August 2

After our first trip on an Italian train (Nice to Venice) I was convinced the rest of Italy was going to be a mass of hot, sweaty train trips. Thankfully, the car we boarded for our trip from Venice to Monterossa.

We had a succession of interesting carmates including an elderly Italian lady, a couple of Mexican guys, and finally a collection of guys from Pakistan. The last bit of our trip was on a milk run to Vernazza. The station there is so small only the first couple of cars are actually at the platform. If you're in the back of the train you get off in the tunnel and walk along the wall to the station.

We arrived in the heat of the day so by the time we had climbed the many, many steps to our room we were in a full sweat. Our room was tiny, but relatively cheap.

There's not a ton to do here, but with the Mediterranean lapping at the breakwater we were hard pressed not to just drop a towel on the rocks. In the end we gave in to the temptation of skin cancer and threw our towels over the rocks for an hour in the late afternoon.

Dinner was simple pizza and chianti on the rocks overlooking the water. I... uh... drank a bit much so Amy finished the journal entry for the evening. The day ended with one of the more memorable lines, "ma woo whoa!" You figure out what it means, I've got no clue.

August 3

Today dawned cool and cloudy. I was a bit relieved to be free of the relentless sun. We hopped a train for La Spezia which is the biggest town near the Cinque Terre and home of a supposedly fun street fair. Street fairs we visited in Sarlat and Bayeaux looked to be primarily for tourists, but this was an actual normal person open market. Locals were buying cheap clothes and old ladies were pawing through piles of thongs (I only wish they were for their feet). Amy found a loose-fitting dress which would work in this ungodly heat as well as back home since it had a hood. Of course, at $7 how could I complain?

We boarded the train again (always the train) past Vernazza to Montorossa which was bigger than our home base, but really was interesting more for the promise of sandy beaches. It didn't disappoint, but also didn't disappoint about a million others either. In spite of the crowds we were able to find a good spot on the narrow sands for a couple hours.

Back at our room we got a shower and headed down for dinner only to find there were no tables available for two late-reserving folks like us. Oh well, grab a couple paninis, a bottle (or two) of chianti, a bundle of chocolate and head for the cliffs. A perfect little picnic looking over the sea at the setting sun. Perhaps our most perfect night so far.

August 4

Clouds again wreathed the mountains when we woke late this morning, but since we were up late last night it didn't bother us too much. The plan had been to head up to Montorossa early, buy floaty things, and spend the day riding the waves. Since it wasn't exactly beach weather yet we had a sort of breakfast in bed. What this really means is that I headed down to the shops while Amy snoozed away. We wound up with fresh foccacia bread, croissants, and a Minute Maid blend of "5 fruitti."

After we had eaten we headed to the beach in spite of the less than inviting clouds and found a spot on the beach. The sun showed itself every once in a while, but with no real regularity. Occasional rain drops fell which greatly concerned me, but Amy not so much since they did little more than refresh us. With little actual sun we both passed on sunblock, but only I really paid the price. My back was burned, but it was patches on my front and backs of my legs which competed for the title of "most annoying body part."

In what was starting to be a very enjoyable pattern we left the beach about 5pm, got gelati, showered and read for a bit, and checked our email. We had a bit of fruit before sitting on the rocks waiting for the sun to set and the fireworks to begin, if you know what I mean.

(By your silly grin I can see you don't. Let me explain. August 5 was the first Sunday in August and that's Vernazza's special day. Special services at the church and an old fashioned Italian BBQ. Before the fifth, though, is the fourth and more specifically the night of the fourth. This evening promised a concert and fireworks over the bay.)

While we waited for the show to begin we watched the locals entertain themselves. Perhaps the most fun was a 50 year old guy who walked down to the pier with a yellow lab puppy that might have come from Tokul's litter. He brought the dog to the edge of the water, stripped down to a swimsuit, removed the dog's collar and leash, and dove into the sea. The dog followed and swam behind the man. He would stop to tread water and the dog would climb onto his lap for a bit of a rest. After several trips into the water the two climbed out and took a shower (which Tokul's littermate didn't particularly care for) before heading off into the countryside.

Around 10:30pm a single shell was fired high into the air and exploded with a deafening boom. The cliff-lined cove and the stone buildings surrounding the square concentrated the sound of the shell so it seemed to rattle the very stone we sat on. The shell itself seemed to be a warning to the boaters who were moored in the marina. They streamed out of the restaurants and a flotilla departed as though launched by Helen's visage.

At 11pm a second shell exploded and the last sailor ran to their boats for a last minute departure. Soon they were just another dot bobbing on the horizon. Shortly thereafter the lights went out in the whole town and we waited.

You'd expect a show put on by a town of 900 to be rather... well... weak. Perhaps a couple shells, maybe some sparklers, certainly nothing longer than five or ten minutes. In Italy, however, they obviously take fireworks very seriously.

The first couple shots were lonely and although big and booming led one to expect a quick end. The pace picked up for a solid 15 minutes of high-flying shells and ear-shattering blasts. Since the walls of the harbor constrict the view the shells were never fired very high. Flaming material frequently fell into the marina, hissing as they hit the water. As a result, the entire show felt as though it was happening right on top of us and filled our field of view. I've seen lots of fireworks shows in cities and towns, but I can't remember one as wonderful as this one.

August 5

Following the fireworks show I certainly didn't sleep very well. My back felt as though it'd been deep-fat-fried. Amy was kind enough to let me sleep a bit longer than normal. I got up around 10am.

We decided to train to Montorossa, the northern-most town of the Cinque Terre, and hike back until we found a nice beach where we could sleep away the middle of the day before hiking the remaining distance to the southern-most down in the cool of the evening. This was opposite the direction the travel guides recommended doing the hike, but since the trail from Montorossa to Vernazza was described as the hardest we thought it best to tackle it first while we were still fresh.

From the center of Montorossa the trail was steeply uphill, but paved. I had brought my trail shoes all the way through Europe and was beginning to feel they were wasted weight in my pack. I had used them only in Scotland to climb Arthur's Seat and while biking in the Loire valley. Happily, the trail deteriorated quickly and soon we were walking along the face of the cliff which ended in a collection of rather pointy looking rocks 90 feet below.

The views, of course, were spectacular. If we weren't looking at the unspoiled blue of the Mediterranean we were staring at a tiny village nestled in the rocks with terraces for grapes and olives all around. Each village had a water fountain where we filled our bottles and tried the local gelati.

The trail, from one end to the other, is 11km long and was once the only way to get from one village to the next aside from boating. In the early 1900s the railway went in and the towns were opened to the rest of the world. Now they've become so popular they are contemplating a rail line farther from the coast so the high speed trains won't disturb what remains of the peace of the towns. Today the trail is used only by tourists like us and the folks tending the vines and olives growing on the steep hillsides. Each parcel is separated from the next by a rock wall and a gate.

We hiked all but the last section of the trail which was closed for construction. We didn't feel too bad, though, since it was described as a paved walk that sounded more like the Burke-Gillman than Mt. Si. We hopped a train back to Vernazza to do laundry, writing, and reading. In the laundromat we met a couple from Vancouver who were heading to the same hotel in Sienna, our next stop.

Around 9pm we finished our chores and retired to an outdoor table at the restaurant next door. Dan and Serena (from Vancouver) joined us, discussing all manner of things until midnight. Dan was a special ed consultant and Serena a nurse so inevitably the conversation centered on schools, but oh well. We agreed to meet the next morning to take the train to La Spezia and from there on to Sienna.