There are only 3 days left of Summer vacation for teachers at my school. Before me on my desk and bookshelf are five grammar texts that need scouring before I go back, and yet, much as I admonish my students for this type of behavior, I am distracting myself with the internet. Over the last few days I have distracted myself from starting my school year with unpacking (there's nothing left to unpack), organizing the new house (it's all now quite in order), and running errands (which has gotten quite out-of-hand). Procrastination is an absolute art, an art I actually excel at - and consequently am an expert at spotting in my students.
The fact that I'm not working on the last Saturday of the Summer really isn't surprising (it is THE LAST SATURDAY OF SUMMER after all); and anyway, I need to get down my thoughts on Italy before they are even more of a distant memory than they already feel.
oh, Italy.
A nine hour train ride took me from Paris to Milan, then a two hour train ride took me from Milan to Monterosso, then a THIRD train took me to Riomaggiore where I would spend the next four days in such absolute bliss as one cannot describe in words.
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| Riomaggiore from the sea |
The Cinque Terre is a collection of 5 towns on the Linguarian coast of Italy, the north-west - Monterosso - Vernazza - Corniglia - Manarolo - Riomaggiore. Most are devoid of cars - all lack busy automobile-ridden streets - and you access them by either ferry boat or train. The towns have an air of olden days, faded paint clings to the crumbling walls and tough, elderly fishermen, standing confidently despite the unsteady keel, row their tiny boats in after their mornings on the water.
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| Manarolo |
The five towns are all connected by paths (known as Trail 2) that skirt vineyards that overlook the sea from the high terraced hills that surround the colorful little villages. Unfortunately, due to recent mudslides, many of those paths are currently closed - even the famed Via d'ell Amore was partially engulfed by the rich soil that tumbled down the hill with the Spring rains. Each path has a distinctive character - I've walked all
but the Via d'ell Amore and each one offers its own special views of the mountains, the sea, the towns, and the local agriculture. My favorite path is the first one I ever hiked - Vernazza to Monterosso; the up and down steep steps and pathways take you high above Vernazza for spectacular views and then deep into culverts with trickling brooks before bending sharply up again for views of the sea. It is a physically demanding hike and in some places so narrow that only one person can pass in one direction at one time...which can be difficult as the day wears on and troops of out-of-shape tourists clog the paths during the hottest parts of the afternoon.
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| Riomaggiore |
This trip the only path that was open every day of my visit was the Vernazza-Corniglia hike. This is one of the two paths I missed on my first visit, so I was happy to climb it. My friend and I started early in the morning - the misty harbor glittering below us as we did the steepest portion of the climb from just behind the Vernazza train station up behind people's houses and past bars and restaurants perched on the hill like gulls' nests. Once the initial ascent was complete, the path was largely level, until we would come to another set of limestone steps that would appear like an image from
Lord of the Rings.
As Corniglia is the only town perched at the top of a hill and not on the sea, I was surprised at how up-and-down the path became as we came closer to the town, at times we were high above the town, and at other times the town rose above us. We were hiking nearly 45 minutes before we saw another soul on the trail, and only met a dozen or so people the whole hike until the end, when we saw masses of people starting their hike - though the temperatures were really rising at that point at nearly 10:30.
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| Corniglia |
The church at Corniglia had organized a basil festival - where the organizers had given out hundreds of little basil plants and the residents of the town had to creatively display the plants all over the town, with a prize for the best display (sadly, we missed the pesto contest that came a few days later). Little pots of basil hung from ancient stone walls all over the town and the smell was incredible.
The rest of the day, after the 4 km hike, was spent on the beach in Monterosso, on rented chairs with occasional dips in the sea and eating amazing little savory pastries from a bake shop just outside the train station.
Outside of the hiking and beaching, this trip I also took advantage of the ferry service. On a whim, my friend and I took the ferry to Porto Venere, two towns to the South of Riomaggiore on the Golfi Poeti. The ferry ticket included a separate boat tour of the five islands that make up the Gulf of Poets and around the harbor of Porto Venere.
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| Porto Venere |
Porto Venere was positively beautiful: a castle and ancient church stand guard above the town. A sheltered black-rock cove, called Byron's cove as it inspired some of his poetry, provided a nice place to eat prosciutto sandwiches we had bought in Riomaggiore before setting out in the morning. The town seemed larger than many in the Cinque Terre, and also emptier. Because it is not on the train line (it is accessible by ferry boat, bus, or car), many of the day trippers seemed to have missed it. This was a blessing because the Cinque Terre towns were packed from about 10:30 am - 3:00 pm while the day-trippers on tours / cruise ships were unloaded into the towns for 30 - 90 minutes a town and then moved on to the next.
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| Byron's Cove |
As always, the food was amazing, the gelato was amazing, and the local wines were incredible and cheap.
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| fresh mussels |
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| cone of fried sea critters - SOOOOOO good |
After four days, it was time to move-on to Italy part II. An early morning train to Genoa, a mid-morning train to Milan, and a mad dash across 10 train platforms to catch the fast-train to Venice (Venezia).
Venice won me over in 2006. My friend, Awesome A, was living in Bologna and I went to visit her for Thanksgiving. We decided to take a day-trip to Venice (on the day of a train strike, we weren't even sure we'd make it!) and shortly after our arrival, it began to snow. The city was empty: a few locals went about their business, a few (a very very few) tourists were piled by their guide into a few gondolas, but otherwise everything was eerily quiet and still. The snowflakes continued to fall, started to stick, and began to pile up. We got lost in the snow, our feet were freezing, and we were really hungry when we stumbled upon a little sign set-up outside a first-floor room that was glowing warmly into the chilly grey of the evening. "Marie's" - it was a three-course set-menu for 5 euro. Marie was a tiny aging woman in a large fur coat, her boyfriend was a large, muscular Jamaican cook and it was her last night operating the restaurant as she was moving to Jamaica with her boyfriend. The restaurant was once three rooms, but the dividing walls had been knocked down between the rooms to make one long hall with benches and tables and three different wallpapers. The soup and coffee were warm, and the company - other travelers who had gotten lost in the snow - was jovial.
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| Lost in Venice - on purpose |
Fast-forward to this summer; it's July in Venice. Tourists/tour groups/tour guides bustle through St. Mark's Square, crowd restaurants with large plastic menus printed in six different languages, and buy trinkets at the myriad stalls set up along the quay.
And I barely took notice of them.
Instead, my friend and I walked the winding back streets of Venice in the morning, taking especial care to get lost and not pulling out the map until it was time to eat. We took the Vaporetto (water bus) to Murano (an island 10 minutes or so from central Venice) early on a Sunday morning, saw a glass blowing demo, bought some trinkets, and had an early lunch; returning to Venice just as the crowds were heading out to Murano. We took the Vaporetto to Burano (90 minutes) early on a Monday morning, when Venice seemed overrun by cruise ships, and enjoyed a walk and lunch in the colorful fishing village and also got to speak to some local artisans about their glass and paper mache craft.
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| Burano |
Every meal in Venice was amazing. I had ravioli stuffed with wild poppy flowers and topped with pomodoro and mussels, I ate fresh burrata with pesto and tomatoes, fish risotto, spicy squid, and a whole branzino. Life in Venice was delicious - pricier by far than the Cinque Terre, but worth every bite.
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| Burrata |
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| Wild Poppy Flower Ravioli |
I was sad to leave Italy behind and board the ferry for Croatia. I'm sad I'm not in Italy now. I am never, ever so happy as when I'm sitting sipping a proper cappuccino in an alleyway cafe, or enjoying a gelato on a rock by the sea - as long as it's in Italy.
