July 10th is my roommate Wendy's birthday. And if you're half-fish as she is, you want to be in water 24/7. Enter the 36 hour trip to Cinque Terre. The timing could definitely have been better - eight hours off a study trip and with a paper due the next week. But a beach weekend is a beach weekend after all, and the four of us were excited to experience Cinque Terre for the first time, especially as we got the last quad room left in Vernazza.
Wendy got our car upgraded for free, Emily brought still-warm pastries, I loaded Google map directions on my iTouch, and we were off by 10:30am. Apart from the snarl of traffic through Genova, we were making excellent time. And then Google maps gave us some rather strange directions. Next thing we knew, we were on a one lane road in Pignone (or Pinenut as Wendy dubbed it). Many cheers were heard when we discovered the right road, only to descend into white-knuckled silence when the road to Vernazza became a one lane road hugging sheer cliff edges. It was with great thanks when Wendy deposited Emily and me to wait with the bags at the pedestrian border to town, and took the car and Crystal back up to park. Apparently, they had quite the adventure when the rental car bumper got attached to the cliff edge and decided to stay despite the car wanting to leave. Emily and I were somewhat guiltily sipping strawberry smoothies instead at
Il Pirate and learning that we had actually entered Rick Steves World instead of Vernazza.
Vernazza is a beautiful town spilling down the steep hillside to a sandy beach flanked by cliffs, clock towers and a piazza of jewel-toned, shuttered buildings. It has a veritable rabbit-warren of twisting streets and quirky nooks and stairs. It also holds the dubious distinction of being the first Italian town I've visited where I've heard not one word of Italian spoken. Instead, the ears were bombarded with drawling American tones. Every business had postcards and laminated reviews with Rick Steves emblazoned everywhere, and every business we entered with any affiliation with him whatsoever broadcast that fact repeatedly. Even the owner of Egi Rooms where we stayed used Rick Steves' stamp of approval as a belligerent shield when we questioned the wisdom of the fan in our 40° room that didn't fit in any plug, and the barely more than twin bed to sleep two tall women who aren't romantically involved.
Enter
Italian Cultural Observation #3. 'I can't promise anything' means a) I have no intention of lifting a finger to help you, or b) maybe I can find an adaptor for the fan, or maybe the gods will strike me down before I can accomplish this task. Either way, you have no hope in hell of getting what you want anytime in the next millenium. I have experienced this phenomenon many times since my arrival, but nowhere was it more frustrating than paying through the nose for seriously sub-par accommodation.
A swim in the plastic-wrapper filled water necessitated the first of many cold showers. But at sunset, rejoined by our fearless adventurer Crystal, who had hiked to Monterosso and back in just over 90 minutes, we hike up along the Cinque Terre trail towards Corniglia for Wendy's clifftop birthday dinner. The food was good, the views were gorgeous and we were greeted in the main piazza with a latin-dancing demonstration upon our return.
To say the night was uncomfortable is a mild understatement. When the music finally stopped, the squawking birds started a rousing pre-dawn chorus. I believe at one point Crystal tried to quell them with a string of choice Cantonese phrases and Chicago-accented English curses, but to no avail.
At just after eight am, Crystal, Emily and I set off on our Quattro Terre hike. It took just under one very sweaty hour to make it to Corniglia, but the views made the climbs worth it. This hike/walk is why people go to Cinque Terre. But we fell in love with charming Corniglia. There may be no easy beach access, but it's a tiny town filled with friendly people of all ages who didn't hesitate to engage us in Italian conversations. It was the keen difference between being a tourist in a town that is vibrant and distinct on its own, and being in a town that relies on tourism to the point where it loses its own soul.
As an outsider, I can understand the vital importance of tourism in a small town's economy. I can also understand Rick Steves' desire to highlight the beauty of this area. But I also think he has sold out what makes this place so special. His 'Europe through the back door' guides which aimed to highlight unique areas have become regular guidebooks that no longer carry the old title. There's the TV series, the luggage sales and the tours. Now, in high season, Vernazza is essentially transplanted America - the cliched tourists in black socks and sandals, clutching their Rick Steves guides to their sides like a bible. By all means, go to Cinque Terre and hike through these gorgeous towns. But if you can't go in the off-season, choose a town like Corniglia as your base if you want a more authentic Ligurian experience.
Wendy joined us in Corniglia for a leisurely coffee and then we strolled our way through Manarola and Riomaggiore, arriving just in time to catch the boat back to Vernazza and hit the road back to Bra.
Heidi! What fun adventures! Kate and I stayed at Riomaggiore, and Kate had brought Steve with us. We had been told of a lady that waits by the train station to rent out her apartment. And no lies, we stepped off that train and Mama Rosa was sitting on a bench outside the station, seriously, waiting for travelers. She ended up giving us a deal b/c we told her we had read about her in his book. and bonus she said his name like "Reeky Steeevey" (with Italian flare, of course!) and then instead of 2 days, we stayed 4. needless to stay, I'm a little jealous ;) Love you much!
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