RIOMAGGIORE, Italy -- Far from the spinning postcard racks, the camera-wielding tour groups, the blare of the train whistle and the lyrical background noise of everyday Italy - far from everything, but not too far - there is silence.

In this Mediterranean seaside village, one of five towns that make up Cinque Terre, the silence fills an alley so narrow you can touch both walls with outstretched hands. There is no one around, no birds or airplanes above, no white noise, no Vespa scooters with their ubiquitous rumble. It is a moment to stand, be still and absorb.

What looks to be another home at 84 Via Santa Antonio is, in fact, a church. It is a modest place of worship, the size of a small living room. It has a marble altar, checkerboard floors, two chandeliers, an organ and 16 wooden chairs - and four more in the cramped balcony. In the middle of this space stands a row of candles, some lit and some not, with a coin box asking for donations. Something, I'm not sure what, compels me to insert 40 euro cents and pray. I ask for safe travels (and a favorable exchange rate). This is a church you won't find in a travel guidebook. You stumble upon it after getting lost in a tangle of alleys as confusing to navigate as stairs in an Escher painting.

And yet, this method seems to be the best way to explore Cinque Terre: stumbling upon things.

Cinque Terre (pronounced CHEEN-kway TEHR-reh) is "five lands" perched upon a stretch of lush, terraced hills on Italy's western coastline halfway between Genoa and Pisa. It is a place of unrivaled beauty, a national park, a United Nations World Heritage Site.

On the southbound train that brought me from Genoa for a four-day visit in April, the shimmering Ligurian Sea was on the right while the five towns - the "lands" of Cinque Terre - appeared one after another on the left as pastel jumbles dotting the rolling slopes of green.

Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, Riomaggiore - each punctuated by the railroad tunnels in between.

I spent the first two days in Riomaggiore, then went to Vernazza for the next two. But you can base yourself anywhere and move between them as you wish by train, boat or hiking trails - only 7 miles separate the five villages. You just can't drive beyond Monterosso.

Roads as we know them don't exist here, and even the few residents with vehicles have to park their cars and motorbikes behind gates that separate the villages from the outside world. There aren't many museums here, either, but why should there be? The five villages are living museums of the Italian essence.

No matter what village you're in, you'll walk the narrow pedestrian ways among apartments, trattorias and olive-oil purveyors that could be no place else. Nearly all the buildings stand five stories tall, with green shutters and well-worn pastel facades of pink, yellow and orange. Time has faded the paint, leaving a rustic warmness behind.

Strolling down the passages of Vernazza one morning, I recall an Italian phrase: Il dolce far niente. The sweetness of doing nothing.

I walk and watch as women hold conversations four floors apart. Three elderly men sit on a bench - talking, laughing, people watching. Linens dry in the Mediterranean breeze; a few cats stray down the Via Roma. Every 15 minutes, the bells at the 700-year-old Church of Santa Margherita di Antiochia break the quiet with their toll.

The big news this morning is a wayward duck that had flown into the center of town and waddled into a clothing store. Minutes later, I see the owner walk out with the duck in her arms. The sweetness of nothing continued.

Yet, on this April day, everyone knows what's coming: summer - and the hordes of tourists. Last year, more than 2 million people visited this area that only 4,500 residents call home.

Cinque Terre has become both the victim and beneficiary of one man, Rick Steves, who did for these towns what Ernest Hemingway did for Pamplona, Spain.

Steves is the genteel, wildly successful travel guide writer credited with introducing Cinque Terre to American tourists in 1980 in his book Europe Through the Back Door.

Twenty-five years ago, there were just a handful of restaurants and lodging options here. The towns' industry was wine, with vineyards producing a strong dessert wine called sciacchetra.

By the early 1990s, non-Italian tourists - especially Germans and Americans - were arriving in Cinque Terre in droves. Monterosso received the first wave - with its beaches, intimate guest rooms and access from the Autostrade, it feels closest to a resort.

And so, the economic engine changed from agrarian to tourism. The younger generation who would have tended the vineyards now runs Internet cafes by the harbor. Many older residents sold their homes and retired into the hills. Today, about 40 percent of the housing in Cinque Terre is hotels, guest rooms and vacation homes.

The Rick Stevesification of Cinque Terre has produced two schools of thought: One laments a fragile cultural bubble burst by outsiders, the other praises the godsend of money that maintains the parks, restores hilltop terraces for agriculture and gives everyone a comfortable standard of living. The latter point of view by far outnumbers the former.

