I feel guilty and sorry writing this post.
Guilty, in that I got to visit this wonderful place
and that its one of my favorite places I've ever been.
And sorry, that it got partially destroyed hours after we left from the landslide and flash floods, and that others can't see it the way I did.
When they fix it someday, everyone should go.
Riomaggiore at Dusk
Andrew and I took the train to Riomaggiore (the southernmost of the 5 towns) from Venice on Saturday morning.
The long day of traveling and not eating had us really tired, so we were ready to put down our 80 pounds worth of luggage each.
We got off the train at Riomagggiore, and found ourselves at the base of the cliff‘s town.
We looked at each other, both praying that we didn't have to drag our huge suitcases up the hill.
Minutes later, we were pointed in the direction of the hostel that we were staying at
at the top of the hill.
We make it up, huffing and puffing and in shock that our hostel was such a strenuous hike up.
Just then, as I'm wiping the sweat off of my face, an old man comes hobbling down the street asking us in Italian where we were headed (more or less in actions than words).
It was obvious we didn't speak Italian, and he definitely didn't speak English.
The old man smiled though and started to shout at the building above. He held a bottle in his hand of who knows what, and he just kept hollering.
At this point, I was overtired and over hungry to the point that everything was entertaining.
We had no idea what he was saying or doing, and we both just stood there because the old man made it clear that we should hold still and wait, but we didn't know quite what for.
The hostel we reserved our spots at ended up being one of the old Italian man's apartments, and his son was waiting for us at the train station- at a much more manageable location on the mountainside.
Funny story- so we were emailing with "Simone", the manager of the hostel all week, and both Andrew and I had been emailing her about our strike problems and our new updated arrival plans.
As we were climbing up the hill the first time, we were expecting to see Simone behind a reception desk at our hostel. I had pictured her as a younger, dark, Italian woman who spoke great English from her e-mails.
Instead, we were greeted by a round, tall, rough-shaven, short-of-breath, middle aged man outside the apartment. He did speak English well though.
We spent the next few days trying to remember how to say his name like "Simon" or like "Simone".
Who knew?
Manarola- our first stop in the morning
Sunday, we hit the trails. We started out on the Via dell’Amore, towards Manarola,
It’s a paved trail towards the next town, known for its lover's locks and graffiti and the retired couples who want an easy stroll. It takes about fifteen minutes to get from one end to the other.
. We spent some time examining the fresh “love” graffiti- hearts and words drawn on the cliff and tunnel from the visitors past and checking out the locks and ribbons tied there. I say fresh because I'm pretty sure it gets painted over every few years- we couldn't find anything before 2008.
The locks along the trail are placed on the gates and the keys are thrown down the cliff- really pretty, also, pretty cheesy. Nevertheless, we enjoyed it.
It was a really nice start, but misleading as to what the other trails were like.
The White Tower across from San Lorenzo Church
We spent some time in Manarola, looking at the white tower and the church and admiring the pastel houses.
The trail between Manarola and Cornaglia was closed because of landslides, so we took the train. More walking, up the “Landrina”- a bunch of stairs, and checked out the church at the top of the hill.
We wanted to make it to all five towns that day, so we hurried over the next trail. This one was 1.5 hours winding though cliff sides of vineyards and orange trees, long but really sunny and nice. Can’t beat the scenery.
After a while, we saw our first glimpse of Vernazza- my favorite of the five.
I helped myself to my very first dish of gelato in Italy and Andrew found another pizza. We sat by the water and watched the fish for a while.
I still can’t get over how blue the water is.
Made our way to the next trail, more sun, more cliffs to climb and more vineyards. This one at our pace was pretty tiring. It was another two hours long. I was sooooo sweaty.
Vernazza!
The fish in the bay in Vernazza
Hiking the Trail
The Pebble Beach in Monterosso
Saint Francis of Assisi- the Patron Saint of Monterosso
Doria's Castle in Vernazza
Cinque Terre was my favorite place I’ve been to yet. The pastel houses and the hikes between the towns was a photographer’s dream. I don’t think I could have looked anywhere and it wouldn’t have been worthy of a picture.
Which is why its really sad that Tuesday, hours after we left, there was a huge landslide and flash floods on Vernazza and Monterosso. Several of the houses and businesses were destroyed, cars were turned upside down, and nine people died.
I feel really blessed that we were able to hike the towns with nice weather, and that we also got out safe.
A few others in our program planned on visiting the town later that week, and they either had to be rescued by the coast guard or re-routed to other places for the remaining days.
When the towns are restored, everyone I know has to see how beautiful it is.
Love always,
Kirsten
