BATH, CINQUE TERRE AND SARDINIA DAY 5 – WEATHER? WHAT WEATHER?

We sleep in and have a leisurely breakfast in the apartment, no rush to go out in the teaming rain.  It’s supposed to let up this afternoon, but it’s showing no signs of that now so we dawn our trusty ponchos and hop on the train to Manarola to explore another of the villages.  By the time we get there, the rain is intermittent, but the winds at the trailing end of the storm are blowing in.  This town is more beautiful then the two we visited yesterday, more colorful and dramatic with stark contrast between sea and rock and buildings and tiered farmland. 

(click on the pic to view the full size image)

At the top of the town is the church, its detached belltower across the courtyard keeping watch over the villagers and tourists below.  We go in the church and, like the ones we saw yesterday, it’s modest inside, absent of the gilding and glitz of European city cathedrals, just a simple place to commune with the Higher Power. 

As we walk out a torrent of rain and wind kick up and we seek refuge in a tiny enoteca, a wine shop specializing in locally produced product.  It’s tight space, the walls lined with bottles, the proprietor, a stylish Italian woman in her late 30s behind the counter and a table with 6 chairs currently filled with 5 women and one man.  Our flash assessment is it’s full, move on, but the patrons warmly cheer us in and Marinella, the proprietor, quickly unfolds two chairs and puts them at the head of the table for us.  We ask for local white and she pours Liguria di Levante a Scia for Mandy, the same wine the waiter had picked for us last night.  Mandy comments on how beautiful the bottle is (which is one of the reasons she immediately recognized it) and Marinella explains that Cinque Terre wine has always celebrated women and points out many more beautiful, feminine labels. 

The other patrons waste no time including us in their rollicking conversations.  We learn that 4 of the women are traveling together from Switzerland, have already been there for 2 hours and have lost any any sense of Swiss inhibition.  The other two are a couple from Australia ordering full bottles instead of individual glasses, so they’re in jovial spirits as well.  The conversation at the table is free and easy, and with each glass we order, Marinella includes another snack… first olives and crackers, then focaccia and ridiculous pesto, then an entire 5” wheel of Ugo e Luigia, the regional take on brie made with cows milk and goat rennet, which is divine with the minerally white wines we have been tasting.  We warmly talk languages and travel and home and sports, weaving jokes frequently throughout the conversation.  At one point Mike, the Aussie, says something to the effect of “look at us, very different backgrounds, very different experiences, but here we are, all getting so beautifully.  Makes you wonder why the world is how it is today.”  In vino, veritas, mate.  Maybe it was time, maybe it was good juju, but when we leave, the sun is out for the first time since we got here. 

We train it to Corniglia, the only one of the 5 villages without direct access to the sea.  Getting off the train it’s about 400’ up hill to the town, and we walk the curvy road up.  Exploring, we chat about the similarities and differences among the villages.  We stop in a little bar (here that translates to coffee shop) for some cappuccino and fresh squeezed OJ, then wander some more.  When we see the biggest lemons ever in front of a gelateria, we can’t resist the basil gelato, which is improbably out-of-this-world good. 

The rain seems to have passed, so we set out on our first legit hike.  We’re going from here in Corniglia to Vernazza, a treacherous 3.2 kilometers of jagged rock “steps”, offering stunning vistas for your efforts.  To add to the challenge, the 3 days of rain has left many sections of the trail as a constant, slippery waterfall.  But the bright sunshine carries us up and up and up, and we take far too many pictures of the villages and the sea.  At the summit, we see a hand lettered sign for an outdoor shack of a restaurant, promising “Fresh Fish All Ways” and “Fried Fish Take Away – No Thorns”.  Readers of this blog know I’m a sucker for a 50s roadside attraction, plus, I really hate thorns in my fish, so I convince Mandy that it’s just another 100 or so sketchy steps up and we need to try it.  Alas, the rain has kept the establishment closed today, but we do get our best pictures of the hike from this new vantage point.  Mandy says the village looks like the wide shot of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood, adorable in miniature, overly colorful and complete with a running train line. 

We decend into Vernazza and treat ourselves to a big, well-deserved cone of Frito Misto while we wait for the train back home. 

Back in Riomaggiore, dinner is at La Lampara, we do a carb loading dinner, with a pasta dish, fantastic pizza (our first since we’ve been in country) and some beautifully grilled veggies.  The hike, the wine, the air, the sun, we sleep deeply, restfully, peacefully.