February 2026. Camogli. Italy.
25 years ago we flew to Genoa, hired a car, and set off around the Ligurian coast towards the Cinque Terre looking for signs saying “Zimmer Frei” “Camera” to stay for the night. In a world before websites and Booking.com, turning up at 4pm with two toddlers without accommodation seems reckless in retrospect. A €30 room above a Rapallo cafe with a cot just about did the trick; good job Mumsnet wasn’t about then.
In 2025, 30 euros would barely buy you a cappucino and croissant in the Cinque Terre, not that you should drink cappucino in the afternoon, of course.
Mrs RM wanted a blog post on Ligurian picture postcard fishing villages on the cheap, and Camogli would do.
A half hour from Genova Principe on Trenitalia’s clean, cheap and spacious trains, with rain lashing against the coast, and two begraggled tourists looking for a picturesque lunch.
I’d set my heart on a cone of fried calamari and chips, but like most of Camogli the Frittura Marina was closed, whether for winter or Monday, who knows ?
Is Newlyn or Anstruther this quiet in February ?
Never mind, it’s barely 10 minutes from station to harbour,
a colourful (if wet) stroll,
and finally a choice of two eateries, one rather burger and chips, Vento Ariol a bit more promising.
I mean, it had a heron outside.
I know it’s a heron, Mrs RM asked ChatGPT.
More of that green pasta for me,
something more refined for Mrs RM, all high quality except the jazz version of Radiohead’s “Creep”.
Unfussy service in the only proper restaurant bothering to open on a winter Monday. There’s a lesson there.
I’m not sure what you actually do here, beyond eating, watching the waves crash and asking ChatGPT about heron behaviour, but what more do you want ?
retiredmartin 