along the waterfront, sun drenched beaches, good restaurants, cafes, and vino bars only 5km away from the jewel of the Mediterranean, Portofino. The area is not only famous for its dramatic coastline but also for the invention of one of life's culinary pleasures. Pesto, the simple hand grinding of garlic, salt, basil, parmigiana, and olive oil into the tasty paste we all love so well. Some variations pound in pine nuts as well. My favorite pestos stick close to the original recipe.
Bottle of the Night: 2003 Sassocupo Chianti Classico Riserva. What a nice find. The week was spent drinking the local white wines but in a moment of weakness, I returned to the red side. Raspberries, cherries, and underripe strawberries along with a bright acidity made this wine a keeper. The flavors seemed nicely layered. The only drawback was the tannins were a bit harsh. It's probably one of those wines that will taste even better the next day.
Our first adventure, of this laid back segment of our journey, was to catch the ferry to Portofino. After a quick breakfast we were off. To some degree, learning a town's public transportation system is a challenge to me. It's usually a task, figuring out the subways, trains, buses, and water services. The pay off is independence and being in the position to rub elbows with the locals. I usually get it all figured out on the last day when it's no longer of any use. On this little journey, I was able to figure it out without a hitch. A bus, a transfer to the docks, and board a ferry boat. It was nice not having any transportation issues. The bus ride was a mere .50 Euro. The ride was so beautiful, I would have paid much more. Palm trees, ocean breezes, distant villas clinging to the mountain side, and the melodic voices of the passengers on the bus put me in a mood for Portifno. After we arrived at the dock in Margaretta , we had time for a quick bite to eat. When I am short on time but still want something more than a snack, I usually opt for a caprese salad. The fresh ingredients found in this area make them extra special. Caprese also pair nicely with many wines. I was adventurous and had prosecco. It was quite a nice pairing from my point of view. After a short wait for the ferry boat, we quickly made plans on getting the best seats in the house. Meandering our way, through the crowd of boarding senior citizen tour groups, we left them in the dust and found our way to the best seats. I assure you, I was a gentleman, as I pushed them out of my way. Leonardo Dicaprio would have been proud. I sat at the helm of the boat, hopefully there will be no titanic moments on this cruise.
One of the best things about the Italian Riviera, is its abundance of seafood. Shrimp, crabs, oysters, octopus, and fish are daily staples along the coast. The Lingurian coast also produces a nice white wine, Vermentino. These wines go great with seafood. Vermentinos are dry with a lemon-lime aroma and green apple on the palate. These wines are fairly low in alcohol, with crisp acidity and nice minerality. A nice pairing for the wine would be oysters with fresh-cut lemons.
The 15 minute boat ride to Portofino was simply beautiful. The well taken care of buildings rise gracefully from the emerald waters below. This has long been a stop for the world's rich, famous, and beautiful people and since I met at least one of those criteria, I fit in great. After leaving the ferry you are naturally drawn to the cafes, restaurants, and gelato shops that line the harbor. After finding an adult beverage we sat in a relaxed coma, people watching, yacht watching, and wallet watching, as Portofino is very expensive. We decided to hike trails above the village, a free activity, that was priceless. As you hike towards a church overlooking the harbor, the views become like pastel paintings, an almost surreal bursting of color and texture, all set against a backdrop of the blue skies and azure water. You soon understand why this little village is one of the most photographed places in the world. A picture post card opportunity at every bend on the path awaits you. There's also a quite cool art exhibit along one of the pathways. The art is scattered against the canvas that is Portofino, walking through the outdoor gallery was a great way to end the day.
The next few days was spent exploring the tiny seaside villages along the coast. Every village had a great story about it's history, great architectural finds, and that special Riviera culture. Even with all the similarities, each village had it's own special charm and unique Mediterranean views. In the town of Zaogli, while having a glass of vino at the local cafe, a commotion on the street arose. I'm not one to miss a chance to see Italy in motion. I went street-side and found myself front row in a qualifying triathlon. The speed the bikes were going was amazing! I was standing at the point in the race, where they had to change from biking to swimming, it was impressive as the began to take their bike shoes off, while still riding at a very fast pace. Hundreds of bike were in the race but there were no street closures. The race would intermingle with traffic, as the carabinieri(police) did their best to keep the bike riders safe. Through a series of hand signals and walkie talkies, the carabinieri would divert traffic or rush traffic through, as the packs of riders approached. This somehow worked, though many times an automobile would be racing to get to the roundabouts before the bikes made it there or pedestrians would barley get across the crosswalks before the bikes bared down on them. It was pretty exhilarating watching all this action unfold.
