skylight view, how I checked the weather/temperature each morning
The weather looked like it wanted to be all sunshine and
warmth when we woke up early Sunday morning, just like it had been the day
before, but as I craned my arm out the skylight window to find wi-fi and pick
up the weather forecast for the day, all 5 villages showed 100% chance of rain
starting mid-morning. Hoping for the best but expecting the likely odds that it
wouldn’t be the same kind of sun and fun day as yesterday, we packed up some
rain gear (and sunscreen and sunglasses, just in case) and trained to
Corniglia, the only town we hadn’t seen yet, for breakfast. Only when we got
there, we learned the station was the furthest one away from the town of all
the villages, and the rain clouds were moving closer and closer to us by the
second. We chose to backtrack to the station and wait for the next train to the
next town up, Manarola. It started pouring right before we got on the train,
and it was monsoon status for the entire afternoon. Still, we found a place down
by the water in Manarola to sit and eat, with an inside/outside seating area,
so that we could still see the water but not get wet. The waitress spoke
perfect English, no Italian accent, and I spent the morning trying to figure
out her story. I think her mom owns the restaurant, but that’s as far as I got.
The hot chocolate was the kind they have in Spain, essentially a chocolate bar
melted into a cup, and the banana bread was fresh and warm. Deeeeeelicious.
Instead of leaving right away, we decided to sit, people-watch, try to wait out
some of the rain, and maybe eventually order more food. That’s when the crowds
started rolling in. All of a sudden the restaurant was filled with people, and
we had to share our table with a woman who couldn’t fit at the table with her
group of German friends. We ended up having a conversation with her, which was
hilarious. She knew random English words, but nothing that really helped us
with the context of the conversation, and the only German things I know are the
numbers 1-12 and the phrase “speed limit.” Still, we went back and forth
talking, sometimes almost understanding what the other might be trying to get
across based on gestures and facial expressions, and sometimes just responding
with laughs and smiles, only pretending we knew what the other was saying. Stephen
and I were holding hands across the table at one point, and I’m pretty sure she
said something along the lines of “you guys are good together,” or at least
that’s what I’m going to take it as, and it made me smile. I ended up ordering
a Panini and Stephen got some fresh fruit and tea, and while we waited we
talked to other tourists in nearby seats, hearing where they’ve been and where
they were headed next. I always liked my answer best of all though: Oh I’m
living in Spain so I’m just spending the weekend in Cinque Terre. Pretttttty
lucky. When the rain subsided a bit and it coincided with an incoming train, we
made a mad dash for the station and headed back to Monterosso. I would have
loved to find another hike somewhere within the National Park, but there wasn’t
much we could do in the pouring rain. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise,
because I was still pretty tired from all the traveling and walking over the
two previous days. I napped for a solid hour and a half or so, and when I woke
up I was so discombobulated. The first thought I had was, “we don’t have
snacks, I need to go buy some chocolate.” Not sure why, since we’d already had
a big breakfast/lunch. But I followed my instincts and went to a local grocery
store to buy chocolate (Ritter Sport, my new favorite, and they always have so
many flavors here) and Ringo cookies (my substitute for oreos). And eventually
it did stop pouring.
I was itching to get out, get moving and get exploring, so
we went back up to Vernazza and did the 90-minute hike back to Monterosso
coming from the other direction. All the trails were technically closed due to
inclement weather, but that just meant there were a few less people to navigate
around, and it wasn’t any less beautiful (or any less strenuous) going the
opposite way. There were a few falling rocks to dodge and we had to be careful
on the tiny paths filled with mud, but other than that the trail was just as
good as the day before. We said “bonjour” in our best French accents to the
people we passed by, thinking they would think we were French travelers instead
of American ones. And while we didn’t stop nearly as many times as on the way
to Vernazza yesterday, I did pause to write our initials in the picnic table at
one resting point along the way. Had to leave our mark somehow.
even though it wasn't sunny the water was clear and calm, and the white rocks made the beach feel serene, and its always good enough weather to skip rocks
After getting
back, we hopped on the next train (we really took advantage of our two-day
unlimited train/hiking pass) to Riomaggiore for dinner. I started out thinking
I wanted an interesting restaurant with some authentic cuisine, but after
seeing a pizza place that looked and smelled like it was one of those
hole-in-the-wall gems you end up raving about and remembering forever, and especially
after seeing the cutest dog lying at the threshold of the door, I knew that was
what I wanted for dinner. They even had a special: buy a maxi pizza, get a
bottle of wine for 3 euro. Yep. We ordered, waited, and after receiving our
piping hot pizza made for 5 people, we hiked up a quick hill to the top of the
city, found a bench overlooking the harbor, and set up shop. It was the best
dinner and it came with the best of views for less than 20 euro. Study abroad
traveling on a budget at its finest. We made the tragic mistake the night
before of eating so late that all the gelato places had closed by the time we
finished dinner, so we made sure to not let that happen again. On the way back
down the hill we both got gelato, but I was unsatisfied with my flavor so I
gave it to Stephen and ordered a milkshake. Only I forgot that milkshakes in
Europe aren’t like the ones at home, they’re watery and less flavorful (in my
personal opinion), and the ones in Cinque Terre are no different. After giving
that to Stephen as well, I saw a fruit stand selling peaches, the first ones I’ve
seen all year, so I bought three. The third time’s the charm; they were ripe
and delicious. Back in Monterosso we got our train tickets back to Milan and
climbed the rocks leading out into the water from the beach. The day had been
stormy, but the approaching evening was calm and serene. The clear blue water
reflecting the moonlit sky, the last of the daylight fading behind the
mountains, and the white and grey rocky beach gave everything a glassy blue
tint. I could have sat on the big rock overlooking the vast sea and the specs
of the four other towns in the distance forever. But after using my camera’s
self-timer setting and taking a few slightly-less-than-perfect pictures (and
after I grabbed some dark chocolate gelato at a stand right off the beach…come
on, you can’t end the night without it when you’re in Italy), we returned to
pack up all our stuff into Ryanair luggage restrictions.
