Wednesday Oct. 10: San Michele ⇒ Chiàvari ⇒ La Spezia |
Food & lodging notes |
Continued on our way towards La Spezia, driving through quite rugged mountain country on the way to the Ligurian coast (a branch of the Appenines). The hills reminded us of western Pennsylvania; there is heavy industry, oil, mining going on. We bypassed Genova (Genoa) and proceeded on the autostrada a ways further, until we got tired of being underground. The A12 here is inside tunnels more than it is in the open air. (An aside about tunnels: each one is named; the length of each one is given at its entrance. The longest tunnel along this stretch was 1808 meters, comfortably more than a mile. Each bridge is named too, and its length given. Why do I need to know this? Do you know how many bridges there are on a typical stretch of freeway? The signs amount to visual clutter. Still, it’s the right side to err on…)
We got off at Rapallo, a prosperous-looking beach town of about 30,000, and headed down SS1. The climate became increasingly Mediterranean (Californian); we began to see palms, cactus, agave, pampas grass, etc. We passed through several small resort towns (see footnote 4), pristine harbors, views to die for, etc., and stopped for lunch in Chiàvari. This is another mid-sized town with a nice feel to it. We had a large and pleasant, freshly prepared lunch for about $13 for two. This was an anomaly. Everything seemed to cost much more than we were expecting — the exchange rate at that time was dismal. (The guidebooks warned of this; one stressed that Liguria is particularly expensive.)
After lunch we had a walk around town during the dead time after noon. We saw the morning markets being broken down in the larger piazzas. These temporary daily markets are a feature of large towns as well as small — we saw them in Milano and Firenze as well as in La Spezia and Lucca. Housewives do their daily marketing here.
A ways after Chiàvari SS1 turns inland and up and the
driving turns into serious mountain switchbacks. (The road bypasses
the Cinque Terre.) We got used to the frequent fallen-rock signs
(caduta massi). Passed through a number of tiny towns, and
noticed that there was often a rather grand house just past the
“Leaving We descended abruptly into La Spezia, a dizzying switchback drop to the sea.
We found the hotel (Astoria) without
much ado. The maps in the
various guidebooks had varying degrees of
(lack of) detail; over time we got better at using especially the
Red Guide to zero in on a destination. The pattern we eventually
settled on was: Red for hotels and restaurant ideas; Bantam for
background and an up-to-date “flavor” of a place, and
sometimes for restaurant ideas; and the Blue Guides for culture,
history, and excruciating detail. And Harrison’s Italian Days
for deep background. Red is a gorgeously organized affair, and it
proved reliable for hotel recommendations (with only a single exception). We used the maps in all
the guidebooks, as well as ones we’d brought and others we
bought on the spot. Doing it again, I would stock up on Michelin
maps beforehand — cheaper, more up-to-date, and more
consistent than the ad-hoc way in which we managed.
The Astoria is located, according to Bantam, on a “quiet
side street; parking can be adventurous.” “Quiet”
may have been an overstatement; “adventurous” was not.
The first time I’ve ever parked on a sidewalk (it was not to
be the last). From our second-floor room, which had a narrow balcony
over the street, we heard the sounds of ping-pong from across the
street. The facing establishment turned out to be a recreation
center attached to a church and school. The bells of its clock tower
were a constant companion in La Spezia.
La Spezia is a young town. There is a naval base, a shipping
terminal, and a major railhead. Lots of young people. We ventured
out on foot in search of the post office, the information booth, and
a promising restaurant for dinner. This was our first experience of
the passeggiata, and an
overwhelming one it was. When we finally stumbled upon the strolling
center of this town, it was packed with people, mostly a mix of
twentysomething’s and families with babes in prams; against
this wall-to-wall torrent we struggled upstream. (We looked forward
with no great relish to a loud and restless night, as all of these
young people got drunk and “partied.” But no: this is
not America; that isn’t done here. They vanished like the dew,
most of them probably home to dinner.)
We didn’t find a restaurant during passeggiata, but
oriented by our walk and a map at the Astoria, we identified some
good places to look when we re-ventured out after 7:30. On our
second evening in the countryside, we were still learning how Italy
works as regards restaurants and hours of opening: almost all
restaurants had been closed and shuttered during passeggiata, so we
had tended not to notice them at all. In the end Alice found us a
perfect little trattoria, at which we had a lovely, simple, long,
and restful repast. Easy on the budget too.
This note is in keeping with other details we observed that spell
“home-oriented” for especially the women in the culture.
On our walk up the hill we saw three women returning from market,
laden with bags, to their homes in the fine residential section
above. We speculated that they certainly go to market every day,
perhaps several times a day. Between that and cooking and sewing,
there wouldn’t be time for a whole lot else… We found
numerous fabric and notions shops wherever we went.
In La Spezia we also came across a fabric shop selling the
peculiar fuzzy rope that inexplicably hangs in the doorways of
Ligurian shops. Many strands of the colorful stuff, an inch and a
half in diameter, are hung close together to define the doorway
space without blocking the flow of fresh air. The fabric shop also
sold lengths of plastic and glass beading used no doubt for the same
purpose.
Copyright © 1990 by Keith and Alice.
All rights reserved.
