A little bit of Fantasy.

The view of the Lovers Lane Tunnel.


A hallucinating sort of blue.


The bar where i spent my evenings.


Not such a good idea going down there now that i think about it.



Uphill to the church.


The eternal sunset.

A little bit of Fantasy.

The following excerpt was taken from one of my journal entries written while watching a glorious sunset over the Coast of Liguria from the village of Manarola in the UNESCO protected region of Cinque Terre.

" Imagine five little villages, so precariously perched on metres of sheer cliff, pulled relentlessly by the emerald blue green Mediterranean sea. This is the sort of place i am at right now, watching a spectacular performance of orange, red and pink. Such a scene is inhuman - so cruel for the way it ends so fast, and so beautiful that it is beyond human comprehension.

The train journey to these relatively-unknown-but-steadily-gaining-fame villages was quite a buildup. As the train ascended into the higher regions in between mountains (i knew this beacuse of the sudden strips of tunnels that we swerved in and out of as well as the frighteningly high bridges that connected the valleys) and past little streams, i realised how inaccessible the place was going to be. I admit that i felt a tinge of doubt. Just what if this place does not meet my expectations? I was also desperately waiting to see the sea, hoping that the train would choo choo along the coast, for it must, to get to the other villages. No such thing was to happen when i arrived at the first of the five villages, Riomaggiore, where i stayed. Instead, I got off in a dark and dingy tunnel, feeling completely vague and confused.

Then the vasteness of the sea hit me, as i walked out of the tunnel, smelling the salty air. The time was about 9 plus; the sun had just set leaving a trail of purple and blue. I was overlooking the most dramatic scenary I had ever seen; sheer cliff, valleys of olive terraces and the infinite horizon. Disbelief, I suppose, is the first reaction of a Singaporean living a cluttered life can feel at the sight of the immense space and openess ahead. After a long walk uphill to my very pleasant room, i went to the bar (very quickly becoming my favourite) that i spotted from the train station overlooking this scenary.

The next few days I did the activity that the five villages are most famous for: hike. A safe and well protected coatal footpath known as the Via dell Amore or Lovers Lane linked my village and Manarola and it continues on to Corniglia, Vernazza and then Monterosso. The total amount of hours spent walking - about 4 or 5 maximum. There were also stairways from the cliff going down towards the rocks where the brave and vain can walk then scale onto a suitably sized tanning rock. That said, it was the most beautiful walk I had ever taken in my entire life. Every moment had to be captured on camera; every moment was so beautiful. Besides the scenary, what struck me most pleasantly was the fact that it remains a true village, inhabitated by Italians who grow their own fruit, make their own wine and eat their own pesto. None of that touting or hawking nonsense, no cars even, just simple daily livelihood. In the afternoons, i love seeing the old people sitting on the sidewalks talking about their distant past, or gossipping away on nearby news. One of the days I hiked up to the highest point on Riomaggiore where there was a church, and i was surrounded by plots of lemon trees and grape vine plantations, terraced onto the sides of the mountain. So beautiful and rural.

The last few of the 7 days i spent in Cinque Terre, there was a sudden wash of waves onto the rocks. the ferry services were stopped and people were advised against swimming so I had time to sit on an inland rock and watch the relentless pounding. the sea is such a potent force of distraction. I felt heartbroken leaving this little crevice of harmony. I dont want it to change, i dont want the Americans to discover it, i want it to be just the way it is when i come back.

In fair Verona where we lay our scene

Excerpts from my journal on the way to Cinque Terre

The following excerpt was written in my journal on the train after I left Verona through the stretch of North Italy by train until i finally reached the Coast of Liguria where my destination was.

" Verona was as pretty as Venice, a sleepy sort of northern italian town with rolling green hills and cream coloured bridges that are overlooked by medieval monastries. The town boasts some fine roman architecture that few are aware of besides having the third biggest ancient colosseum in the world. Verona had taken me by surprise; it was much prettier than i had expected. the soothing atmosphere suited the place perfectly, the kind of place where you could hide under a tree and fall asleep, listening to leaves rustling and the whispers of time gone by. its too difficult to imagine the kind of turmoil described in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, but certainly the love. I climbed to the top of one of the castellos and was offered one of the finest views of Verona - so typically italian with the orange roofs, green trees and clear blue sky.

I am currently on the Italian regional train and i have just passed Parma, which bequested to us ham of the same name. I avow to try some pesto in Cinque Terre, supposedly the regional specialty. So far on this train journey I have passed some of the oldest and most important cities ever to have existed. Though the Lombardy and Piedmontese regions, there was Padua the oldest of the Renaissance university towns, foothold of some of the greatest Humanists and supposedly the oldest city in Northern Italy. And then there was Mantua, surrounded by 3 placid lakes, founded as early as 2000BC and birth place of Virgil, then later seat of the powerful Gonzaga family. i pass the nothern highlands through the Emilio-Romagna region i pass Bologna and Ferrara rumoured to be very pretty also with the exception of Modena where the expensive automobiles are manufactured. Its amazing how these people actually live with the medieval churches and houses, some actually residing in them.

I love train travel. Right now I am going in and out of tunnels through the Ligurian region, presumably under mountains. Sure, I see the streams and tons of mountains wihch are either the Apennines or Italian Alps and i am waiting eagerly for the suddenness of the sea to hit me. I am sure my train goes along the coast. the sun is setting and this scene is too beautiful for words- its too haunting with just these mountains, streams, houses and fortified castles.

Crumbling walls and Back alley canals.

yes, i did expect Venice to be a tourist trap and yes, i was also warned about the smell of dirt ridden canals in the summer. but i didnt think Lonely Planet would call it "mysterious and hauntingly beautiful" for no reason. my trip in Italy begun as i crossed my first bridge over a bright and white full moon. Venice by night was quite eerie and nothing i had experienced. No sound of cars whirring by or 24 hour mini marts, just old and dilapitated buildings, remnants from the 15th centuy or even earlier. I was too tired to be enchanted - i had missed my flight in the morning thanks to the bloody parisien traffic jam as parisiens were all rushing out of the city to go on their summer breaks. half of us in those cars must have missed our flights even though we left hours before hand.

i arrived at the hostel which was pleasingly near the campo santa magherita, the main hub of bars and restos. i realised i was living next to the university foscari. it was not until the next day did i realise that there was indeed a healthy population of young people living on the island, all studying here.

From the start I was prepared to be lost in Venice. its true that maps have their way of ceasing function and that for me, was the exciting thing about the city. I did the usual stuff, avoiding the queues (and pigeons) as much as I could but it was the Venice Biennale that first got me lost. Every part of venice had been transformed into a contemporary museum with only signs leading you to an obscure renaissance building or court and if you saw a poster with the Bienalle sign, you've wandered right. I managed to catch almost all the exhibits, except for the Singapore Pavillion which was closed. The thing i realised about Venice is that it was thriving with art. Many of the students i met were studying art or architecture , a position well exploited by the Universities there. But surprisingly this created a fresh edge over the blatantly Medieval and Renaissance feel of the city. Huge artsy wall posters could be found on slanted brick alleys with layers of history crumbling.

Venezia