Advertisement
Days 8 & 9 28th & 29th May Viverone (Nr Turin) – Levanto (Italian Riviera)
Day 8 28th May
When we woke up Viverone didn’t look quite as bad as the night before (although truth be told the campsite had not improved at all); the sun was shining, the lake was fringed with forest and the mountains rose up beyond the Aostan valley. We left for Turin airport hoping that their car parks didn’t have any height restrictions – silly us, of course they didn’t as all the double decker ski resort buses came down here – boys safely picked up we headed south towards Genoa.
My turn to drive – it was motorway so little risk of upsetting the locals. Nearing the Ligurian hills, the climbs, the descents, the snaking roads, Duncan took over. The lorry only seats three in the cab so the 3 boys sat in the front and I lounged in the back free from the shackles of THE MAP and supervising FANNY. Would the boys, map and FANNY be a better combination?
Genoa came into view, the sparkling blue Ligurian sea as its backdrop. It was a huge city which looked Moorish
rather than Italian, the motorway pushes its way through the upper suburbs and in between sound barriers gives you a glimpse of the glittering seaport. We peel off to drop down to the coast and approach Levanto.
Levanto is at the North end of the Cinque Terre, an Italian beach resort on what is called the Italian Riviera. Graced with a long sandy beach we had decided that this would be a good point from which to visit the Cinque Terre and take in some sun worshiping at the same time. We had rung ahead to le camping…would we be too high (yet again)? Marcos, the owner, wasn’t convinced that we would make it, his gate is 3.5m high but he told us to come anyway as ‘there were alternatives’. We wound our way through Levanto, putting our faith in FANNY…for one awful moment we thought we were in a car park but oh no, ye of little faith, it was just the way the weekending sun-worshipping Italians parked for their day on the beach! Through the old medieval town we went, slowly, when suddenly and surprisingly we found the campsite – a discreet gated entrance. We paused. Marcos
came out. We would be able to negotiate the entrance with inches to spare, BUT would we be able to negotiate the sharp left hand bend immediately after the gateway? In she went (by now surely, dear reader, you are not expecting anything else from El Piloto?).
Here we are in an olive grove (granted with lots of other campers) but it is great. We have vineyards behind us and a stream running next to us. We set up Camp Levanto – what a compound: 2 tents, the lorry and a gazebo. We light the barbeque, planned the next day, played Cluedo (F won) and had a great night’s rest.
Day 8 29th May
It’s a Sunday and the weekending Italians were out in force. The sun was shining, it was about 25 degrees in the shade, and we took to the beach. Being British (and pale of skin!) we had to have the shade of the expensive umbrellas – phew they know how to fleece you here in Italy – two umbrellas and four deckchairs later we are set up. We swim, we sunbathe, and the boys play boules while I people watch. What a sport –
the Italians en famille, the young lovers, the tourists, the Italian stallions (WHAT are they wearing?!) – all there for the viewing! F decides to be very British and proceeds to build a huge sandcastle on the shoreline – he builds his defences, he is convinced the tide will come in and wash it away but alas, there is little tide (after all it is really the Mediterranean). Nevertheless he causes much amusement with the Italians and is aided and abetted by the young whose parents look on in curiosity (but interestingly they don’t get down and help nor do they build their own for their children!).
In the afternoon we take a boat knowing that this would be the best way of viewing the coastline and The Cinque Terre. And indeed it was –
This chunk of coastline was described in medieval times as ‘the five lands’. In the feudal times this area was watched over by castles and these five communities built up in their protective shadows. The five little villages that make up the Cinque Terre are tucked into the coastline, they vary in size and attractiveness but all remain as true as they can
to the past – pastel shuttered houses clinging into the rock face, small harbours and pretty churches all surrounded by terraces of vines, olives, lemon trees and kitchen gardens. But the tourists abound; it must be awful in the height of the season. We choose the village of Manarola as the one to visit – many people do all five but two teenage boys and temperatures above 25 degrees meant that this wasn’t an option. We walked the village and up through the vineyards and lemon groves; it was a lesson in construction and irrigation – how do they do it!?
On returning to le camping we see that we have competition in the form of an ex military vehicle making its way from Germany down to Spain – it nearly kicks Big Bess into touch …but not quite.
We have one more day here in Levanto and then we head for Pisa, visit the leaning tower and put the boys back on the plane for blighty.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.103s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 7; qc: 48; dbt: 0.049s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Nellienoos
Ornella Hulbert
Che bravo, il pilota!!!
I think you need to start a fan club for your pilota!!! :-) In defence to our boys, I'd say those Italian Stallions are what we would call burino! (slightly chavvy) There are thankfully many men in Italy who would find what they wear to be almost offensive (and they do give the rest of the men a bad name!) And although, I have never put much thought into this, you are right, we were always left to make our own sandcastles! No adult help! I had a friend who was so good at making sand castles, he would reproduce whole medieval small towns, unsurprisingle he did go on to study architecture.