On another morning, still jet-lagged, I stumble into Il Pirata, a Sicilian pastry shop at the top of Vernazza. Twin brothers Massimo and Gianluca Cutropia serve me a croissant that's 30 seconds out of the oven, half with ricotta, the other half Nutella - that chocolate hazelnut spread. Massimo juices blood oranges into a glass. I eat ravenously, and notice a picture on the window of a smiling Rick Steves.

"You know what I do every morning? First I kiss my wife. Then I kiss Rick Steves," Massimo said, pointing to the photo. Ninety-nine percent of the travel books he sees, he said, are Steves' iconic blue-covered guides, clutched by white-knuckled Americans.

You can see them rolling their cart luggage into the Blue Marlin Bar, the watering hole in Vernazza where Americans seem to congregate. Young, hip rock music by bands such as Radiohead and Gorillaz plays from the speakers. The staff speaks impeccable English. What could be more appealing for us Yanks?

"When the train comes in, it's like an avalanche," said bartender Stefano Cato, 23, who hands me a plate of the town specialty, acciughe - fresh-caught anchovies with lemon juice and olive oil. "But for my generation, the tourism is a good thing."

One thing seems for sure. However many visitors crowd these narrow streets, Starbucks and McDonald's will not be coming to Cinque Terre. When McDonald's opened a restaurant last year in nearby La Spezia, there was much resistance. In Cinque Terre, there would be a revolt.

Next spring, progress will arrive in the form of a cable car taking visitors from Riomaggiore to the hill towns above. The way to alleviate overcrowding, a national park spokesman told me one day, is to take visitors to the Cinque Terre beyond the picturesque waterfront.

So on a misty and overcast Sunday, my last full day in Cinque Terre, I headed into the hills.

Hiking trails are one of Cinque Terre's main attractions. Most known to visitors is trail No. 2, a scenic route that stretches through all five towns with gasp-inducing sea views. Earlier I'd walked two segments - a precipitous two-hour portion from Monterosso to Vernazza and an easier 20-minute paved stretch from Manarola to Riomaggiore known as Via dell'Amore (the road of love). It was altogether challenging and relaxing, rugged and steady. This time I took a friend's suggestion to hike trail No. 8, unknown to most visitors, which begins in Vernazza and leads several miles up.

The climb, steep but smooth, passes a lonely cemetery ("They've got the best view in town," a town resident told me). Vernazza soon becomes a colorful speck below - from up here, the gorgeous towns look like collections of colorful wooden blocks about to tumble into the sea.

A mile up, the tiny towns on the hill emerge through the haze as if they were from another time. I came upon a church 1,150 feet above sea level - Santuario della Madonna di Reggio - that looks like something from a children's fable. It is peach and pink, with black and white horizontal stripes rising up the clock tower. Not a person was in sight.

I walked behind the church, found a bench near the bluff and stared into the sea. I looked left, at the clusters of pastel buildings speckling the hills.

Be still, I told myself, as I walked on.

Sometimes, the destination is unknown until you've arrived. I knew this was it. Because save the crunch underneath my shoes, all I heard was silence.

Kevin Pang writes for the Chicago Tribune.

IF YOU GO

GETTING THERE

Milan, Italy, is the best international gateway to Cinque Terre. From Milan's Central Station (Milano Centrale), it's a three-hour train ride to Monterosso for $30. Add another $10 for first-class comfort. Go to trenitalia.com for more information.

GETTING AROUND

Buy a Cinque Terre Card at the train station the minute you arrive. A three-day pass costs $12 (one day is $6), which covers unlimited train rides between the five villages.

LODGING

There are plenty of guest room-locating services -- to find one, step off the train and throw a rock in any direction. You'll also find residents soliciting their private rooms at the train station to arriving visitors. Look for ones advertising camere con bagno -- a room with a private bathroom. Know that many places accept only cash. Here are a few:

Locanda dalla Compagnia

-- A bare-bones but clean guest room at the top of town in Riomaggiore ($95 in peak season; dallacompagnia.it). Beware of steep walk to the rooms.)

Tonino Basso

-- This is where I stayed in Vernazza. Four immaculate rooms are rented out next to the post office -- great beds, sparkling bathroom, plus laptop computer with Internet access ($115 and up; toninobasso.com).

INFORMATION

Italian Government Tourist Office

-- 630 Fifth Ave., Suite 1565, New York 10011. 212-245-5618 or italiantourism.com.

Cinque Terre National Park

-- www.parconazionale5terre.it.

[KEVIN PANG]