The Cinque Terre

If anyone plans to visit the Cinque Terre, Italy's "secret" riviera between Genoa and Pisa, I highly suggest arriving on a bright, sunny day. It makes for a marvelous introduction to these five illustrious villages. It was a temperate 65 degrees when we began our train ride to the Cinque Terre. The sky was a nearly perfect cobalt blue, decorated with just enough wisps of white so that we couldn't say, "not a cloud in the sky," while keeping our integrity in tact. The sun was working overtime: it appeared to be blazing as if were a balmy day in July, not mid-November. Although, it is worth noting that the fiery rays came without the strangling heat that normally accompanies them.

Our moods matched the weather. This was possibly the most anticipated leg of our journey, and after the whirlwind that was Leonardo, we were already on a natural high, knowing that the distance between us and him was increasing exponentially by the moment. The weather remained constant for the entirety of our ride from Florence, but toward the end of the trip, we were enveloped by a dark tunnel that temporarily cut off our supply of sunlight. Several minutes later, and once our eyes had adjusted to the lack of natural light, we came careening out of the other side of a mountain and were instantly blinded by rays of light, even more fiery than before. Immediatly, we transposed ourselves to the opposite side of the train to survey the change in situation. We were now streaking dangerously across the edge of a seaside cliff, the blinding light a combination of the afternoon sun, perched perfectly at an angle where it could enter the windows of our train without reservation, and the reflection of it off of the poingently blue mediterranean. Never before had I been so drawn to actually stare directly at the sun. We were speechless. Just when we were able to focus our eyes on the sea, we were again engulfed by the darkness of a tunnel. The next twenty minutes we played a cruel game of cat and mouse, the ellusive sun toying with us all the way to our destination.***

Our destination was Vernazza, the fourth village in the Cinque Terre when headed northbound. Again without a host (there was a grand total of one couchsurfer between the five villages and he was somehow otherwise occupied), we set out to explore town and find a resting place for our packs. The first thing that was apparent to us upon unloading from the train was the lack of cars. There was only one road in Vernazza, and it was pedestrian only. Off of it, snaked several narrow and often steep cobblestone footpaths winding up into the surrounding hills, connecting the gelaterias and souvenier shops to the homes, "cameras" for rent, and eventually vineyards. At the end of the main street, which took all of four minutes to walk, we were met by crashing waves, so imposing that a rock wall had been built to subdue them. It began at a raised concrete terrace that during low tide remained mostly dry, and extended horizontally twenty meters into the sea, protecting the man-made cove. Here we found a wide assortment of people: there were college aged girls taking photo after photo of the crashing waves, local children chastizing thier pet dogs with the endless supply of soggy sticks that had washed ashore, a fellow backpacker writing in his journal, and a few hikers taking a break at the end of a strenuous day. We paused for a moment, taking in the scene, before making our way through the winding alleys to find our next temporary abode.

Up ten or fifteen steps between a shop that was closed for the season and a pizza counter, we found a sign reading, "CAMERA, ROOM, ZIMMER," or something to that effect. After ringing the bell, we heard a jostling above us and looked up. A woman appeared to be opening her shutters to hang her laundry to dry. She began speaking to us, asking in Italian if we needed a room. There, with us on the street, and her, three stories up, yelling out her window, we tried to settle on a fair price. What I'm sure was a good deal for the room she was offering, was too expensive for us, so we moved on, hoping not to offend her. This continued for the next 45 minutes: ringing the bell and haggling over a price via shouts from the second or third story window down to the level of the street and back. We finally found Elizabeta. She gave us the best price for a slightly smaller studio apartment than most were offering. Offer accepted and bags dropped, we headed out to explore.

