Romancing Monterosso: A journey through Cinque Terre’s timeless charm

I sat on the worn stone steps of the trail leading to the Convento dei Cappuccini, just above Monterosso Al Mare, the quaint town in Liguria in northern Italy. The stones spoke of the footmarks of pilgrims, fishermen, and farmers, long before tourists like me left our own trail.

Below, the Ligurian Sea glimmered in the sun!

Hikers passed by me. Sneakers scraped against the rock; climbers moved with determination, while those descending wore a smile of content.

The hike was not easy. Not for me.

Two fellow travellers paused beside me and asked, “Why didn’t you go all the way up?”

The Ligurian Sea forms the ideal backdrop for the colourful buildings
along the coast. 

“I’m enjoying the view, observing,” I replied. “It feels like a place to sit down and write a few verses.”

“You are in the right place,” the lady added casually.

“Did you know Keats and Shelley were inspired by these waters?” she asked.

I did not.

The Romantic poets, I learnt, were drawn to these waters, just beyond the edge of the Gulf of Poets.

As I began my descent, I felt as though I was stepping back into the 19th century. While John Keats drew his last breath in Rome, his contemporary Percy Bysshe Shelley famously lived and sailed these very waters. The sudden insight that the English Romantics had looked upon these same waters changed my perspective. The Ligurian Sea turned turquoise now. I was looking deeper into the coastline. I felt poetry in motion.

Riomaggiore, one of the fishing villages that’s part of Cinque Terre. 

I had arrived in Monterosso Al Mare by ferry from La Spezia. As the boat pulled away from the harbour, I had leaned over the rail, skimming my fingers through the water. It was cool and sharp. Beneath the surface, silver fishes darted through the turquoise water. Acciughe? I wondered. The famous anchovies of the region?

Ageless beauty of Cinque Terre

Monterosso Al Mare is one of the five ancient fishing villages of Cinque Terre (Five Lands). The villages are located on the Italian Riviera, south of Genoa, in northwest Italy. The five villages Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso Al Mare cling to the cliffs of Northern Italy with ageless grace. Cinque Terre was picture perfect to me.

From the ferry, the houses looked stacked tightly, painted in ochres, pinks, and faded reds. Narrow paths and stone stairways hemmed the villages together. People have lived here for over a thousand years, geographical barriers notwithstanding. The land is steep and rocky. Generations carved thousands of terraces into the hillsides by hand, I have heard. Dry stone walls which were built without mortar, support vineyards, olive trees, and lemon groves. Churches, watchtowers, and winding footpaths stood witness to lives shaped by weather and tides, not to forget the hard labour of the villagers. Cinque Terre is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, a unique example of harmony between people and landscape.

The famed clock tower at Monterosso Al Mare. 

A splash of water woke me up from my reverie. The ferry was stopping briefly at each village. Riomaggiore appeared first. Manarola followed, postcard-perfect, Corniglia hovered above the sea, while Vernazza seemed emerging from the water. At every harbour, passengers stepped on and off the ferry, excitement ringing through their voices. “Are we there yet?” I kept asking myself.

And then came Monterosso

Monterosso came last. A long sandy beach stretched out, with striped umbrellas and pastel buildings. Narrow streets led to bakeries, wine shops, and small stores selling linen, lemon soap, anchovies packed in oil, and stacked with postcards.

Above it all rose the Convento dei Cappuccini, founded in the early 17th century. Within the church hangs a crucifixion attributed to Van Dyck. Outside, a statue of St Francis of Assisi with a wolf towered over the Ligurian Sea. From the trail near the monastery, the Ligurian Sea stretches in blues and greens. Standing there, it was easy to understand how poets once paused and found words rising uninterrupted.

Shelley sailed these waters. Keats never quite reached Monterosso Al Mare, yet the place feels aligned with his final months in Italy. He died in Rome.

Back in town, I wandered through cobbled streets, watching shoppers bargain and locals chat aloud.

The old and the modern

The town is a tale of two halves: the modern Fegina and the Old Town, separated by a tunnel.

Back in the narrow streets of the Old Town, I found the Church of San Giovanni Battista. Built between the 13th and 14th centuries, its facade is a striking example of Genoese Gothic architecture, striped with alternating layers of white marble and dark green serpentine.

The Torre dell’Orologio or clock tower rises over the old square, offering a glimpse of Monterosso’s medieval past.

Along the coast, the Aurora Tower, a 16th‑century watchtower, guarded against pirate raids.

Aroma of food

For centuries, the village was sustained by fishing, especially anchovies, salted and preserved.

The aroma of food drifted through the air. Olive oil, garlic, citrus. History lingered in the menus and markets. I found myself in a crowded, yet cosy restaurant. Lunch was perfect: anchovies laid over bruschetta, brightened with lemon and olive oil, paired with a cold lemon drink.

Later, walking toward Monterosso Al Mare railway station, I walked past beachgoers, shopkeepers, and stone walls. The sun was at its peak, but its warmth felt gentle. 

As I waited for the train at Monterosso station, I thought again of the ferry rail, the cold water on my fingers, the silver fish prancing beneath the surface.

Having grown up with the sea in my backyard, Monterosso Al Mare reminded me of what I have always known: when you meet the water, pause and reflect. Some lessons don’t change; they simply deepen.