"He enjoys true leisure who has time to improve his soul's estate"
-Henry David Thoreau
Apricale is an amazing Ligurian hilltown, clinging precariously to a narrow ridge like a mountain goat. Built circa 1100 AD, it’s a labyrinth of twisting, turning pedestrian “streets” made of fist-size stones (a slow and bumpy ride for the tiny wheels of our heavy suitcases).
Our little Casa Delle Damigiane has an entrance from the alley, then up the stairs to our “flat” with stone floors, stone walls and arched stone ceiling. The tiny wrought-iron railed balcony has a magnificent, dizzying view of the surrounding cascade of green hills. Looking up to the tippy top of the highest mountain is the slightly larger hill town of Perinaldo, where we’re renting another house next week. Plunging down into the river valley we can see and hear the river, complete with ancient arched stone bridge and waterfall. From our balcony, as in Villa Guardia, we watch the quick-flying, aptly named swifts as they swoop and dive for their dinner bugs in the evening. They’re small like bats, but with a sweet chirpy little voice, and if you try to watch just one it’s like following the lightening-fast moves of a quiddich game from Harry Potter, or a starfighter from Star Wars.
The cats in Apricale may possibly outnumber the people. They leap from rooftop to alleyway, spraying, fornicating and pooping with reckless abandon. (Jeff has subsequently renamed the town “Poopricale”). The dozen or so dogs in town make their presence known only when the church bells ring, when they howl with great feeling and vocal range.
One night, huddled around our tiny balcony table playing cards (teaching Jenna the subtleties of Rich Man Poor Man) we were surprised to hear the first tentative notes of an electric guitar…then a few pounds on a drum..then a whole band starting up. Turns out we’re the lucky neighbors of a metal (garage-type) band. A METAL band, whose musical talent is sorely lacking. It was a memorable experience to watch the honey evening light settle over this ancient hill town, serenaded by swifts, croaking frogs, and electric guitar.
We’ve spent the week exploring the area. One sunny afternoon we walked down a narrow dirt trail from Apricale to the valley floor to explore the river and the ancient bridge. We walked past ancient stone walls and an old “mill” with rusty water wheel. We stripped down and dunked into the cool, fresh river. We caught frogs and crawdads, and saw tiny trout, snakes and lizards.
On another day we took the bus into San Remo and rented old cruiser bicycles and rode along the 40k bike path that hugs the coastline all the way to San Lorenzo Al Mare (near Imperia). The path was not particularly crowded, and a few miles in, I apparently startled a large dozing snake that was sunning itself next to some bushes near the path. Not usually afraid of snakes, I want to emphasize that this was a particularly LARGE snake (diameter: zucchini) that whipped its whole rear half around, snakelike, which caused me to wildly swerve my bicycle and scream out “Ahggggg!”. Of course the snake disappeared back into the bushes by the time Jenna and some other riders caught up, so I basically looked like an idiot, but my heart was beating like mad.
-Henry David Thoreau
Apricale is an amazing Ligurian hilltown, clinging precariously to a narrow ridge like a mountain goat. Built circa 1100 AD, it’s a labyrinth of twisting, turning pedestrian “streets” made of fist-size stones (a slow and bumpy ride for the tiny wheels of our heavy suitcases).
Our little Casa Delle Damigiane has an entrance from the alley, then up the stairs to our “flat” with stone floors, stone walls and arched stone ceiling. The tiny wrought-iron railed balcony has a magnificent, dizzying view of the surrounding cascade of green hills. Looking up to the tippy top of the highest mountain is the slightly larger hill town of Perinaldo, where we’re renting another house next week. Plunging down into the river valley we can see and hear the river, complete with ancient arched stone bridge and waterfall. From our balcony, as in Villa Guardia, we watch the quick-flying, aptly named swifts as they swoop and dive for their dinner bugs in the evening. They’re small like bats, but with a sweet chirpy little voice, and if you try to watch just one it’s like following the lightening-fast moves of a quiddich game from Harry Potter, or a starfighter from Star Wars.
The cats in Apricale may possibly outnumber the people. They leap from rooftop to alleyway, spraying, fornicating and pooping with reckless abandon. (Jeff has subsequently renamed the town “Poopricale”). The dozen or so dogs in town make their presence known only when the church bells ring, when they howl with great feeling and vocal range.
One night, huddled around our tiny balcony table playing cards (teaching Jenna the subtleties of Rich Man Poor Man) we were surprised to hear the first tentative notes of an electric guitar…then a few pounds on a drum..then a whole band starting up. Turns out we’re the lucky neighbors of a metal (garage-type) band. A METAL band, whose musical talent is sorely lacking. It was a memorable experience to watch the honey evening light settle over this ancient hill town, serenaded by swifts, croaking frogs, and electric guitar.
We’ve spent the week exploring the area. One sunny afternoon we walked down a narrow dirt trail from Apricale to the valley floor to explore the river and the ancient bridge. We walked past ancient stone walls and an old “mill” with rusty water wheel. We stripped down and dunked into the cool, fresh river. We caught frogs and crawdads, and saw tiny trout, snakes and lizards.
On another day we took the bus into San Remo and rented old cruiser bicycles and rode along the 40k bike path that hugs the coastline all the way to San Lorenzo Al Mare (near Imperia). The path was not particularly crowded, and a few miles in, I apparently startled a large dozing snake that was sunning itself next to some bushes near the path. Not usually afraid of snakes, I want to emphasize that this was a particularly LARGE snake (diameter: zucchini) that whipped its whole rear half around, snakelike, which caused me to wildly swerve my bicycle and scream out “Ahggggg!”. Of course the snake disappeared back into the bushes by the time Jenna and some other riders caught up, so I basically looked like an idiot, but my heart was beating like mad.
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I'm loving your posts. I remember traveling in Italy years ago and was intrigued to see one of the "most use phrases" in my guidebook was "Excuse me there are cats in my room." I wish I could remember how I said it in Italian... I hadn't seen many cats in Siena where I spent most of the summer, but as soon as I arrived in Cinque Terre the usefulness of the phrase became very clear! Cats, cats everywhere.
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