All the way down the Mediterranean coast, geological mice have nibbled perfect concave shapes between irregular ribs of rocky cliffs & crags of a huge slab of cheese creating a grater of soft-sandy beaches against gently lapping turquoise waters, backed with shuttered bars & apartments, restaurants & holiday clubs – ghost towns in paradise in April.

Down below us, the beach of silver soft sand glistens in the sun, waving down those who overlook the sea from their newly fashioned villages & hamlets, their renovated villas or freshly built holiday homes, even the increasing number of compact being-constructed, summer estates or campuses that have spread throughout the foothills.

Briatico is shell with a few random cars, the odd lines of washing & a tired, semi-deserted supermercado indicating any human life for this time of year. In summer it must be heaving. Its one saving place is a patch of sand with a collection of fishing boats drawn up on the beach with some ramshackle sheds at one end & a ruin of a watchtower at the other, waiting for history’s Saracen invaders.

Below Tropea, numerous small villages, seemingly deserted in April, dot every cove. In the summer months they host Italian holidaymakers in particulard. Brave the skelter of a lane down to the beach at one such village, Ricadi, negotiate the resurfacing team with their huge lorries, their steaming, tar-laying machine & their creaking, beaping bulldozer who will stop for no man but just beckon you past on their freshly-laid tarmac, & find a beautiful, paradisicle beach of soft sand, eroded pools of volcanic rocks, backed by palms & luscious vegetation & a few empty, boarded up beach bars. In the far distance a few figures wander the empty sands or settle to appreciate the isolation.

Scilla was founded by Tyrrhennian Sea pirates around the 5th century BC. Swordfish boats still go out from sloped launchways to bring home their traditional catch to be cooked & served in the tourist restaurants that stand on covered platforms up to their knees in the sea.

This is the view from the terrace of our new abode, in southern Calabria with the town of Tropea on the high cliffs in the far distance. It overlooks the Mediterranean coast where wooded cliffs & crags separate crescents of soft sand all the way to the toes of Italy’s stilletoed foot. This part of Calabria bulges out into the sea in a huge big lump leaving the mountains a fair bit inland & the course of the main road & railway still driving southwards in a straight line well away from the coast. The fertile, soft valleys & sharpish ridges of these foothills are covered in a variety of textures & shades reflecting the fresh greens & colours of spring growth. The effect is a landscape of vibrant, freshness, highlighted by lilac wisteria & bright yellow gorse & laburnum and emphasised by shapes of grasping foliage & bubbling canopies. So different to other parts of Italy with quite an individual feel to it.

Built on high, perpendicular cliffs, Tropea was established to protect the harbour of a Roman trading port in the 1st century BC. It prospered during medieval times & became a cultural & intellectual centre developing its own character as a royal city-state. In the following centuries, noble palaces & villas were built here, many of which still have an impact on the skyline today.

Hard-faced facades of historic buildings merge seamlessly with orche-stoned cliffs, standing with such strength, & contrasting with the feminine beauty of the silver beach & turquoise, white-horsed surf below.

Behind the intrepid might of these power-blank facades, only penetrated by sets of muscle grabbing steps or occasional gaps of odd viewing platforms, a jumble of narrow, cobbled streets & attractive piazzas make up the historic centre of this fascinating town. Filled with cafes, restaurants, independent shops & classy boutiques it has a strong, attractive personality of its own.

It’s Sunday & a drive south. The coast & the railway are reassuringly present for much of the journey. On the left, the mountains, with their collections of human habitation scattered amongst the foothills, watch with interest as the moving traffic, on road & rail, head to their individual destinations. Where the mountains recede inland, creating more flat space, farms & smallholdings have appeared with fields of vines & maize, cultivated crops & plastic hot houses. At the side of the road, a number of grizzled farmers man shabby stalls with boxes of strawberries or broad beans for sale to passing trade.

So, the first thing to do when we reach Pizzo is find a parking space. A blue one requires payment at a meter. There follows 9 attempts to enter data on reg no & credit card which all result in being thrown out. Ah, Italians turn up….I stand back & watch. After 3 attempts they simply enter a €2 coin & get a ticket. A €2 coin mind you – not a credit card, not 2 x €1 coin. They stay & help. After 6 more goes – yayyyyyy – all purses have been searched & the coin found, it all slots through & yes …..a ticket for 2 hours is churned through to huge cheers from all 6 interested parties.

At the top of the main street into town the huge church doors are open to allow the sound of an angelic chorister to escape & fertilise the souls of parishioner.

Then down into Pizzo’s piazza. The town started life in the 13th century on a high cliff as a fishing village with a fort.

A Sunday in April allows the locals to emerge to do what they always do on the day of rest while a handful of tourists try unsuccessfully to dilute the authenticity of the place.

Midday is greeted with a cacophony of haphazardly rung bells from several churches which drown out the interactions within the ancient piazza. Locals & visitors then continue about their traditional Sunday business.

Us? Having wandered the streets we spy a corner pizza stall charging €1.50 a 🍕. We choose our elements & retire to a metal bench to consume the best slice of salami topped, pizza, ever.

Eat your heart out Pizza Express!

This runs all the way from Reggio Calabria in the south, up to Salerno & the Bay of Naples & beyond, a distance of at least 350 km. With the sea on one side & the cliffs & craggy foothills of the mountains on the other, this stretch of coastal lowland is only a few hundred metres wide for most of its journey north.

The road & the track run together, side by side, with the latter built on an embankment. At regular intervals minor roads veer through narrow, really narrow, tunnels under the tracks to reach the crowded holiday strip on the coast. Here clubs & bars, beach clubs, cheap hotels & low apartments are cluttered together, randomly placed to provide holiday pleasures along the entire route.

On the land side, the gods have sprinkled a stardust of recently built or renovated farmhouses, villas, homes, factories, barns, low apartments, amongst the contours of the green, surrounding foothills. A strip of a hamlet follows a bending lane, an odd steeple stands out in a clay-tiled cluster of a village, a shiny barn adds a further element to distant, neat rows of vines or olives.

Small towns & villages with any historic interest occupy high positions on a crag or a cliff edge, imposing power & importance over the low plain that borders the coastline below. It is a helter-skelter ride up to the cherry on the top with more climbing to & from any available parking & around the town or village….but well worth the effort. Most have an ancient, medieval centre if you have the patience & the legs to keep searching for it.

Cetraro & Belvedere di Marittino are two such towns with similar roots but very different in character. Both are high in the foothills above the coastal strip & require a steep walk from the car. Both have fascinating back streets, full of character & history & are rich in buildings dating back to medieval times.

The steep slalom up to Cetraro enters the market place which, despite a wonderful panorama front the redeveloped square is crazy with cars. Cafes are confined to pavements & groups of men hover in doorways or sit outside at tables talking ‘business?’. There are few women to soften the scene. It all feels a bit menacing. The old streets are tall & gloomy where no light can penetrate & the sun is an old enemy.

Bellvedere di Marittino also has a square but this is light & bright. Three town policia are present all the time, moving cars on & offering local advise. The cafe offers seats at tables on a small terrace & the surrounding buildings are attractive with ornamental trees & potted greenery to provide colous & diversity. The medieval back streets are clean & wide with grand houses incl four palaces & castle walls & a tower creating a very different atmosphere

It is good to see the different faces of Calabria.