Cinque Terre- following the footpath of love

Italy is the land where the Romance languages originated, and, as you can read in this week's Sunday travel section, romance still hangs heavy on many Italian places. Nowhere is this more true than along a particularly precipitous stretch of Italy's coastline I visited several years ago, the Costa Levante.

Along the left cuff of Italy's boot, east of the old port of Genoa, past perfect and pricey Portofino and the other bustling tourist towns of the Riveira di Levante, a range of the Apennines Mountains sweeps down and caresses a shoulder of the swirling Mediterranean known as the Ligurian Sea.

Seen from a sailboat tossing far out on the waves, this 2,000-foot-high wall of green seems too steep for human habitation. But as the boat moves in closer to land, occasional patches of pastel-painted straight lines and right angles begin to emerge along clefts at various intervals along the shore.

In Italian, means five lands (or villages), which is an accurate description for this 12-mile stretch of coastline.

Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore -- these five tiny towns may be pre-Roman in their origins, yet they existed for much of the last 1,500 years relatively isolated from the rest of Italy.

Hemmed in by the turbulent Mediterranean, shaped and protected by the contours of their land, the people of Cinque Terre fished the choppy waters and grew olives, grapes, tomatoes and grass-green basil on any flat surface they could carve or terrace from the stony slopes.

In those places where steady streams tumbled down from the heights through steep, tight valleys into the sea, tiny enclaves grew into warrens of slate-roofed, pastel-colored stone and stucco structures fronting narrow streets and walkways, all of which seem to lead down to the fishermen's chapel at the village's heart and its tiny harbor.

When they traveled away from their villages, these Cinque Terre residents either braved the choppy waters or walked the sentieri, narrow footpaths strung along the sea bluffs between them.

The landscape that kept these villages small also spared them many ravages of the medieval and modern worlds. In the 1930s, with an impressive display of Fascist can-do, Mussolini had a rail line punched through the mountainsides along the Cinque Terre all the way south to the port of La Spezia, linking the five villages. Even though they now had easy access to the outside world, Cinque Terre residents clung to their old ways, much as their farms and buildings clung to the hillsides.

Now, paved donkey-paths lead down from the heights to all five villages, but cars must be parked on the outskirts and large tour buses are prohibited.

Although the regular roar of the coastal train emerging from one of its many long tunnels still gets everyone's attention, time's passage in Cinque Terre is still marked by tides and church bells rather than the noxious ebb and flow of vehicular traffic.

The essential character of these villages remains much of another age, one removed from the hectic hustle of many of Italy's more tourist-packed places. There are other, less strenuous means of transportation, but the ancient footpath that wind over the steep coastal slopes between the five villages remain the best, and most romantic, way to get around.

Determined hikers can cover the entire length of coastline between the five villages in four or five hours, but what's the hurry? The Cinque Terre is a perfect place to toss hectic travel schedules to the wind and move no more or less than the spirit of the moment is inclined.

Many visitors initiate their exploration in Monterosso, having caught the morning train down from Genoa or Milan. The youngest and northernmost of the five villages, Monterosso is where most of Cinque Terre's larger hotels and modern restaurants can be found. From there, it is an easy two-hour stroll over the bluffs to the next town along the Via dell Agave, the narrow trail that unveils a string of high and magnificent views of the sea and the village of Vernazza.

Impossibly picturesque and with only one street, Vernazza is centered around its pocket harbor, where fishermen still drag their small boats up on the sand inside the breakwater, peddle their catch and drape their nets to dry in the sun. Outdoor tables at several small trattoria situated around the harbor are ideal places to savor the soft, Ligurian sunlight. Locals claim that pesto was invented in Cinque Terre. Sample a splendid antipasti di mare and plate of perfect basil pesto, followed by a glass of sciacchetra, the strong, sweet, local vintage, and that claim is very easy to believe.

After lunch, many visitors can perceive no good reason for further exploration. Although Vernazza lacks any real hotels, its back lanes are honeycombed with small pensione and rentable private rooms, many with windows and terraces that open on to drop-dead views of the sea and shoreline. Washed by basil breezes, Vernazza is a place where contentment is hard to avoid. Yet some travelers feel the need to press on.

Climbing the crumbling stone steps up through and out of Vernazza may be the most significant physical challenge on the 90-minute walk to Corniglia. Set on a stony crag over the water, this is the least changed of Cinque Terre's five villages and also the most labyrinthine. Finding the tiny church in its center, with its sky-blue frescoed ceiling requires considerable determination.

It takes another hour or two of leisurely walking along the wide trail that dips occasionally down to the water's edge to reach the two southern towns. Manarola is a picture-postcard kind of place, while Riomaggiore has a more work-a-day feel, with fleets of small boats huffing in its harbor.

Although it's the shortest stretch, this southern end of the trail is perhaps the best-known, the Via dell' Amore, "the lover's walk." Renovated recently, the paved path is fairly level, although it does cut across the faces of several daunting cliffs. One could easily hurry here, but the sidesteps that lead to the sunbathing rocks below are also very seductive.

Too many visitors pop in for a quick peek at the Cinque Terre and hurry on to Italy's more illustrious places. Others come to savor the scents and scenic splendors more slowly, spending a day on one section of the trail, and then catching a ferry or the train back to their room for the night. Others become so entranced by the seaside languor, they spend all their time in just one of the villages, lost in its leisurely pace.

That's understandable. In Cinque Terre, even the sun seems to have a way of moving more slowly.