Contemporary Italian culture has to be one of the most exclusive and sophisticated on the planet. Wander around a high end mall in the Far East, in Singapore, Shanghai or Tokyo, and in terms of European brands it's Italian ones that predominate - Bvlgari, Armarni, Gucci, et al. When footballers hit the big time it's a Ferrari they aspire to. Just today the Prime Minister's PR team strenuously denied that he'd sneaked off earlier in the month to a party thrown by the Russian billionaire Evgeny Lebedev at his palatial Umbrian hideaway. Since the days of 'la dolce vita' Italy has been a honeypot for the rich and powerful. However, beyond the glitzy veneer lies a more workaday, proletarian Italy, not upmarket, but with riches aplenty nonetheless; think pizza Margherita, Vespa, Lavazza, Prosecco. You still can live well here for relatively little, even in a tourist hotspot like the Cinque Terre. We set off this morning to prove this point; I think we nailed it.
It does help that even in disregarded places Italy can be disarmingly lovely. The gravel car park outside the remote campsite we are staying on is not exactly 'scenic', but then sunlight caught the umbrella pines across the valley just as slightly menacing thunderclouds bubbled up.
The mundane became extraordinary. I regarded this as a good omen.
The site runs an hourly minibus service to the station at Deiva Marina. From there it's about twenty minutes to Vernazza, the largest of the five famous villages along this spectacular coast. We had no big plans, simply catch a train late morning after a relaxed start, wander about a bit, then track down a couple of places we had found on-line that promised delicious but inexpensive food - that's what we like!
We wondered what the Cinque Terre might feel like given the circumstances. When we came here in 2015 Vernazza was packed, heaving with Americans, venerable cruise ship parties, snazzily attired French hikers and bewildered Chinese visitors, many sporting masks. Today it was still busy, the tourists were a less eclectic bunch, mainly Italian young couples and older people from Germany and Holland. The big difference was there were no Americans or Chinese, but almost everyone was wearing a mask.
This is a good thing. I think Italians are being very particular, not just about donning masks in public areas, but with social distancing and hygiene. More fastidious than in Germany or Switzerland in our experience.
We found the famous gelateria that had featured in a Gino d'Campo programme - it looked great, but really we needed a spot of lunch first so we carried on to Batti Batti Focacceria. Italian reviews on-line included a claim that the place served 'the best focaccia in Italy', could this be true?
We chose a vegetarian option and the much praised focaccia with mozzarella and pesto. The minor deity of the beauteous pie gift wrapped them carefully, then charged us a mere €5.00. We headed 50m down the road and plonked ourselves on the harbour wall to consume our takeaway feast.
Basically the place is pie heaven. Everything looked mouthwatering,
The vegetarian focaccia was lovely, it tasted wholesome and healthful. What can I say about the mozzarella and pesto one? How can anything so simple - bread, cheese, crushed basil - taste so delicious? It was sensational, an unforgettable experience. In the last post I wondered if the delicious should be accorded the same significance as the beautiful or sublime. If this was the case then we had just consumed a sublime pie.
We sat on the wall marvelling at how simple things could be so made memorable. It's a pretty spot. I took a liking to a rusty old ring on the quayside.
The fishing boats in the harbour....
The big parasols in the square..
It's a great place to linger, watch the world go by, people watch, while you digest something truly scrumptious. Now, gelato moment!.
When the place was showcased in a Gino d' Campo episode about Ligurian cuisine the owner asserted that he was inspired by the flavours of whatever was in season. Today figs seemed to be the headline act.
I went for the ricotta and fig flavour, Gill, less adventurous for once, opted for limone and straccietela.
They were delicious, again we found a nearby bench and watched the world go by as we consumed them.
Now we needed a coffee, so we wandered back up the hill towards the station and beyond it. It was quieter here, more space between the cafe tables, it felt safer than the busier streets by the harbour. We ordered two macchiata to complete our walkabout lunch. Why does an Italian coffee never taste as good outside of the country, even when served in an Italian restaurant elsewhere, made by a native Neopolitan? It's never the same. It's got to be the mind playing tricks, that ultimately things only taste authentically Italian because you are here.
Time to head back. Both times we have been to the Cinque Terre it's proved trickier to leave than arrive. It's a complicated timetable of intercity express trains, regional services, and the local tourist shuttle used mainly by hikers that. My suspicion is that as the day goes on the timetable falls apart, and by mid afternoon it's chaos. Still, we got back to Deiva Marina eventually and the campsite minibus arrived to collect us
There's a small supermarket next to the site. We managed to buy some mushrooms, pancetta and a bottle of local frizzante white to accompany the truffi pasta and pesto we bought earlier. Back at the van Gill conjured her tribute to Ligurian ingredients.
We ate outside. One by one the stars popped out, cicadas chirped quietly, the threatened thunderstorms never materialised. We chatted about this and that, the night was warm and the air soft. Even in these strange times life can be good we agreed. Tomorrow we are heading further south, through Tuscany. On Wednesday we're booked onto a ferry to Elba. At some point in the next day or two I need to have a swim. In my view you cannot say you have arrived in the Mediterranean unless you've jumped in.
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