You know you are in Italy when you find yourself sitting in a old pizzeria with iron lace windows and marble tabletops eating farinata (like pizza but better –  made with chickpea flour; warm and moist on the inside with a crunchy base) and the proprietor is singing O Sole Mio.

How did I get here? By a long train ride through the mountains from Switzerland via Milan and Genoa to my base, La Spezia, in Cinque Terre. The train from Zürich wound its way through the Alps and it seemed each curve of the track brought another spectacular panorama of snow-capped mountains and deep ravine-like valleys full of running rivers. Every now and then we entered a tunnel and suddenly exploded into the light again and another awe-inspiring outlook. I am glad I didn’t drive because I’d spend all my time staring at the view.

After a train change in Milan Central where I had twenty minutes to change the last of my Swiss francs back to Euros and find my next train – not easy in an enormous crowded platform –  I was on my way to La Spezia. I got chatting to a fellow passenger in English, Paola. I don’t speak Italian although you don’t need to sometimes because there is a lot of hand gestures and shrugs along with the voice to get an idea; sometimes you don’t even need words! Later, I watched an exchange take place between a husband and wife on the street. Their little girl had fallen over and because the husband was pushing the pram all he did was give his wife an annoyed look, shrug his shoulders, and open his hands to imply, “Look, you need to pick her up, not me.” No conversation took place.

I find out that Paola is a nurse and teaching student nurses at university. [This is a definite benefit of travelling alone. Apart from the fact that I will talk to anyone, I have found it easy to meet new people.] We laughed over the connection and immediate camaraderie based on similar experiences and nursing work life. Paola assisted me with finding a pensione – there were no hostels in town and it’s like a B&B but cheaper, and definitely cheaper than a hotel – right on the main street for €35 per night including breakfast with my own bathroom and double bedroom. Perfect. She was also helping another couple from the train, and when we exited the station the three of us were like ducklings following behind a mother duck, our suitcases click-clacking on the uneven footpath, with the sound ceasing when she stopped and recommencing when she started walking again. It was hilarious and I felt like I was  in a comedy skit.

The lovely proprietor of the pensione is a young woman who speaks perfect English. She gave me a town map, pointed out how to get around, what to see and where to go to, and recommended trying farinata and a beer for under €10. I do a reconnaissance mission admiring the stepped side streets and pretty coloured façades along the way, then find the restaurant tucked away in a tiny alleyway with buildings looking like they’re leaning in towards each other and the balconies will touch. The meal proves exactly what I need after a full day of train travel on a cool, first evening in Italy.

I didn’t have time to read any authors from Austria or Switzerland because my time there was too short, but I have five days in Italy and am looking forward to staying put for a little while after the hectic pace of the last few days. I choose a modern author, Paolo Giordano, who wrote The Solitude of Prime Numbers in 2009 which won Italy’s version of  The Man Booker Prize, and who also happens to be a PhD student of Physics. His fictional story follows two damaged people, how they meet, and whose lives entwine after a series of horrific incidents. It is fascinating reading and his eloquence is evocative and provocative. It is satisfying to be able to immerse myself in the world of his characters, despite some quite dark moments.

On a lighter note, I chose to visit Cinque Terre because pictures of this “Italian Riviera” seemed too unreal to be believed. I had to see for myself. Cinque Terre means Five Lands and refers to the five townships teetering on cliff points that are jutting out into the Mediterranean Ocean. On each side of the five lands are what’s locally known as the two doorways, Levanto (north) and Porto Venere (south), which act like bookends to a wonderfully colourful shelf filled with spectacular and breath-taking scenery. My base, La Spezia, is close by and is situated in the bay known as the Gulf of Poets whose beauty inspired Lord Byron among others, and whose name is poetic in itself.

There is a famous coastal walk linking the five townships but, due to the severe weather that the area experiences in the first days of my stay, it is too dangerous and is closed. The weather is rainy and stormy and also creates a mini tornado of which I was unaware, although I did witness a few intense water spouts forming over the sea one afternoon. This maelstrom whips up the ocean and cancels any ferry services, but I am able to catch a train to the townships from La Spezia.

The next day is stormy and rains non-stop so I chill out and absorb myself in reading, only venturing out when hunger calls. I find I rush it a bit sometimes with trying to see so much in the places I visit, so spending a day resting, reading and watching movies in the cold rainy weather is excellent medicine, a forced respite.

