Flavours of five lands

Vernazza is built on a rocky spur dominated by a watchtower

Of the five Cinque Terre villages dotted along Italy's west coastline, the least lovely is the one at which travellers from Genova arrive first: over-touristed and over-priced Monterosso Al Mare, thronging with lobster flesh swelling over Speedos.

But avert your gaze from these and other horrors, such as the concentration of "artisan" shops, garish hotels and rip-off restaurants, and it's possible to catch more than a glimpse of the medieval fishing village Monterosso once was.

The village is divided in two by San Cristofo Hill. The church of the Capuchin Fathers on the summit boasts a crucifixion attributed to van Dyck and fantastic views of the old town and the whole Cinque Terre coastline.

Vernazza was a Roman settlement and had huge strategic importance during the age of the Genovese Maritime Republic.

The village is built on a rocky spur dominated by a watch tower, the remains of the "castello".

If you miss the regular shuttle, it's a long hot walk from the railway station up the terraced mountainside to Corniglia.

After restoring the tissues with a cool drink on the Belvedere Terrace overlooking the sea, check out the Church of San Pietro (1334), a premier example of Gothic-Ligurian architecture.

It's a delight simply to wander the little streets and shady arcades, and dawdle over your pasta at an al fresco cafe in the leafy main square.

Manarola is built like a great wasp nest: all the houses form a solid mass, jammed into the rock, coloured ochre, terracotta and marigold, with green shutters, and industrial-sized bloomers strung like patriotic flags from every window.

The little cove, with its jumble of gaudily painted fishing boats, is an ideal swimming spot.

The local lads prove their manly prowess by leaping from the cliffs into the water that boils and froths around the rocks.

Church-building competition in the 14th century must have been fierce between parishes: San Lorenzo (1338) is another gem with a stunning rose window.

Riomaggiore is a short walk from Manarola, linked by the famous Via dell'Amore (Love's Way).

The twin marble doors set in the southern wall of San Giovanni Battista are older than the church itself, which was built in 1340.

As dusk falls, the day's fierce heat fades to a pleasant warmth radiating from old stone, the tourist hordes recede and the real villagers flow out on to the streets.

The public squares and arcades become communal living rooms, where children play, watched over by black-clad grandmothers.

Toothless old men, bent and gnarled like ancient olive trees after a lifetime's hard toil, bask on stone steps and watch the girls go by.

Young and old play chess and carry on voluble conversations with extravagant arm gestures that look like arguments but turn out to be merely polite chitchat, Italian-style.

From open windows you hear extended families laughing and squabbling over huge meals.

Cinque Terre must be tasted to be believed.

It's a gourmand's heaven where even a humble peasant/backpacker can dine like royalty.

On the vine-hung terrace of the youth hostel in Manarola, I ate melt-in-the-mouth gnocci in roasted walnut sauce, which was so rich I felt sick after a single mouthful, but so delicious that I pigged it all down and was only just able to stop myself from licking the plate.

Vineyards and olive groves are the life-blood of the economy and the table is the heart of the community.

The regional vin de table is a dry white, simply called Cinque Terre.

Sciacchetra - an intensely sweet vintage wine - is made from dried grapes. Redolent of peaches, apricots, Mediterranean herbs, it's the distillation of the very air of Cinque Terre.

However, its low yield means it has been hard for local winemakers to make a living from it.

The wine is being relaunched by the Slow Food movement and rebranded internationally in an effort to make it commercially viable.

Limoncino, a liqueur made from lemons, is also a regional speciality.

Its sunny yellow is emblematic of this stretch of coast, where the fruit is an object of almost religious veneration during the Feast of Lemons, celebrated at Pentecost, when village streets are decorated with complex patterns of fruit and flowers like inlaid mosaics.

Beautiful but transient, they are swept aside the next day by brisk broom-wielding matrons.

In Cinque Terre, the sentimental national character is tempered with flinty pragmatism - and that may be the saving of it.

- NZPA