We took a two minute train ride back the way we came, to Corniglia, the third town. Corniglia sits atop a cliff, the highest of the five villages. The train station alternately, is at sea level. The three hundred and sixty five stairs up to the town center are gradual but tiring for many. For those not up for the climb, a bus runs frequently between the station and the town center. In preparation for the five village hike, we opted for the stairs. The sun was dipping low by the time we reached the top, so we poked around town quickly before scouring the area for a spot to watch the sun set. We settled on a small patch of grass just over a gaurdrail into a vineyard. Afterwards we picked up ingredients for a picnic dinner and headed back to Vernazza, where we ate spicy soprasetta, pecorino romano, mixed local olives, fresh white anchovies with lemon and parsley, and a large piece of bread with a container of fresh pesto by the crashing waves. To help wash this delicious meal down we had a bottle of local Cinque Terre white wine. Before turning in for the night, we enjoyed one more glass of wine from the only bar in town. When I asked the friendly barkeep slash owner what time she closed, she couldn't give me a definite answer, "maybe 8:30.... but if you go for a walk and aren't finished, you can bring the glasses back tomorrow."

In the morning we awoke to grey skies and constant drizzle- not what we had anticipated for our hike. We had actually planned on being in the Cinque Terre the prior three days, but based on weather reports, switched it with Florence. We were pretty bummed, but decided to do what we could and make the best of it. This time we took the train back to the first town, Riomaggiore. The rain had more or less tapered off by the time we were there so we quickly hopped on the first of four hiking trails. The Via dell'Amore, or Path of Love, as it was named, turned out to not really be a hike, but more of a paved path from one town to the next. Despite the weather it was still beautiful, so we took our time. The next town was Manarola. This seemed to be slightly larger than the first, and we spent a little more time here, eating pesto foccaccia and chatting with a family from Indiana (or was it Iowa...) that we had seen yesterday on the train. Here, we noticed an interesting phenomenon: Rick Steves bonding. Actually, we first noted the ubiquity of "Rick Steves Italy," in just about every American traveler's hands that we came acorss, holding onto it like a bible. It was really amusing, though, when two of these travelers would run into each other, and then get instantly worked up over the fact that they were using the same travel guide. Sometimes they would just wave it at someone from a distance, and wait for a look of recognition and the jolly jig of excitement that would surely follow. Clearly, we are both fans of his as well, and may have even had a copy of "Europe Through the Back Door," on us as we observed these interactions, HOWEVER, we were not to about to go on about it in such a manner as to embarrass ourselves. Not surprisingly, this was not the last of Rick Steves in the Cinque Terre. Anyway, moving on to our hike... We had been forewarned that the second stretch was closed due to a mudslide, but were happy to hear that only a small section of it was actually roped off. We walked as far as we could, and could actually see the mudslide from where we were standing. It was pretty massive. The slide had not only wiped away a decent sized segment of the trail in its entirety, but also all of the vegetation from the top of the mountain down to the sea. Intrigued, we found a "secret" path that let us get even closer. We ended up hopping a fence and getting to be about 50 meters away before common sense told us not to push our luck. This path, though exciting, was actually just as easy as part one. Walking back to catch a train to Corniglia, eager to start on a more difficult and lengthy trail.

Because we had seen Corniglia the day before, we walked up the stairs and immediatly began our trek to Vernazza. We cut straight through town and followed signs to the far edge of town. The last sign before the trail started explained that until the railroad was built in the late 1800's, this was the only way to get between the villages. It was clear from the beginning that this would be more than just a nature walk. This trail followed the contours of the mountain, up and down, into crevices and over waterfalls, meandering through olive groves and wine vineyards, and even a few secluded homes (we actually went through someones archway, connecting their house to their garage). There were some long steep segments, but plenty of downhill action as well. We weren't actually gaining altitude to get to the next village. There were some amazing views of the Mediterranean, despite the clouds, but I'm sure it would be that much better in the sun. We will just have to return. Again, we were lucky to pack headlamps because this portion took longer than we anticipated, and by the time we made our final descent into Vernazza it was most definitely night. We cleaned up and then headed "into town"- about 45 stairs and another 30 steps- for some food. Vernazza is such a small town (population 600, and I am not forgetting a zero) that it would be impossible to not run into the same people over and over again. As we walked by the bar, the owner, who was chatting with a few friends out front, stopped a conversation she was having to wave to us and say , "hi." The family that we were chatting with in Manarola was eating dinner in the same restaurant, and we had also seen them on one of the trails. It's funny how in the Cinque Terre, even tourists are a tight-knit community. Dinner that night was again pesto-filled and delicious.

