Cinque Terre

Our train was slightly late in getting us to Vernazza, the middle of the five towns comprising Cinque Terre and what would act as our home base for the next three days.  This really wasn't a big deal other than it meant we had to call ahead and let the gentleman we were renting our room from we would be later than expected, and that happened to work fine.

The sun was beginning to set the Mediterranean when we stepped off the train and purplish light met us as we walked down the short main road to where we would be staying.  It was a main road in purely the sense that it was the main road; to American ears this term invokes a road four times as wide as what we were now on.  Cars are not allowed in this town and really aren't necessary.  Shops and restaurants lined the way, the closing evening serving as a time of major activity, and after a walk of no longer than two football fields the street opened to the main square, overlooking the harbor where the sun had just begun to kiss the Mediterranean.

Our host met us in the main square and opened the doors leading up to our rooms.  After about three stories, the last one obtained via spiral staircase, we were brought to our lovely little room with a view of the sun and the Mediterranean in an ever more intimate embrace.  We quickly dropped off our bags and headed back down to take in the atmosphere.  Along the main street we passed a shop selling foccacia, so we bought some slices of various varieties and headed back out to the main street.

We happily munched on our Italian treat as the last rays skimmed the seas surface.  The main square has several restaurants with open air seating on them, and the lights of the city was more than substantial for the children to play by in the main street.  As we would soon learn, Cincque Terrre provides hills and trees galore, but precious few patches of flat ground for any sort of ball game.  For generations of children from Vernazza, the city square was probably the flattest piece of land they ever saw.

Alex did a great job on this vacation of mixing the architecture and feats of man with the natural beauty of Italy, and that is a feat.  It would be easy to go to Italy and see nothing but the bustle and activity of Rome and/or Florence, and that would be a great trip.  It would absolutely neglects the Dolomite mountains in the north, the beauty of the coast, and the acres and acres given over to scenic vineyards, olives, apples, and wheat.  It is absolutely stunning standing before the architecture manifesting the ideas and dreams of one man worked out by hundreds if not thousands of workers over the course of perhaps a hundred years.  It is another sensation to see the works of nature and contemplate the sovereignty of nature's God.

Cincque Terre is unique in that it is a middle point between those two extremes.  It is a natural landscape purposely and deliberately fashioned by man over a thousand years.  Without the use of modern equipment, peasants since before the fall of Rome spent their lives forming terraces to hold in place their vineyards and olive trees.  Without central planning, the lifework of untold generations merge to form uninterrupted walls holding in cubic kilometers of soil brought up steep cliffs from the sea on the backs of grandfathers and great-great grandfathers.

From a philosophical bent, I think back fondly on that site, a metaphor of sorts for what I want my life to look like and what I hope we as builders of the kingdom of God are producing.  Little will remain of my works physically, but look what a thousand years of effort produces!  May every day see me building up walls and caring for the sphere of influence God provides.

Anyway, we will see more of this in the coming posts.  For now, I'll leave you with the young travelers awaiting morning light and the adventures in store.  Omnia Vincit Amour.