Day 5 Europe Trip- Cinque Terre

Here is a map of the Cinque Terre. The towns are connected by road and rail, and more charmingly by a hiking path. Our plan was to hike from Vernazza to Monterosso, then train down to Riomaggiore and hike back up the coast to Vernazza. Signs posted along the trail measure distances in estimated hiking times, but I think it's about seven miles from Monterosso to Riomaggiore. Isn't that fun to say? 'Riomaggiore..'

Up early on Monday to attack the trail to Monterosso! Er, that is, we slept shamefully late, ate a hedonistic breakfast and ambled along, stopping as frequently as we possibly could. And with views like this one who wouldn't stop every 15-20 feet?

Here is Margaret, exhibiting her shapely legs on a set of old stone stair-steps.

Here is Greg, next to a sign.

There is almost no level ground on this portion of the Italian coast, so farmers have spent centuries building terraces along the hills and headlands. An official-looking placard at the Vernazza train station claims that there is as much stone in Cinque Terre terrace walls as in the entire Great Wall of China. An impressive statistic, though I'm glad I was not the one counting all the stones. Most of the terraces support grapes. I also saw apricots, berries, various herbs and assorted vegetables being grown. Here and there a patch of hard-won terrace ground has been given over to flowers, apparently out of sheer whimsy.

On final approach to Monterosso-al-Mare, hike destination #1. As you can see the coast is a collection of fractal-like headlands and coves, one right after the other. The train tracks do not 'follow' the serrated coastline per se, rather they plunge through a procession of tunnels, some of which are quite long. This makes a train ride along the Cirque Terre much less scenic than one might imagine.

Margaret at her ease with another of Italy's ubiquitous gelaterias. This is not the gelateria where the infamous pistachio gelato was purchased; that one is across the street. I don't blame the Italians for having so many gelaterias in their towns. If American ice-cream was as good as Italian gelato, I would insist on there being a gelateria on every corner here, too.

Margaret, looking surprisingly cheerful for someone who has just been robbed of a bowl of pistachio gelato.

At the Monterosso train station waiting for a ride back to the other end of the Cinque Terre. You have to be on your toes at Italian train stations, even the small ones. Signs are posted indicating which binario (platform) a train will arrive at/depart from, but this is constantly changing and PA announcements of changes are not given--or repeated--in English. So you have to listen intently to something like "bublabublabublabinariobublabubla" and then scramble to figure out the new binario before the train arrives...and leaves again. Since not all trains stop at all train stations, it is possible to get on a train going in the proper direction but wind up in Genoa or La Spezia instead. :-/

More of the impossibly lovely Ligurian coast.

A Roman-esque retaining wall between Riomaggiore and Manarola. This is the so-called "Via del Amore", or Path of Love. It, ah, seemed to work just fine for us!

Manarola. There are boats all over the place in this little village, parked along the harbor front and parallel-parked on both sides of the main street. I do not recall whether or not there are parking meters for boats in Manarola, but if not, it would be a good idea and someone should suggest it to the city council.

A distant view of the hill-top village of Corniglia. The storm clouds visible on the horizon foiled our plan to hike the rest of the way to Vernazza, sending us scrambling to Corniglia's train station instead.

Back in Vernazza, my poor attempt to impersonate James Dean is observed with disdain by a local resident, who, being Italian, and being a cat, possesses a style and savoire-faire I can only dream about.

Dinner the last night in Vernazza. The ladies behind us turned out to be a group of vacationing school-teachers from Salt Lake City. They volubly enjoyed their meal and each other's company, and gave us a hard time for being BYU alums.

More to come....