Cinque Terre and Castle Life

A lot can change in a week and 7 days from hopping on a train to Genoa, I am sitting in a Tuscan castle where I will living and working amongst the vineyards. I feel alive being here, the castle is full of quirky rooms, a library and a beautiful little chapel just next to where I am living. It is set in a valley surrounded by vineyards, forests and a flowing river with waterfalls.

The last 7 days have been largely split between the incredible coastal village of Monterrosso and the walled city of Lucca. Monterrosso forms one of the five towns in the Cinque Terre national park which I had heard so much about  before coming to Italy. There is a stunning collection of walks joining the various places and the two days I spent walking along the ocean and through the vineyards were not enough for the pristine tranquility of the place to fully settle in.

If anybody remotely enjoys a good meander through the countryside then I would fully recommend making plans to visit this special area. I was fortunate to be living with some Italian friends who allowed me to settle into the Italian way of life. Focaccia bread is renowned in the areas around Genoa and breakfast was always something to look forward to with large varieties of this special bread on offer.

Being away from the noise of the city has allowed my kindle to make an appearance but this might be short lived considering I'm fortunate to be living amidst one of the most impressive book collections I have ever seen. Apart from the two storey library there are books in every room and once I finish my current book of Catch 22  I will go for an exploration to see what I can find.

Over the next month I will be integrating myself into the way of life here. Wine is a key aspect to living in the castle. I am writing this after a particularly brutal wine tasting session and combining this with unlimited glasses at lunch and at dinner you can begin to understand the daily volume you go through. Just as Boodles has forever changed my expectations of jewellery, after 2 days I am already fearing the almost certain probability of me being too aloof for the £2.49 bottle of Sainsbury's house wine when I return to England. It is exciting living in this place and there is so much waiting to be discovered throughout the next 5 weeks.

Brief Tuscan Memoirs

Sheer terror decends onto my face. The 500 stone beast bellows "un momento" to the waiting queue behind, in a deep American accent. The man has his fist plunged into an inconspicuous brown sack before releasing forth, like Arthur pulling the sword from the stone, some greasy goodness with the brand of the golden arches.

His obese offspring wait patiently. Unlike the chirping chicks tucked away in the nest, they know there is more than enough grub to go around. Within seconds their chubby fingers are clenched around their prey.

Satisfied that his children have had their fill, his gaze turns to me and then painfully shifts to the empty seat to my left. I say empty but it is currently providing the vital service of supporting my big shot, North Face rucksack. Such a bag would get so much more out of the juicy leather seat than the prowling 'bald with a moustache' American.

With one lengthy stride I know the game is up and I resign myself to my fate. I take one last gasp of fresh air and then join my bag on the seat next to me. Just 3 hours to go to Genoa...

This blog has been slightly neglected of late but all for good causes. I have been binging on a cultural feast through Rome, Siena and Florence. Interspersed with a delightful week isolated amongst the Tuscan planes.

Florence is a dream. It goes about its cultural dominance with a sophisticated swagger. A couple of nights ago I left our central appartment for a long walk through the pristine streets, bridges and piazzas. I wistfully walked by the locals at play. All of them beautifully dressed, talking beautifully, being beautiful. I know my place and I ventured on.

Even with my rose tinted glasses - watch out for the 3 euro sunglasses - there is an obligatory acceptance that Florence is a special place. I'm calling shot gun for my third year abroad.

Having been travelling for 24 days with the other 4, I am departing to see the chilled out coastal town of Monterroso. I am yet to have plans for past Sunday but I'm looking forward to the freedom. A presto

Alone on Vesuvius

The mist had fallen and the clouds had opened. Hard, powerful, intense rain slipped through our clothes and onto our skin. Vesuvius was releasing a gentle slipstream of smoke into the sky. We reached the top of the walk and looked firstly into the vast, depths of the crater and then out to Naples and the surrounding forests that resolutely clung to it's dangerous ally. Everyone else had left and the only thing that remained constant was the consistent hammering of the water.

I like these rare moments in life. A rare shattering of perspective through the everyday routine. Where you feel humbled and inspired. I wanted to record that moment and put it on the shelf to experience when I felt the urge to escape. 

We had been to Pompeii in the morning and it was easy to reflect on the juxtaposition between the lingering sentiment of death in the ruins and the vivacity and life that surrounded the volcano. Standing on the top was the most alive I had felt for a while and I just wanted to stay in that moment.

The next day the clothes had dried and Napoli was forcing itself through its winding streets once again. After briefly facing the knife in a Neapolitan barbers we were back on the train to the capital. Rome proved to be one of the most incredible places in the world.

Edgy Napoli

I came to Napoli with only a few prejudices; firstly the reputation of their hostile football fans and secondly the need to keep an extra keen eye on my wallet. But after a nervy journey finding the hostel I quickly become a huge fan of this quirky place full of passionate, strong characters.


The vespas tear through the city weaving through the crowds at ridiculous speeds. The pizzerias jostle at every corner and if you escape the tourist piazzas into the back streets you will find the restaurants running at factory like precision. We were pointed to 'Di Matteos', one of the top 5 pizzerias in the city according to the hostel owner, and found ourselves surrounded by Neapolitans and without a fellow Brit or American in sight. 

These places survive through word of mouth, otherwise no one blindly following their nose would wander into Di Mateos; It looked closed when we first walked past and only when we tentatively stepped inside were we gruffly pointed upstairs to discover a whole new world of food delight. Dozens of families tightly packed into 3 rooms all chomping down on humongous pizzas in routine fashion.

The pizzas range from 4 to 7 euros with the extra suicidal option to go for 'maxi' which is only recommended if you are trying to push for diabetes or to give added padding to your vespa waiting outside. Despite our best efforts at the cool, casual Neapolitan dress  (I wore an Australia tank top, flip flops and shorts), we all failed miserably and one waiter finally plucked up the courage to approach the Brits.  I ordered a Diavolo which translates to pepperoni but means devil in Italian. After making it clear that I couldn't handle the 'picante' version our pizzas arrived in  the purpose built pizza lift a short while later.

Unsurpringly the restaurant was packed for a reason and as Bjorn, an American traveller we met at the hostel, pointed out, sometimes the food here is so good here you want to cry. I didn't cry but I realised that my love for pizza has, despite many fond memories of post night out dominos, grown stronger.

Aside from this anecdote of a few short hours in Napoli, we have visted the ancient Greek ruins of Agrigento, climbed the smoky volcano of Mount Etna from Catania and endured a brutal overnight train flying through the south of Italy.

Rome now almost feels a bit too clean. I will miss Napoli, maybe one day I can wear the slightly aged black leather jacket and ostentatiously over-sized aviators and fit in with the cool, young Neapolitan crowd. Well, we can all dream.