Cinqueterre: I’ll take Liz’s ass, on the rocks
On Friday morning, we left for Cinqueterre, a cluster of five small towns (cinque=5, terre=lands) along the coast. Before leaving for Italy, my poetry TA advised me that if I was going to travel in Italy, this was the place to go, and several guidebooks apparently say the same. It has been described as a hotspot for traveling college students, which was verified when we ran into not only about 20 people from our program there, but also groups of students from ASU and several long-lost acquaintances from other universities. An overwhelming majority of the people we encountered spoke English.
On the train ride over, I met a very nice man named Daniele, who is about 40 and a bartender, and says he loves Americans because they are the friendliest of all tourists. He got off the train with us in La Spezia (about a 10-minute train ride from the closest of the 5 towns), and asked around to help us find our hotel, and even walked us halfway there.
After checking in, we took the train to the farthest town, Monterosso, to get in some beach time while it was still warm (the weather report predicted rain all weekend). As we began to set our towels down, I heard someone say, “Adrienne?” and discovered that we were standing right next to none other than Daniele, who had been sunning himself on the beach.
Lane and I went for a little swim, and eventually we all wandered around the town, shopping more than we intended to with money we no longer have. Daniele had told us about a shop which gave out free limoncello (a very strong after-dinner drink), and we went inside and discovered that they also gave samples of plenty of other drinks (meloncello was a favorite) and spreads (famously good pesto, walnut spread, olive paste, etc. on crackers). Also, they sold bottles of Absolut Disco, which is a special edition vodka sold in, essentially, a disco ball.
We were walking around looking for a place to have dinner when a very nice American couple told us that we HAD to go to the restaurant they had just tried, and that the tiramisu was “retarded.” Which apparently means tasty. We decided to try it, and the food was delicious. Liz and I bonded as the official trip “fatties” as we compulsively mopped up the group’s remaining sauce with baskets of bread. We’re not sure how the rest of these skinny fools were raised, but we weren’t about to let good (expensive) food go to waste, even if it did cost us a little pride.
That night, we returned to our hotel, and got ready for bed. Kim and I had been singing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” when we heard some noise in the hall, and then a British man’s voice on the other side of the door yelled, “You can’t sing, so shut up and don’t try.” We’re pretty sure our neighbor is Simon Cowell.
In the morning, we got up early in the middle of a thunderstorm, and hesitantly put on bathing suits under our hiking clothes. We ate the free breakfast at the hotel, and because none of the other 7 really drinks coffee, I was forced to drink a full pitcher of espresso. We set out, and the rain gradually stopped.
We had decided to hike between each of the 5 towns, which, assuming you take the lower trail (not the 12 hour hike into the mountains), is supposed to take around 7 hours. One piece of the trail was closed due to “weather” (mudslides), but the rest were open, and we set out. The hills proved to be a little steep (cough), but the views were incredible. Someone in our group accurately described the rolling green hills and sparkling coastline as “like Jurassic Park.” We all got mildly exhausted and sore after the climb, and Liz fell down some stairs on her ass, which is now bruised and changing colors “like a mood ring,” but the hike was, overall, very fun and definitely worth taking.
4 of the girls decided it would be a good idea to play “shot golf”—that is, take a shot in each of the 5 cities—but I opted out, seeing as I was sweating enough to dehydrate myself sufficiently on the hike. This did, however, make us some friends in each town, and Lindsey, as always, was very popular. A train stopped near while we waited at the station later in the afternoon, and about 30 probably inebriated Italian men seranaded her from inside (the only word I could pick out in the song was “bellissima”). One man told Liz that we were “all beautiful, but I LOVE her,” pointing to Lindsey, who was attempting to hide behind us, then asked if we liked Italian boys.
While the younger men here can be a little irritating (if entertaining), the old men are by far some of the best characters I’ve ever met. One man we sat down next to in Town #3 gave me a mushy banana and Liz a brownie, handed everyone pieces of chocolate (“Swiss! The best!”) and proceeded to tell me he was 80 (“4 times you!”), and describe to us—in Italian—his experience during World War Two.
After our hike, we went to a beach in the final town, Riomaggiore, which ended up being very rocky and almost impossible to swim in. Brian ended up in the hospital after getting thrown against some rocks, Robert was cut up and bleeding and had to be pulled out of the water, Baywatch-style, and anyone else who tried to go in got at least a few little cuts from the tumbling rocks.
Sunday, we planned on hanging out at the (good) beach, but it poured all morning. We instead played cards on a covered deck overlooking the sea and drank cappuccinos with a splash of Bailey’s, which was, as it turns out, an excellent way to warm up. We took a train to Pisa, but stopped only long enough to take a few pictures pretending to hold up the tower (like absolutely everyone else there), then left.
The train ride home was fun, if uneventful, as we discovered that travel games from our childhood (such as making up a story, one word at a time, in a circle) are still a pretty damn good time. We’ve gotten very skilled at entertaining ourselves on our frequent train rides—for example, the other night we managed to do “the elevator” (as in “ping!” and sink as a group) while being watched through the window.
Another excellent trip. If you’d like more details about our travels, I’m sure Liz would love it if you checked out her blog as well: LizDimino.blogspot.com.