The hike on day three was probably the most challenging. We started early (for us), on the trail by ten. The weather that day was slightly better than the day before- clouds but thankfully no drizzle. I wore my bathing suit under my hiking clothes anyway, sure that today would be the day to swim in the Meditteranean. About halfway into our hike, a couple of Swedes whom we had met the day before caught up with us, and we ended up hiking most of the rest of that trail with them. The company that they worked for had recently merged with a French company, and as result they were living in France for a year. They had vowed to visit somewhere new every weekend they lived there, as so much more of Europe was accessible to them now. When we were about three quarters the way done with the hike, something amazing happened- the sun came out! The views that were beautiful before became stunning, and the warmth of the rays felt great. Looking up at the sky, we could tell that if we wanted to swim, we were on a tight schedule, the sun wouldn't last for too long. Reenergized, we picked up our speed and finished the last leg of the Cinque Terre as quickly as possible. The end of this turned out to be stairs- hundreds, maybe a thousand, stairs. It didn't bother us much, as we were headed down and feeling great (though hot and sweaty of course) due to the sun's recent appearance, but it did bother the hikers just starting out and heading in the opposite direction. We are VERY glad we hiked south to north. At last, Monterosso was in sight! We raced the sun to a vacant, pebbley beach with aqua blue water, dropped drawers (well, we were wearing bathing suits) and immediatly dove in. Amazing. Invigorating. Possibly the best moment of the trip - we were finally able to justify bringing our bathing suits, and we were able use them in the beautiful Mediterranean! It could only have been better if we were wrong about the weather and it stayed sunny all day, but as predicted, about two minutes after we jumped in, clouds settled in and stayed. This did not deter us from enjoying our own little beach for at least an hour or so and we stayed to snack on local clementines, apples, and some rolls we picked up at a bakery earlier that morning. For anyone else planning to do the entire hike, I would absolutly end with Monterosso. It is the only town with a real beach, and if you aren't ending with the stairs downhill, then you are starting with them UPHILL- not a fun introduction to the trail.

We spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know Monterosso and eventually getting an outlandish fine on the train for not having our railpasses on us (we are in the process of fighting it) and this derailed our day by a few hours. To brighten our moods, we decided to go out for dinner at a nice looking restaurant that we noted in Manorola the day before. While waiting for the train, we ran into Elizabeta and her husband, on their way to a nearby town to visit her sister. We started asking them about the local economy, and how long tourism has played such an important role it in. Without hesitation, Elizabeta told us 1995 is when it all changed. Someone named Rick Steves came to the town and wrote about it his travel guide about Italy. At this point her husband puts his hands together as if praying and looks up to the sky, letting out a cry of "Rick Steves!". We are not surprised by this, but we had been pretty curious to find out what everyone thought of this guy. It's good to know that they have embraced the changes in their community that they have seen take place so rapidly. Of course they don't speak for everyone, but the overall impression was definitely a positive one. As for our dinner, to start, Marisa enjoyed a nice wedge of Pecorino Romano and Andy, craving fresh seafood, opted for fried octopus. For the second course Marisa enjoyed a slice of pesto lasagna, and Andy stuck with the fish choosing a plate of mixed grilled fish which included more octopus, squid, swordfish, prawns, shrimp, and langostine (a smaller, lobster-like creature). It certainly did the trick and by the time we went home, we were relaxed and again soaking in every moment with pleasure. The next day we left the Cinque Terre for Rome (but not before running into Elizabeta and her husband one last time at the train station)!

***This paragraph was written while in the waiting room at a train station near the Amalfi Coast. It was us and a room full of homeless dudes, two of whom started beligerently fighting over a blanket right next to me. I was a little tense, and later we noted the strangely apocolyptic vibe that this paragraph had, but decided to keep it anyway, for posterity's sake.