The Color

(written August 18^th on the train leaving Cinque Terre)

The Chianti car adventure ended pretty much how it began – Drama. When my Mom and I first discussed the trip, we were concerned that it would be during the two weeks of Italian holiday around August 15^th.  But up to yesterday, we had had no problems.  There were always enough restaurants and shops open, and everything touristy was open. But that changed when we were on our way to return the car.  After a wrong turn that led us onto a highway with an exit only every 15 minutes, we were close to missing our train to Cinque Terre.  And then the search for a gas station began.  We found one!  It was closed for the holiday.  We found another!  It was closed for the holiday.  Same with the third.  By the time we filled up and returned the car, our train had left.  But we hopped on another and made a tight connection in Pisa so we only lost an hour. 

Cinque Terre, as it was last year and always will be, is an unbelievably beautiful place.  It’s a series of five old fishing towns (Cinque Terre = Five Towns) along the northwest coast of the country.  The area became a national park about 15 years ago and is now an interesting mix of super touristy and very local.  It wasn’t on the original itinerary but my Mom loved my pictures from the towns last year and since we had an extra day I thought it would be great for her to see it for herself.

We went to Monterosso first, the northern most town, which has the only real beach.  We walked around, took some random staircases (my favorite part of Cinque Terre) and shopped a little.  I went back to the spot where I took the picture that I put on canvas in my apartment this past year.  The lighting was totally different, and the place that was empty in my picture was suddenly filled with tables and people – and a photographer taking the same shot I took. 

After misreading the train schedule and having to push our dinner reservation back, we hopped over to Vernazza, the next town down.  It has a beautiful piazza on the water and the colors were incredible in the light of the sunset.  I had my Mom pose in a few different places with the piazza in the background, I’m hoping one will become her new profile picture.

We had dinner in Vernazza at a restaurant atop a medieval tower (or at least it looked like it was a medieval tower).  The weather was, like every other night of the trip, perfect. 

We got to try the pasta of Liguria (the region where Cinque Terre is), trofie al pesto.  Trofie is a type of pasta that I really liked last year and spent a long time googling to figure out what the name was.  But I never see it at home.  They’re little spirals, and just the right amount of chewy.

We had time for two more towns today.  First was Manarola, the second town up.  I explained to my Mom that even though it was really hot and the walk could be steep, you gotta climb to get the best views.  She was reluctant at first but after a few minutes of hiking she was the one pushing to go further.  It seemed like a new lizard scurried away with every step, and we were greeted by a small snake on the path.  The views were spectacular and it was great to get away from what was a very, very crowded day in Cinque Terre.

The only part of the trail between towns we were able to do was “Via dell’ Amore” (I’ll let you figure that one out) to Riomaggiore, where I stayed last summer for a few days.  My friend Samira told me that her friend/our host was now working at the Central Bar in town, and I ran into her throwing out trash from the restaurant, so I got to introduce her to my Mom.  It was funny seeing someone I knew there.  We had our final meal together (trofie al pesto again for me) and headed to the train station after this final adventure.  Of course we stopped for a last gelato.

It’s already strange traveling without my Mom, she was a great travel buddy.  Now is the transition, I’ll have some downtime before I head to my first camp on Saturday afternoon.  I’m not at all in the camp mindset, but I wasn’t last year either until the first morning of camp, so I don’t think I’ll be too nervous. 

Now I’m on the train, in one of those 6-person compartments.  The only other guy in it has been with me the whole ride.  At the beginning he kept asking me questions in Italian and finally asked if I was Italian and was surprised to find out I wasn’t.  I could take this as a compliment, but I think it says more about this guy’s weirdness that he couldn’t figure that much out.  He also ends most of his sentences with “Mamma mia!”  “Troppo caldo (too hot), Mamma mia!”  “Cinque Terre, bellissime (so beautiful), Mamma mia!”  And every once in a while he tries to start up a fast Italian conversation, I’m doing my best to show a polite lack of interest.