I was told it would only take one day to look at all the five lands and Levanto by hopping on and off the train. Porto Venere would have to wait as they have no train access. The following day the forecast says it is clearing so I set out for the first doorway, Levanto, though the sky is overcast with bulbous clouds. The train trip gives titillating glimpses of what is to come through tinted windows. It is a bit of a walk into the town from the train as the township fronts the beach. It is pretty but not like the ones I am looking for. Dark clouds are gathering.

Next is the first ‘land’, Monterosso. I emerge from the train station into a crush of tourists. I hear German and French and occasional American accents. This is a popular time of year for the area. Each tiny street is brimming and bursting with noise, bustle, and tourist groups following little flags or umbrellas. I cannot imagine how busy it would be in summer.

Monterosso has a wide sandy beach that is, according to pictures, filled with blue beach chairs in high season. The sand is enclosed by rocky outcrops with dramatic views up and down the coast. I escape the crowd, follow the curving path up along to the southern tip where there is a church and a small castle-like post overlooking the now inky skies and slate grey ocean.

As I reach the castle the downpour begins and I hurry to hide in the nearby tunnel for a few moments. All the villages are linked by the path, and people continue past me to the next village braving the heavy rain, but I decide to turn and go back to the train. In front of me the path is empty of tourists due to the sudden storm, so I am alone for a moment. I look out to sea and watch the clouds gathering. As I do a water spout appears from the cloud close to me, descending until it reaches the ocean and makes the water turbulent. It twirls for a few moments then disappears, reappearing a minute later elsewhere. I have no idea of distance and it is not until later that I realise that I witnessed a mini tornado and I was, unknowingly, within shouting distance of it. No one else sees it.

By the time I reach the next land, Vernazza, the rain has lessened and the sun is attempting to reappear. As I visit the five lands continuing to Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore, the sun comes out throwing into stark contrast the azure blue to almost teal ocean with the ochre and pastel coloured buildings. Like all the five lands, the villages are nestled in between the crags  of the cliffs clinging as if adhered to them. The photos speak for themselves and explain why I was drawn to visit this place.

I return to La Spezia, to do an evening walk around the port and marina area, with a dream fulfilled. Cinque Terre is jaw-dropping beautiful. But, as I am to discover, the best is yet to come.

The next day the weather is perfect and the ferries are running. My destination is Porto Venere, the second doorway.

The ferry leaves La Spezia, whose surrounding hills are covered with pretty homes down to the water’s edge, and rounds the corner of the bay. I spy the township of Porto Venere in the distance perched on a finger of land jutting into the sea and I understand why they suggest arriving by ferry, as you can appreciate the beauty of the panorama much better from the sea.

Porto Venere was a strategic position for approach to La Spezia and therefore comprises a fort and the ubiquitous church facing the ocean. It is spectacular to see the small port from the perspective of the boat and would have been an awe-inspiring sight in days gone by.

Once I alight (I got the first ferry to avoid the crowds) I make my way straight up to the fortress. There is some mystical sounding harp music emerging from within the castle grounds and I come across a busker playing lilting tunes – a perfect accompaniment to the mysterious and almost spiritual atmosphere of the church and castle. The scenery from up there is out-of-this-world.

After wandering back downhill through the town, relaxing with the Sunday vibe, I choose a pizza and beer to end. You have to have pizza when in Italy after all.

But my Italian experience is not over. I arrange to train it and fly out of Pisa, the nearest airport (whose wifi is the best so far on my trip!) I purposely leave a couple of hours before my flight in order to get to the tower, not really expecting much. The train passes mountains that have been quarried for marble, and then the factories where they are cut and polished for tiles and carving. I don’t know if Michelangelo lived near here (though Florence is not far and the ‘David’) but I think of his sculptures  chipped out of white marble and marvel at that ability.

I leave my luggage at Pisa’s Central train station. Later I catch a bus from there to the airport. I bus to the Leaning Tower of Pisa compound which includes a church and other religious buildings. You enter through an ancient portal and are confronted with enormous grassed areas which are now closed to the public, so people balance on the pedestals that are chaining off the grass getting friends to take photos of them ‘pushing’ the tower or doing selfies. It ends up being a highlight of my Italian trip, seeing this icon.

The actual tower or Torre is kind of tucked away behind the church. Its lean is impressive and throws me off when trying to take a picture. I wonder how long it can last at that angle of lean.

As I leave the compound it strikes me. The Tower itself looks like it’s a tall person leaning over, and peeking out from behind, the shorter church in front, while a selfie is taken.