The famous Cinque Terre.
Five Italian villages on a rugged portion of coast along the Italian Riviera, some perched on rocky cliffs, and others seaside with small beaches. The area was declared a UNESCO world heritage site in 1997, protecting the towns and the adjacent marine area (see map link at left under Resources). All are filled with fisherman, craftsmen and tourists. And all are connected by train, road and a walking path. The path is called the Light Blue Trail, although the section from Riomaggiore to Manarola is also called the Lover’s Walk.
I checked out, stowed my suitcase at the rail station and took the 9 minute ride from La Spezia to Riomaggiore. Walked around (or should I say up and down) the town for a bit, then started the easy 30 minute walk to Manarola.
Walked along the lover’s walk, which had the name of appropriate ancient figures (cupid, eros) built into the rocks, along with several them-related statues, and declarations of love, as well as creative graffiti:
There was even a section with a lot of locks, just like on the lovers’ bridge in Paris:
Arrived in Manarola after climbing the final 383 steps, caught my breath and checked out the town; maneuvering amongst the winding alleyways with steep steps leading up or down.
I climbed up to a wonderful viewpoint, where I planted myself on the wall and looked out to sea and relaxed. Watched the fisherman who were working from the rocks:
And one of the many heading out in their small boats to try their luck:
Then I had to head to the train station, because the path between Manarola and Corniglia was blocked by a big rockslide. So, waited with all the other tourists (thought not too bad), and road the long, 4 minute train ride. Hopped out and wandered until I found the path:
And guess what, Matty? There were our same red and white markings as on our walking trails:
Do you think we could have walked here from Provence?
Kept up the slog – so dang hot and of course it’s the one day I dressed NOT for hiking when I went hiking. But surrendered to it and kept on moving up the rocky steps and back down again. A lot of people on the path, so easy to get shots of me along the way:
Finally make it into town and the view upon entering is magnificent:
Wander into town as I recuperate, and hear a hum that becomes louder as I get closer to the main street. Tourists!
Buzzing about like bees near the hive as they move through little tschotschke shops, walking with paper cones filled with fried seafood treats, poking them with long wooden sticks and popping them right into their hungry little mouths. I walk around, taking it all in, centered mostly around Piazzo del Marco, which is right on the little beach and filled with little trattorias, gelaterias and bars. I search out the restaurant I had researched and it was at the other end of town. Walked toward my goal (I’m pretty hungry), and happy that is is entirely away from the touristy area. Not so happy to discover that it is closed today. Head back to my second choice, right on the waterfront, and sit down for lunch. My view:
Even treat myself to a glass of wine – that’s how wild and crazy I am! Decide on the pasta with seafood, as recommended by the waiter:
Not too bad, but not the exquisite Italian meal I know is close at hand. After a relaxing meal, I head to the recommended gelateria just a few doors down:
It was so yummy and rich, Bunny, but no flavors with candy or anything mixed in. Just the real deal, straight up. Believe me, it was rich and intense enough not to need anything else!
Wandered through the streets so soak it up before leaving. Caught a few nice scenes:
Woman checking out restaurant aprons, drying high up on her balcony…
Working water wheel, discovered on my way to the closed restaurant at the other end of town:
Feeling mellow, I head back to the little train station and hang on the platform with everyone else until the train arrives about 45 minutes later. I buy a train ticket to Siena, climb on board, and two trains and 3 hours later I am sitting in a taxi headed for Frances Lodge.
As I exit the cab, I am greeted by Franco with a handshake and a welcome smile. He gives me a tour of the place, with the incredible view of the town of Siena from their impeccably manicured gardens with lemon trees all around, the smaller garden up front, the cozy and grand living room, the pool, and finally, my room, which is lovely (if you’d like a peek, go go franceslodge.it and check out the Adirondack room).
I shower quickly, and follow his directions to the bus to town for dinner. However, I make a turn for no apparent reason and there is no bus. I think that perhaps I will just walk to town (which I later realize would have been ridiculous because of the monumental climb up the hill which I wasn’t shod for), but stop in a little store that is just closing to ask about getting a taxi. The young woman and man say, through sign language mostly, that you have to call for a cab, but the young man is heading that way, would I like a ride. I say certainly, then when he goes for the car, I ask her if he’s trustworthy. “A very good boy” she says. He kindly drops me off in the exact great spot, after we’ve shared a little sign language and broken italian/english conversation. I wander through the busy streets (it is Saturday night) and feeling lost, ask for help, and I’m right where I need to be. Walk into Piazza del Camp, which is overpoweringly large square, surrounded on all 4 sides by incredibly high and imposing ancient buildings, one of which is the town hall. I walk past the crowds of people walking, sitting on the square floor itself (which is slanted every which way) and find the narrow street down which is the restaurant to which Franco has directed me. I have a nice dinner and catch a cab back home. Still awaiting the feast, but glad to have eaten well and comfortable in my bed for a long night’s sleep. Ciao!