Cheeky

This weekend, we went up north to Liguria to The Cinque Terre, a remote part of the Italian Riviera. No museums in sight; simply sun, sea, sand (read: pebbles), hillside houses, honey, pesto, and pure, unadulterated Italy.

We stayed in Riomaggiore, my first look at the fascinating tangle of pastel homes. After climbing approximately 217 steps (twice) we reached the top of the town where I spent too much money on an especially fantastic dinner (spinach flan, grilled vegetables, pesto, and the shared desserts of coffee crème brule, caramel apple cake, and this pastry thing with honey and cheese). Since we ate especially early, we had the entire restaurant and it’s incredible view to ourselves, and finished with enough time to catch the sunset over the ocean.

(the top of Riomaggiore, and the view from our restaurant)

In the morning, we began the first hike, Via dell’Amore. There were more “love locks” like in Florence, and more Italian graffiti along the walls (I haven’t put pictures up yet, but most Italian graffiti I’ve seen consists of “mi manchi gia” (I miss you already), and “buongiorno principessa”. None of that threatening gang I’mma-cut-you crap).

(Potter Puppet Pals anyone?)

("And if you need me and don't find me, look for me in a dream...I love you")

The road led to the second town of Manarola. Tiny and picturesque.

(camping?)

(the piazza of dead birds?)

(nature woman. ha. ha. ha.)

We then took the train to the center town Corniglia. However, the train did not prevent us from walking up 382 switchback steps to the hill-top town. To reward ourselves, we ate some Rick Steve’s recommended gelato (as they use their homemade honey to make it, that is the delicious flavor I chose).

Being in Italy, and especially when it concerns food, you start to not think – just do. Which is why we laughed later after we realized that we ate the gelato simply because it was there and we wanted gelato, and didn’t think that right after we were starting on a 4 km hike to the next town. Whoops.

Despite the lack of sustenance, the hike wasn’t the hardest I’ve ever been on. Though it was the most beautiful, interesting, possibly dangerous, enticing one. No railings, despite having about a 3-4 foot leeway between you and a cliff, and fragmented stone ground left me on the tip of my toes and wondering what was around the corner.

As it turned out, around the corner was the next town Vernazza, overseen by a ruined castle and a stout stone church. Here, both the tourists and the natives learn to live the phrase “vita pigra di Vernazza” or the lazy life of Vernazza. We also had the most delicious pesto bruschetta ever (another “after hike” reward), and then took the train to the last town.

Monterosso al Mare, the only Cinque Terre town built on flat land. After arriving in Monterosso, only one thing was on my mind: beach.[The town does sport a 16^th century look-out tower, and a Nazi “pillbox,” a small, low concrete bunker where gunners hid (during WWII, La Spezia, the town right before Riomaggiore, was an important Axis naval base and Monterosso was bombed while the Germans were there), but I’ve put it on my “next time I’m in Italy” list).The water is warmer, bluer, and clearer than in California, but I definitely prefer my spacious, sandy beaches, where people don’t like bikinis or speedos as much.

Sad and pathetic story: as we were enjoying the beach Friday afternoon, two Italians approached myself and two other friends. After chit-chatting a bit, they ask us where we were from. I respond with "California." He looks at me..."You are very white for a girl from California," turns to my friend, "it is strange. She is very white."

Dang it.

(hahahaha sorry I just love this)