Monday morning was yet another early wake-up. Breakfast at
the B&B again, and Cherry told me it would be free today, but our stay had
been so wonderful and easy that when I left the envelope of cash to our waiter
(I never ended up meeting Cherry the entire trip), I slipped in some extra
money and a note letting her know I would definitely be back to Alle 5 Terre
and would tell all my friends about it. We had all our stuff with us, but we
wanted to sit on the beach as long as possible before our train left at 10:55,
so we brought it out onto the beach with us in front of the station. I usually
hate the leaving day of vacation trips, because it’s no longer a vacation. It’s
all about cleaning up the place, getting everyone’s things together, figuring
out plans of how best to get out of town and beat the traffic, but there’s no
time to relax and be where you are anymore. Not so today. We played games with
the rocks in the sand, skipped them in the water, laid out in the sun, and I
even ordered a Bloody Mary from a beach bar when the train was delayed a few
minutes. The most relaxing leaving day I’ve ever had.
wouldn't you know, the sun's out again just in time for us to leave
Still, the saying “all
good things must come to an end” held true and I begrudgingly got on the train
back to Milan, Bloody Mary still in my hand and sand still between my toes. I
slept some of the way back, avoided reading my book so that I would have
something to do waiting for the plane the next day, and played an iPhone game
that Stephen got me hooked on. It seemed like we arrived back at Milan central
station much more quickly, and when I stepped onto the platform, the same one I
left from just 3 days before, it was like the entire weekend had just been a
dream. Had we really already been to Cinque Terre, the trip I’d planned before
I had even been accepted to study abroad, and left? I hated what I knew was about
to come. Stephen had to catch a bus to the Malpensa airport, and my flight didn’t
leave for another 24 hours from Bergamo. We delayed the goodbye as long as
possible, getting pizza and then sitting in the park outside the train station
until he just couldn’t wait any longer. This was probably my hardest goodbye I’ve
ever said to him, and I’ll be home in just 3 weeks so I’m not sure why it hit
me so hard. It probably had something to do with the fact that I was in a
foreign city, sleeping in a weird hostel by myself, instead of in the comforts
of my own home, with the familiar around me. Sitting in the park I forgot that
anyone else was around and just let loose. I cried that kind of uncontrollable
sob you’re really only supposed to do when you’re alone in your room with your
face buried in a pillow. But I just didn’t even care. I don’t remember exactly
what I was saying, probably something about “I just want to go home too”—things
that were irrational and that obviously wouldn’t make the situation any better,
so there was no use in even thinking them—but I did anyway. Sometimes you just
have to be irrational, I’ve decided. I cried my eyes out, thinking to myself I
wasn’t going to walk around at all but instead just get in the hostel bed and
keep crying, but when it came time for Stephen to get on the bus, I had almost
no tears left. Good thing I had my Italy hat- my eyes were as puffy as they
could be- and I immediately found my way to the hostel I booked just a couple
days before, checked in, grabbed a map, and went out to see what there was to
see in Milan.
Which is basically a duomo, a park, a castle, impressive and
expensive stores since it’s a fashion capital of the world, and a great panini place I found on Trip Adviser. I took pictures of everything I saw, but nothing really compared to the sights on the coast and I was pretty bored. Whenever I saw a couple or a group of people switching off cameras, taking pictures of each other in front of whatever they were trying to capture, I always offered to take a picture of the entire group for them. In return they asked if I wanted a picture as well, but seeing as I was alone and still puffy-eyed I just said thanks but no thanks, and have a great day. I took the metro downtown from the hostel but
decided to just walk back since I had nothing else to do, so after about 3 ½ hours
of walking in total, I was back at the hostel. And it was only 8 pm. I ate my
Cinque Terre peach and orange from the day before, wishing I were eating it on
the beach in Monterosso, and read more in my book, thinking I would just be
tired sooner or later and could fall asleep early. I walked in to my room to
change clothes and was immediately hit with a smell that made me double back
and have to cover my nose. One of my roommates had checked in: a guy in his
mid-20’s from the Czech Republic with dreadlocks (he was the kind of guy that
you could tell just traveled for his life and had all of his belongings in a
hiking backpack, however at this moment all of his belongings were strung out
in various places around them, accounting for the smell). He was lounging in
his bed eating a pizza and drinking a beer, which he graciously offered to
share with me. No thanks. He proceeded to ask if I was traveling alone, what I
was up to tonight, etc. etc., and I just prayed that a normal person might also
check in to our room so I wasn’t stuck alone with him. Fun fact about this “shared
dormitory room” which might usually consist of 10 or so beds in any other
hostel- this room had 3 beds. