Italy's Cinque Terre

---

071705

Leaving Paris... heading for Bath England.... but first, I went from Freidrichshafen Germany to Levanto Italy near the Cinque Terra on the Italian Riviera.

I remember the ride through Switzerland and Northern italy in the Alps went through a LOT of tunnels. Seemed to me half the route was spent in a tunnel. It's an interesting experience because you'll be looking out the window at one scene, and then everything goes black. Then seconds to minutes later, very abruptly, an entirely different scene pops into your eyeballs . I remember one time riding by a fun-fair (amusement rides) and then going black, only to see it again from much higher and further away. The train had circled the mountain in a tunnel on it's way up to the pass across the gap. I'm amazed at where the europeans have put trains. They have their faults, but laying tracks is not something one can criticize.

The campground in Levanto was packed with Italian tourists. This is the closest campground to Cinque Terra, which is a national park area now with some picturesque village towns sprinkled along the cliffs and beaches of the mediterrainian. This is a great place for some rather strenous hiking, and it has a nude beach tucked away in their as well. The towns are linked by an economical rail line, and it probably takes 40 minutes to go travel from Levanto down to the bottom most town, Riomaggiore. Spezia lies below the bottom town, but I never made it that far down.

The hike from the Rio up to the next town, Manarola, was an easy 40 minute hike along a maintained (engineered) path called the "Lover's Walk". It would be a romantic trek indeed, with splendid views of the towns from a distance and the rocky, jagged coast.

The Cinque Terra was packed wit American tourists. There are quaint hotels to stay in all towns, and a selecton of restaurants to dine in. Beware of the restaurant with the menu with the cartoon picture of the pirate on the back of it... they are pirates! I orded a beer and a sub type sandwich and it was a ripoff! I kept asking myself if I needed to send my buddy Sam over to Italy to show them how to make a sub sandwich? They're meager with whatever they put inside the loaf.

Just above the campground was the church with its' belltower. It went off on the hour and every quarter hour... ALL NIGHT LONG! I got used to it, but probably because I hiked myself to exhaustion everyday/night. They say they tried to quiet it at night a few years back but all the towns folk protested... so ring it does.

I saw all 5 towns and probably hiked three of the five routes plus the first day hike from Levanto to the top town. The route from the bottom town (Riomaggiore) to the next (Manarola) is an easy hike that anyone could enjoy.

Guvano Beach is the nude beach. You can get to it via a rigorous downhill goat trail from the trail between Corniglia and Vernazza. The nearest town to the goat trail appears to be Corniglia. The better way to get to the beach is to hop off the train at Corniglia and walk north toward the mountain wall. You then pass over the train tracks, and instead of following the pedestrian route up to town, follow the painted graffiti pointing the way to "Guvano". You end up walking down an alley to a gated abandoned train tunnel thru the mountain. Push the button for the gate an it'll screech open. You then hike thru a cool, dark tunnel for maybe a kilometer (1/2 mile). Pay the troll at the end €5 to hit the beach and then go enjoy yourself.

It's interesting being in the tunnel when a train comes through one of the other tunnels nearby. You can feel the pressurization in the tunnel as the train approaches, and then the vacuum as it exits. You can also hear the train, but its in a different tunnel probably 200ft away, so never see it. I don't know if the tunnels have passageways between them or if cracks in the mountain between tunnels accounts for the air pressure, but its an interesting experience.

Guvano beach is a comprised of rather large, dark pebbles. Actually, they're rounded, large sized, river stones (sizewize). Since they're mostly black, they get blazing hot in the July sun. Bring plenty of WATER. You will need it. The Mediterrainian is wondereful relief. You can just lay on the stones with the surf lapping over you for a good balance of heat-cool. Beware though! Occasionally tiny surf crabs may rise from their subterrainian surf-burrows to sample your supple, purulent, flesh... you just better hope its' your stomach or butt they sample!

My first night I ate a pizza at the campground restaurant. It was good and reasonable. Cinque Terra has some local wines and I almost always go with the house red (unless Montepulciano d'Abruzzo is on the wine list... I try everyone of these I ever see... but if listed, is usually the house red anyway!). This region has both red and white I recall, and I tried them both. Most days I'd picnic since that was the most affordable route and it offered me the flexibility to be hiker or a beach bum... I was plenty of both.

