Squirreliken gets Salty!

This weekend squirelican got his fur a little wet at the beach! And not just any beach, but lovely, beautiful, quaint, picturesque Cinque Terre! Sara and Vanessa, two Northeastern friends whom I sail with, came with me to the coast for the weekend. We have all known each other for three years and know we can withstand any sort of traveling together since we have had sailing  trips from hell in the middle of Maine in the during a hail storm, so this was a breeze. Vanessa came up from Perugia and we took the train to Riomaggiore (the first village) Friday evening. We had an amazing hostel with our own private bedroom and a terrace that overlooked the water and the town. Riomaggiore is probably one of the quietest of the five towns which we had no problem with since it appeared that almost everyone we saw on the street was a local and I got to practice some of my Italian.

            The first night we had an amazing sea food dinner with salted bread! Who knew that a simple thing like salted bread would become such a luxury? That night there was a thunderstorm like I have never seen, convincing us that we may or may not be washed away into the sea.  The next morning we were woken up at seven am by the church bells that rang 27 times. Apparently no one in Riomaggiore can sleep past seven a.m. We started our day with chocolate croissants and cappuccino and then hit the trail! We hiked to all five villages (nine kilometers) and took time in each town to explore, get a bite to eat or drink and really take in the windy streets and precariously perched pastel houses.

            It took us all day, with some parts of the hike surprisingly treacherous and steep. We climbed 382 stairs to reach Cornellia and from Vernazza to Montarosa (the fourth and fifth town) the trail became a rock scramble on the side of a cliff, with a 500 foot drop to the sea on one side. We reached the last town tired, dirty and in love with the land. All three of us decided we will retire there and be cranky old women with canes complaining about the espresso and making rude comments at tourist.

            Saturday night we had dinner in Vernazza and sat next to a lovely Indian couple. Talking to them made me A. want to travel to India and B. hate the American educational system. They said that every Indian (middle class or above I assume) speaks about five languages: Hindi, the regional language, English, Spanish, French, and then they also spoke Arabic since he was Muslim. They were so nice and loved asking us questions and answering ours. They told us about being Muslim in India (although I am assuming they were not very strict since they went through a bottle of wine), and loved hearing us talk about being three young girls and traveling, something they had never heard of. We parted ways with them around ten and took the train back to our flat right in time for another massive thunderstorm.

            The next morning we were not woken by the church bells, but instead by a Rooster. The country-timey feel of this did strike me as cute, however the fact that is was only five a.m. greatly detracted from any love I may have felt for the Rooster. We spent Sunday morning being lazy at a rocky beach in Manorala. The water was to rough for us to swim which was a bummer but it felt great to just soak up the sun and enjoy the view. We headed to lunch around two, just in time for more rain. Instead of sticking it out we decided it was time to hop back on the train and head home to Florence.

            Overall the first trip I planned was a total success! I learned how to read the train schedule (no easy feat), get away from the hustle and bustle of Florence, and be with two old friends! Can’t wait until the next trip (Switzerland)!