Every village on the Mediterranean coastline is without a doubt beautiful, but it is hard to find good wine, food, hikes, beaches, vibrant colors, and a sense of timelessness all in one place. Cinque Terre has something for everyone.
"Fermata successiva Monterosso al Mare," announced the conductor. I had no clue what most of that meant, but I knew I needed to watch out for the words "Monterosso al Mare". I nudged Dhvani and we readied our gear. After eight hours of sitting on a train, we were both ready to get off and explore. I took one last look out the window before getting up. Water streamed across it, distorting the beautiful architecture of the train station. Too bad it had to start raining just as we arrived, but at least the forecast was good for the next few days.
Despite our best efforts we both ended up soaked just trying to get off the train. But we were hardly at our destination. You see, Cinque Terre is composed of 5 villages - Monterosso Al Mare, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore. Dhvani had picked an Inn in Manarola, and only locals are allowed to drive around Cinque Terre, so we either needed to take another train or go on foot. I took another look at the rain pouring down outside. It would be the train this time.
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Is this really a trail? Rocks crumbled under my boots and rolled down the hill, drawing a complaint from Dhvani just below me. It was already getting dark and the trail was narrow, so it was hard to tell which rocks would hold and which would roll away under me as I climbed. I stopped for a minute to catch my breath and look back towards the town.
Shadows were falling over the terraced hills all around us and the town started to light up below us.
I could just see the light from the sunset glowing on the horizon lighting up the dark Mediterranean, evidence that the rain clouds above us would soon recede. In fact, after dropping off our bags, the rain had slowed to just a light drizzle. Shadows were falling over the terraced hills all around us and the town started to light up below us. I could taste a little bit of salt with each breath, and the sound of bells from the church barely reached my ears. I imagined myself living here in the distant past. Not much would have been different. I waited for Dhvani on the ledge - she would want to see this too, and it was as good a spot as any to watch the sunset.
I'm not sure whose fields we were in, but I'm fairly certain we were not on the general use trail. Different paths crisscrossed the hills behind Manarola, leading either towards the top of the terraces or to the other towns in the national park. I wasn't trying to reach either of those destinations right then, though; I only wanted to get a good view of the town with the sunset behind it before we set out for dinner.
I imagined myself living here in the distant past. Not much would have been different.
The way down would be interesting - I could hardly see my feet. The locals strongly advise you to wear boots - I had even heard that some who wore sandals were sent back to town by the "bouncers" that ensured everyone had a trail ticket along the hikes. I was glad to have mine with me, I thought, just before another rock broke free under my heel.
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The forecast did not disappoint, and in fact, the weather turned outright balmy the very next day. I glanced back down the trail at Dhvani making her way up the crest. This wasn't an easy hike - the distance between the villages is not small and the trails are steep and rugged.
Sweat leaked into my eyes. I wiped it off with my sleeve. We hadn't expected it to get quite so hot along the water, but climbing the dry rocks in the full sun really made a difference. Having skipped that little bar halfway through the hike was starting to seem like a bad idea, but we really wanted to reach Vernazza before the sun got too low in the sky. I stopped once more to take in the view to my left: the gnarly branches of olive trees and then deep blue water as far as I could see.
Though they are all similar in location and theme, each village has a unique atmosphere, architecture, and history.
Like all of the other villages, Vernazza impressed us long before we set foot in its streets. Even from afar, we could make out the impressive tower built on a peninsula that jutted out into the sea. Its walls seemed like extensions of the sheer rock cliffs that made up the peninsula, thirty meters or so above the crashing waves. It watched over a characteristically vibrant community and port bustling with both locals and visitors.
Though they are all similar in location and theme, each village has a unique atmosphere, architecture, and history. Corniglia, for instance, sits atop a one hundred meter cliff face defying the sea's rough waters, while Riomaggiore's streets almost empty out into the sea, offering beautiful foot trails along the water leading to a secluded beach.
We spent a little bit of time in each village to try and get the feel of each one's rhythm and try out some of the local delicacies. The seafood was fantastic, and Dhvani's vegetarian fare of gnocchi and pesto became one of our favorites. We also found pistachio gelato among one of Vernazza's shopping avenues, which is one thing Dhvani refuses to pass up.
Our dinner that night came with a free glass of champagne. We had actually picked a popular spot, and we didn't get a table right away. With three levels of tables and steep slopes between them, we felt a little sorry for the servers who tirelessly carried large plates of lobster and whole fish up and down for hours on end. The owner came and told us he would not kick anyone out - people could stay at their tables all night if they wanted to, even without ordering anything. That was just the culture. It only made us want to eat there more, and when he saw us sticking around he handed us each a glass. The culture of consumerism we were used to felt like it was a million miles away at that moment.
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I held the railing in both hands and glanced around. There wasn't anything *specifically* saying not to hop over and explore the other side, only a small white warning sign that doing so might be dangerous. Of course, that never stopped me before, and besides, I'm known as "the mountain goat".
I got low and scrambled down towards the water like a puma.
I landed on coarse, uneven rock sloping quickly down to the churning water below. Though it was still early, the sun was out in full force, and standing on those dark rocks was really starting to make me sweat. I got low and scrambled down towards the water like a puma, looking carefully through the rock formations as I went. I found what I was looking for after twenty meters or so.
A section of the rock had worn away into a small alcove. By cramming myself into the back of the hole I could look out and see the town as if from a cave. I gave Dhvani a thumbs up and got to work with my camera.
Manarola had turned out to be one of our favorite villages. It was a bit quieter, the terraced hills around it really impressed us, and there were many "hidden" locations to discover. We even found a little playground and a monastery out on one of the peninsulas just a short hike from the heavily trafficked trails. There are literally a dozen viewpoints around the village, each offering a different perspective of the town, its port, or the great Mediterranean.
That said, the entire park is worth exploring, and we enjoyed every minute of our time in the Cinque Terre.
