Cinqueterre: Part 2

After twenty minutes in the line to get one-way tickets, we get in the correct line to get all-day tickets to and from and between Cinqueterre's 5 villages/towns.  Daniel is determined that we hike in Monterroso so we take the train there, the farthest of the five terra (each is only a 5 minute train ride from the next).  A German couple is hiking and they share with us that the trail is closed because of falling rocks.  Daniel is disappointed, the kids and I are thrilled, and Daniel relents and agrees to let us all go to the beach.

We're about to turn the corner onto the sand when the German couple returns and says, "The whole trail isn't closed, just the trailhead.  You can catch the trail over here up the street."

The kids complain.  One of them hurls invectives for about twenty straight minutes, tired and despondent and frustrated.  One runs ahead of all of us.  Two stick with me as we change our attitudes and actually enjoy the hike, letting go our desire for immediate beach.  Daniel walks with the German couple.  We go higher and higher, stopping and looking back at the sea and the other four towns (Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarolla, Riomaggiore).  We are past the tired and daunted stage and now feel energized and proud of ourselves.  The German couple lags behind, a bit slower than we are, then catches us (we go faster and then need many more breaks), passes us.  We laugh.  We try to beat the suggested time of the hike whenever we see a recommended time on a wooden sign.  (Are we so American?)

And then we're at the top.  And no one's complaining or crying any more.  From high up, we see blue sea and the coastline; we've actually done something today besides sit in the car (somehow the four hour drive becomes so many more for us)  and we look out at the water.  We lie on a rock while the kids explore structures and graffiti.

We take turns with an Irish couple for photos, and the kids run back down.  We adults, on the other hand, turn sideways to do steep steps, slowly descending.

Somehow, in a country with some of the best food in the world, we find ourselves struggling to find food: we walk to the restaurant Claudio recommended and they're closing (maybe because it's now 3pm).  We eat American style pizza in a piazza, change into bathing suits discreetly (we think), and go to the beach.  We hop on the train in Monterroso with a plan to pair two remaining towns with food.  (A Italian colleague told me today, Italians spend less money on clothing and more money on food.  Perhaps we're becoming more Italian?)

In Manarolla we eat gelato and watch teenagers jump off huge rocks in the sea.

In Riomaggiore we eat dinner and watch the sun set.  We get gelato again as we wait for the train.  (Daniel claims that he needs it for driving back to Viterbo.  The kids justify two in one day because we didn't find any in our town last night.  I eat it with no justification.)

Back in Spezia, we find the car and praise Daniel for beginning the three and a half hour drive at 9:30pm.

The three and a half hour drive takes one cappuccino, one espresso, one can of pringles, twenty-seven euros in tolls (oops -- we had heard that this route would have tolls...we hadn't asked how much the tolls were), and over five hours.

General consensus: super trip.  Kids want to get back to La Torba to the beach, return to Pisa to climb up the tower, go to Cinqueterre for a week to hike from town to town.

I'm still not sure where all the hours went and how our two days in Cinqueterre ended up being one full day.  And that's okay.  Someone once told me about listening to the music rather than the words.  That sentiment seems appropriate here -- the feeling is good.  (And I get a cappuccino the next morning to make it through the work day.)