Cinque Terre

May 16^th

My, my, my, Monterosso… you have out done yourself. Cinque Terre, especially the lovely town of Monterosso, has been an exceptional hostess. She greeted us with her twinkling teal coast, kept us warm with a blanket of sunny skies, and filled out bellies with her finest local feasts. Man I hope she invites us back again soon.

We both woke up at a time most people would probably consider sinfully early for vacation. We weighed our options knowing that this sleepy coastal village doesn’t wake up until 9am and we couldn’t get breakfast for a few more hours.  So we set out with our camera and walking shoes to greet the sun as it crept over the hillside. There is something so alluring about sunrise and sunset. We gravitate to those times of the day no matter where we are in the world.  This sunrise was special in that despite being in town, we got to experience it all to ourselves. In the entire 1 ½ - 2 hours we scoured around we saw only one other person- a silver haired woman sweeping the entry way of her seaside gelateria.

We wandered up the hill that stands between the old and new side of the village, enjoying sweeping views of both the city and the ocean as we made our way to the top.  Along the way we found a tiny church tucked neatly behind tall flora engulfed walls. Not too far above the church we discovered a disheveled brick staircase that led to a sprawling ocean-view cemetery. Immensely intrigued we eagerly   made our way up the steps to explore this sacred area. I surprised to see that the headstones weren’t all that old. Most dated back to the mid-late 19^th century and we found a few marble etchings from as recently as last November. A pile of crumbled headstones ripped from there perch along a wall was another solemn reminder of last October’s torrential storm.

Content with our early morning excursion we headed back down the hill for our next adventure: breakfast! Typically even if our hotel offers breakfast we choose to find a local café or restaurant in search of a more authentic dining experience. However thanks to online reviews we were very aware of the wonderful spread including homemade jam, local focaccia, and made to order cappuccino awaiting us back at the hotel. To kick it up a notch we took our treats, errr breakfast, to the rooftop terrace to be enjoyed. Ahhh, perfecto.

All hopped up on espresso we boarded the morning train to Riomaggore, the southern most of the 5 villages that make up Cinque Terre.  Our goal was to visit all 5 towns and enjoy a modest cup or cone of gelato in each. Oh ya, and to see the cool villages ‘n stuff too. I’m happy to report that we successfully met our lofty goal with a little room to spare for dinner. Not just any gelato would do either; we were quite discretionary when selecting the frozen delight that would take up valuable tummy space. In Riomaggorie we experienced the one and only subpar gelato that was clearly not homemade. It was somewhat clumpy and the texture was similar to an icee or sorbet, nothing like the creamy concoctions we were used to. Without hesitation we ditched our barely touched cones when we happened upon the gelateria endorsed by good ‘ol Rick Steves himself. After that mishap we were conscious to ensure that only gelaterie proclaiming they served Gelato Artigianale, meaning artisanal or homemade, made the cut. Lesson learned.

From Riomaggore we took the footpath to the next town, Manorola. The “hike” between to two towns is truly more of a laid back stroll along the coast. About halfway through the trail there was a little bar/café nestled into the cliff that was slanging ocean view espresso and cocktails for the weary traveler. Well of course we obliged. Suspended high over the Italian Riviera we sipped our drinks and tried our hardest to freeze time.

We spent a lot of time in Riomaggore wandering around and taking photos at the water’s edge. In order to visit all 5 towns we kicked up the pace slightly once we reached the neighboring town of Manorola. Manorola felt much quieter than Montorosso but had a plethora of little produce shops displaying their goodies along the cobbled streets. The main market area was smaller than the other towns but very, very cute. We only stopped to grab our gelato sample (for research purposes) and a slice of pizza for Marcus before heading to the next town, Corniglia. We started on the hike to Corniglia only to find that it was closed about ¼ of the way through. Come to find out only two of the trails between all 5 towns were open due to the storm damage. We were a little disappointed but the thought of kicking back on the train between each town wasn’t so bad either.

