Apparently I’m awful at this whole blogging thing, since I’ve gone nearly three weeks without a new post. If my previous attempts at journaling are any indication, this won’t be the first time I disappear off the face of the Interwebs. In my defense, I’ve been working like crazy on the new book and I’ve written nearly 180 NeoOffice pages in the past two weeks, so first the fantastic news: the first draft of Burning Dusk is done! I swore to myself that I wouldn’t open the document at all today, and so far I’ve been successful at keeping that promise. It still needs a lot of work, but the bones of the story have been laid out and that’s a great feeling, even if there are a few extra fingers and potentially no right foot. I’ll set it to rights soon, never fear.
But I digress; this is primarily a post about my day trip to Cinque Terre. Long story short, those towns are absolutely amazing, but they very nearly murdered me in the most beautiful way possible.
Cinque Terre, or “Five Lands,” is a stretch of the coast with five towns all connected by paths: Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore. There are some paths that go up into the hills and pass through other towns, but the coastal path is the most direct route, so that’s the one I decided to take. The plan was to walk all the way from the northernmost town to the bottom one over the course of two days.
I started in Monterosso. It seems to be mostly a beach town, and that water was ridiculously blue. Like, tropical blue. I went wandering for a bit and then found the beginning of the coastal path, which snaked around the cliffside. It looked easy, and I thought the entire thing would be like that. “No problem,” I thought, “I can walk like that all day.” It took about a quarter of a mile before the “coastal path” left the coast, never to be seen again. We totally went up into the hills, and it was insane. So many stairs. So, so many stairs. In a lot of places, even when it was a straight path, it was only about two feet across with nothing between you and the drop down the hillside. Don’t get me wrong, it was totally worth it for the views, but I will never be doing it again. By the time I got to the top and started to generally go downhill, I was the kind of exhausted that makes you nauseous and lightheaded even with frequent breaks and plenty of water. And lightheaded is one thing you can’t be, because the path is so narrow and rocky that if you’re not focused on your feet, there’s a real good chance that you’ll trip. If you’re in relatively good shape, then to you it’s probably just a brisk climb. To heavier individuals like myself, it’s thinly veiled heat exhaustion. Don’t underestimate the coastal path, because it can be brutal.
Now that my very long disclaimer is out of the way, I can say that the hike itself was gorgeous as long as you’re not afraid of heights. The views of the coast and the ocean are stunning, and the path takes you up through hillside vineyards and past little streams. As an aside, it is my sincere belief that the Italian people can grow anything. Turn them loose in the Sahara and give it five years, and they’ll be exporting world-class wines. They certainly succeeded in turning the ragged hillsides into lush gardens. In fact, it is so beautiful up there that the official name of the coastal path is Via dell’ Amore. Because nothing says “love” like dragging your insensible partner down from those ridiculous stairs.
Okay, okay. Now I’m done ragging on the coastal path.
The sight of Vernazza, the second city, was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. It’s considered the most charming of the cities by a lot of tourists, but I’ll admit that my love for it had everything to do with resting. That being said, it is an absolutely gorgeous town. I picked my way down to it with three goals in mind: more water, a bathroom, and a place to lie down. Thanks to chance I turned down a random street and found a cave built into the hillside. My curiosity was buzzing, but my legs were very nearly about to rebel, so I stretched out beside the entrance and lay down for about half an hour, honestly not giving a flying fart what I looked like. When my head wasn’t pounding quite so much, I went through the cave and found that it led to a secret beach! It was gorgeous, and I wished that I had brought my swimsuit. Instead I took my shoes off and stood in the cold water for a long time, just soaking it up. This beach in particular is rocks, so it’s a little more painful than sand, but so worth the experience. My mother would be very proud of me for not taking a rock from said beach, even though I really wanted to. Instead I took a piece of sea glass, which is an improvement, right?
I explored Vernazza for a bit, and then took the train to Corniglia because there was no way in hell I was getting back on that path—I mean, because the path was closed and that was the only reason I didn’t take it all the way. Seriously though, the only part of the coastal path that is currently open is the stretch between Monterosso and Vernazza because the cliffside is unstable. Oh, and be prepared to pay to use the path. Ironically, it cost €7.50 for the privilege of sweating on the hillsides and only about €1.10 to take the train between the towns. Yes, Life, you’re hilarious. Anyway, I didn’t see much of Corniglia because when I got there and saw that you had to climb a lot of stairs to reach the town, I promptly turned around and put my happy little ass right back on the train to Manarola. Sorry not sorry.
Manarola might have been my favorite town. It was gorgeous, with this great little harbor where you could swim, and part of the coastal path ran beside it so I got a great view as I ate takeaway pizza. Going up to Hostel 5 Terre was interesting because it was pretty high up, but thankfully it was an incline with no steps so I mostly survived. At the top was a church and a beautiful courtyard, and you could see the ocean easily. The sound of rushing water followed me all the way up, and when I looked down into a basement level I realized that there must be a bunch of sea caves running underneath the town, because I could see cascading water. When I reached the hostel, the wonderful girl at the front desk pointed me in the direction of the lift, and I almost hugged her, but that would probably have freaked her out just a bit. The dorm rooms were comfy and cheap, though the church bells were a bit loud.
The next morning I got up and took one more train to Riomaggiore. It might be the steepest of the towns, but the path I took happened to lead me to their main church, and when I walked along that road I had some stunning views of the town and the hills behind it. It’s sad to admit, but this adventure has made me mistrustful. Several times that morning I saw people climbing up staircases, and my first thought was always, “Is whatever’s up there worth the effort?” I know my mother has waited two decades for this to happen, but a good part of my climbing curiosity has been dispensed with. Anyway, Riomaggiore is split into two halves bisected by a cliff, so I followed the higher path around and descended into the second half, which wasn’t quite as dramatic. Riomaggiore probably had my favorite views out of all the towns.
In summary: Cinque Terre is a must-see. Apparently in high summer (July and August) it’s so packed that you can hardly move, so if you find yourself easily irritated by crowds or heat and you don’t intend to commit homicide on your vacation, you might want to give these months a pass. This is why I’ve recommended that my mother either visit me in the next two weeks, or wait until September.
Pasta kisses!
Kelsey
The Brave Little American 