I am finally free from the polluted clutches of Milan, and not a moment too soon. On a three-hour train ride escaping to the south, I find myself traveling past Genoa, and along the Ligurian coast. The station names sing an aria as I travel past: Rapallo, Moneglia, Montaretto, Bonassola, Monterosso, fa la la la.
Train time is a good opportunity to brush up on language. I take out my mini-reference to look up Italian words I have been meaning to acquire. My Jiffy pocket-size Italian phrase book, bound in yellow plastic, contains such essential vocabulary as “concussion”, “launch”, “ radiation therapy”, “referee” “condom” and “target”. Who writes these things, anyway? What sort of a holiday do they think I am hoping for? But nowhere in the Jiffy can I locate such insignificant vocabulary as “confirm”, “question”, “kind”, “helpful” “try” and “take”. As I never take a cell phone when I travel, I often have to wing it.
I am on my way to the Cinque Terre. It is a string of antique pearls – five small villages in a little nine-mile cluster clinging to the coastline that is the Italian Riviera. They lure me like the siren song of the Lorelei, to their colorful houses, their vineyard terraces, their Lilliputian harbors. Some have tiny beaches, others perch on rocky cliffs high above the sea. Most of the streets are actually stairs.
Originally these five towns were linked only by mule track and by boat. Now all are conveniently served by road, ferry and train. Most visitors come to walk the short cliff side paths that run between the villages, or the longer Sentiero Azzuro hiking trails with views high above the Ligurian Sea.
My train ducks into a tunnel at Monterosso, the northernmost of the five, and for the next 20 minutes or so, we travel inside and through the rocky edge of the earth, only emerging into the air for a quick pause at the miniature stations. My plan is to stay in Riomaggiore and meander to Monterosso, from south to north along the coastal path, a distance of only about eight miles.
Riomaggiore, the southernmost and most romantic of the five, perfect for couples, lovely harbor sunsets.
Manarola, with a tiny picturesque harbor and spectacular sea views.
Corniglia, on a promontory overlooking the sea, with terraced vineyards and olive groves, ideal for hikers and other nature lovers.
Vernazza, a charming village with a castle, a tiny port and even tinier beach, excellent seafood and bars
Monterosso, northern most, and largest of the Cinque Terre towns, with a long sandy beach, bars, hotels and restaurants.
One could walk the entire route in about six hours, taking only short breaks, but most walkers prefer to spread the route out over a few days at a strolling pace, stopping to explore the towns and even stay over along the way.
Today I am walking the Via Dell ‘Amore – Lovers’ Lane, which runs between Riomaggiore and Manarola. It is an easy thirty-five minute walk along the rocky cliff. I dawdle slowly along, admiring the view for about half an hour, entirely alone; no one passes me in either direction. Rounding a bend in the lane, nearly at my destination, I am abruptly stopped short by a tall, sturdy wire gate across the path. A locked gate. I stand here, looking at the six foot barrier, slightly vexed, wondering what to do, when a youngish couple come walking up behind me. They smile and nod at me and proceed to climb up and over the gate, springing down athletically on the other side like a matched pair of gazelles. I watch them continue on to Manarola, which I can see is right there in front of me less than a quarter of a mile away.
Now, I am of an age where climbing and jumping are usually not considered an option. I look back contemplating returning to where I started. Along come three young burly German men in shorts and sturdy hiking boots. They see my plight. Two of them climb up and jump solidly over the gate. The third one motions for me to start climbing. I wobble halfway up and he grabs me by the ass and lifts me all the way up. The other two catch me as I tumble awkwardly over the other side. “Um … well … ah … thank you,” I say. “Very kind.” The one most familiar with my lower anatomy says, “You are welcome. Maybe you can help me next time.” I can’t imagine holding his behind in my hands, but I’d definitely give it a try if presented with the opportunity.
The Cinque Terre is noted for its beauty, the rugged, steep landscape, the vibrantly painted homes, the carefully built terraces with cultivated grapes and olives overlooking the Mediterranean. I envisioned the breathtaking views of bijoux harbors surrounded by tropical vines, tiny havens for colorful fishing boats. But, as always, what we remember most is what happens unexpectedly, outside of the itinerary. That’s what makes for a memorable holiday.
Note 1 The Via dell’Amore between Manarola and Riomaggiore is often closed due to landslides. It is currently closed for that reason.
Note 2 Cinque Terre [ Chin’- kweh Ter’-eh ]
Note 3 for many more short stories of travel in Italy, go to the TRAVEL TALES section on the home page. Or click here TRAVEL TALES SECTION
Beautiful trip! And what a hilarious experience being hand-delivered over the gate by burly German tourists! Italy never fails to surprise a traveller with some bizarre snafu, and then an equally bizarre work-around!!
Delightful! And how fortunate to have those young men come along and see your plight!
Was the locked gate because of landslides?