I splurged and fine dined one evening in Levanto in a restaurant near the campground. The Italians certainly know how to fine dine. I had a bottle of white wine, a fruits-de-mer starter that was a meal in itself, and then a pasta and pesto main dish, an apple crumble like dessert, an expresso and a bottle of sparkling water. Everything was excellent, but the fruits-de-mer experiment was the suprize. I wasn't sure about squid, mussels, anchovies and other things I've never heard of before, but they all tasted great! The anchovies weren't salty, and they squeeze lemon juice on them to moderate the strong flavor. The squid had a slightly rubbery texture but tasted somewhat like chicken. A couple of other things did too.

Two Italian women were dining next to me and though they didn't think they spoke english well, they'd occasionally give me hints on how to eat whatever I had put before me. This proved invaluable, and prevented me from making a gaff when ordering my final coffee beverage. The choices were cappucino or expresso. They were adamant; cappucino for breakfast only! Expresso after dinner. Expresso it was.

I also asked these two if they wanted to join me for a drink or coffee elsewhere because I wanted to ask them about one of their peers... an italian female journalist who had recently returned from Iraq after being kidnapped and held hostage by insurgents, and upon her release and subsequent exit to the airport, her car was fired upon by American soldiers killing her body guard and injuring others in the car. The last "official word" I had heard was that the italians maintained they were not overly hasty and had informed the americans of there route, and that the americans claimed that the car was unidentified and approaching a checkpoint at unreasonable speed. Officially, the Italians and Americans agreed to disagree over the circumstances. Lingering beneath the surface of these accounts of events are various conspiracy theories of whether the italian journalist was specifically targetted by american forces because she had damaging information regarding something about the occupation forces. I figured that these Italian women, being of the same age as the journalist and being somewhat independent women (out dining together), might be more informed on the matter from an Italian POV than I.

There were many diners, some american, in the outdoor patio area we were sitting at. I didn't want to speak aloud, because I really didn't want to bring up the subject of the Iraq war there. I felt somewhat uncomfortable, because I knew that most Italians were against it, and I didn't want to ask aloud. So I wrote a note, figuring that they could study it silently and either take me up on my offer or decline. I passed them the note, and they passed it back and forth between themselves asking me who had written the note, and overall, being somewhat confused by it. They proceeded to read it aloud to each other and asked for some clarifications. Finally the decided to bring the waitress over because her english was better. At this point everyone on the patio is aware of, and tuning into, the ruckus. The waitress and women chat back and forth in italian, occasionally asking me a question, and they finally say, "we think this topic is too complicated to discuss adequately with me with their level of english", and then in a more scornful tone, "we don't like this Iraq war"! Then they asked me how long I'd be in Levanto, and I told them I was leaving the next day. They said: "well, good luck."

The whole patio was quiet and to me, somber. Call me Killjoy. I was willing to take the risk of souring these two ladies evening out with mention of the war, because I truly wanted to know more about the journalist's POV, which I doubt we'll hear in the US press now that her immediate involvement is out of the headlines. But I did not want to poison the whole patio's vacation! I sulked for a few minutes and watched the women each pick up their respective cellphones and start text messaging into the ether in silence.

It was after this that they gave me the coffee recommendation, along with smiles and good cheer. Conversation on the patio eventually resumed to normal. The couple of minutes of pain, shame and discomfort had passed, thankfully. Upon departing, they wished me well. Their table was cleared and reset, and a younger italian couple sat down to their meal. We greeted each other. I watched them for awhile, and then I decided to go. I think the menu I had was ~€18, and the bottle of wine maybe €10.

After eating, I went down to the promenade and did what the Italians seem to like doing for socializing... I strolled the boardwalk. I was viewed with suspicion (stared at) by a few, probably because I was a solitary male. The other strollers were couples of various configurations or larger groups. It's great people watching sport, and the mild breeze whisking by while last hints of twilight give way to the stars makes for a pleasant evening. As I strolled home through the streets, most of the weathered wooden shutters were now closed, but you could hear the families chattering among themselves or occasionally, a TV set... then every quarter hour, the churchbell.

One last comment on Italy. It was my first encounter with what would become a more common sight... the "toilet" with only two foot pads and a hole in the ground... the squatters toilet. As a urinal, it's fine. I've never braved figuring out how to use it for the other necessity. The campgrounds in italy and france all had these, but fortunately for me, they all had the option we americans are more familiar with (thanks to that ingenious englishman from whom our modern day porceline throne gets one of its' common names... but I'm getting ahead of myself. I won't learn this name for several more weeks... after I wander around France, and then chunnel over for a rendevous near a Bath...) and that's a story for another day.

---

Photos

One of the five towns
One of the five towns.