We quickly arrived by train to Corneglia, a town nestled high upon the coastal cliffs and known for its plentiful vineyards. There are two ways to get to the top: climb the 382 steps or ride a bus. We did neither of the two. We started up the road thinking it would be quicker than the steps and didn’t realize there was a bus until it zipped passed us on our walk. Oh well, a little exercise never hurts and we did get some great views looking over the vineyards into the sea below. Corniglia used to bottle its unique wine in very distinct bottles that signified that it was true Corniglia wine. This tradition is so long standing that these treasured bottles have even been found by archeologists in Pompeii. Unfortunately we didn’t find this nifty pieces of history ourselves but did buy some other uniquely shaped wine bottles while we were there.

On to Vernazza, a common favorite amongst previous travelers. It was also the town hit the hardest by the floods last fall, with Monterosso in close 2^nd. Stepping off the train it was impossible to ignore that the town was still badly beaten and bruised. Walking down the steps from the station into town we were met with a wall sized poster exhibiting photos of the town’s people cleaning up the mess the storm had left behind. Solemn faces stared back at us, dirt on their cheeks and shovels in their hands. The love that the people have for their town was overwhelming and poured out from every photo on that wall. It was incredibly touching to see the hard work and sacrifice the people who live there have made and continue to make in order to restore their once immaculate town. Like a diamond buried in a mine, I have no doubt they will continue to work until they unearth the sparkling beauty that lies beneath the rubble.

After a sobering walk through what remains of the humble town we spotted the first and only gelateria we saw in Vernazza.  It was here that we met the Gelato Nazi, much like the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. The impatient the man behind the counter was clearly irritated every single person who ordered before us.  From what we gathered he really wanted everyone to order a certain way or you got swift and rather rude “service.”  As counter got closer we became a little nervous. Finally up, we tried our best to order in his preferred method, whatever it was, and hurried away with our gelato before he changed his mind. Well I can see why he was so rude. With gelato like that people will keep coming back for more no matter how poorly you treat them. Venice still holds the number one spot for gelato so far but this little nugget in Vernazza is a VERY close runner up.

The rugged trail between Vernazza and Monterosso was the only other coastal trail open at this time. We started up the path but didn’t make it far. After talking to a few travelers on the trail that had just completed the trek we decided it could be cut from the itinerary for the day. It was nearing 7pm by the time we made it to the trail and other hikers were reporting it took them 2-3 hours to get between the towns. Add to that the bottles of wine we acquired in Corniglia that would have to accompany us on our trudge to town and it was a fairly easy decision to take the train instead. Now we have just one more reason to return, as if we needed any more.

Back in town and cleaned up we had dinner at Belvedere at the recommendation of the hotel receptionist. The restaurant has one of the best locations of them all, situated just a few yards from the beach. We sat at a scenic patio table and settled in to have a slow Italian style meal. If the rest of Italy treats our taste buds this well it’s going to be nearly impossible to ever leave. We both agree that our meal at Belvedere was one the absolute best meals we’ve ever had. The ringer? Believe it or not, the pesto pasta. Simple linguini pasta perfectly cooked and smothered in freshly married basil, olive oil, parmesan, and pine nuts. Marcus said he doesn’t even want to have pesto again because nothing will ever compare. I won’t commit to never eat pesto again but rather try to recreate it at home… and buy some to bring home of course; I’ll need a prototype to emulate. In addition to the unrivaled pesto pasta I had an unbelievable fish soup that in itself would be well worth another trip to Monterosso.

Aside from the top notch feast, we had a fun time at dinner guessing where the people around us were from. It involves a little eavesdropping and refined observational skill. I suck at it, especially after sharing a liter of wine (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it). We took bets and tried to either overhear where our neighboring diners were from or somehow work it into conversation so a winner could be crowned. For the young couple dressed in khakis with a polo and sun dress I bet Midwest and Marcus wagered East coast. He won, an embarrassing quote was born, and I’ll leave it at that. We laughed all the way back to our hotel at the fool I made of myself. Fat and happy, we will sleep well tonight as dreams of pesto dance through heads.