Bottle of the Night: The 2005 Blauburgunder Pinot Nero(Italian Pinot Noir). Tasting an Italian Pinot Noir was a new experience for me. I was pleasantly surprised. Grown in the cooler regions near the Swiss/Austrian border, the wine was very light with nice cherry and berry flavors with a bit of violet on the nose. Nothing complex in this wine but at 11 Euro it was a nice buy. From what I gather, Italian Pinot growers are stepping up their game. I guess time and terior will be the judge how they are received by the world market.
Italy is well known for it's hill towns. As you drive in Italy, you notice countless towns above the valleys , many that time has forgotten. There was a time when these out of the way, out of reach places, provided safety from enemies. In the past, I visited some of the more well-known hill towns but have always wondered about the lesser-known towns. The ones that sat high in the hills, off the beaten path and above the fog. Today we decided to explore a few. With nothing more than,”that town way up there”, Yeah, that one way, way up there looks interesting”, we began our hill town exploration.
After a 45 minute drive. The first town we spotted from the autostrade (Italian super fast highway) wasn't even on a map and from a distance, the town looked impossible to get to. I could readily see why placing these towns in such out-of-the-way, rough terrain was a deterrent for unwanted visitors. I was ready to turn around and I didn't even have to scale walls or face catapults. The closer we got to the town, the narrower and more curvy the roads became.
If a car approached from the other direction, we would have to find a wide part of roadway, and eck our way past the oncoming car. This wasn't always an easy task, when the edge of the road has very little, if any shoulder and was 1500 feet above the valley floor. We arrived at the town gates. The first thing that strikes you is, the quietness. The town was set amidst grape vines, orchards, and small vegetable gardens. The only way around these towns is on foot. The passage ways between the buildings were only 4-6 feet wide, at the most. As you meander through these passage ways and climb the stairs into the heart of the town, you began to realize that these towns are almost frozen in time. Many of the 800 year old walls were falling under their own weight. Your disposition becomes solemn and respectful as you get an intimate glimpse of this almost forgotten piece of Italy. Walking up through the town we only encountered 5 or 6 people. Mainly elderly townspeople sitting in the doorways of their homes, either sewing or taking afternoon naps.
After being fortunate enough to experience this glimpse of life, we decide to push on further up the hill, where we saw what looked to be a large town rising proudly above the mountain tops. Surely this town will have more inhabitants and maybe a place to have some bruschetta and a glass of vino. There were no restaurants or cafes to quench our thirst but I found something better. A bell tower with an open door! I made my way up the towers uneven stairs. The stairs had been worn smooth from years of use. I finally made my way up to the top of the tower. In the back of my mind, I thought, “This tower could actually fall over at any time”. I was tempted to pull the cords on the bell, after all, it was the top of the hour, shouldn't someone? I of course didn't. I wondered,” Who is keeping the tower? Maybe the open door was an invitation to walk up the stairs of time and ring the bell. Maybe it would bring joy to the towns folk?" By the looks of this town I'm guessing 1500 people may have populated it at one time. Today we saw no one. Other than the faint pounding of a distant hammer and the sound of snoring through an open window, there was only silence. Silence like that found in a sacred place. We respectfully walked the passage ways. Most of the homes had their doors and windows wide open.
The breeze would gently blow the curtains and you catch a glimpse of a set dinner table or pictures on the wall. The occasional aroma of tomato sauce would filter through the air and tempt your stomach. It was easy to imagine, that this once was a place full of life, kids, food, and family. Now there are only a few residents, many of them elderly. I wanted to be their grandson, to visit them, to brag about their cooking, to make sure the weren't lonely. These hidden hill towns work their way into your soul. Experiencing such an intimate view of life within the walls of these tiny towns, left me introspective and humbled.
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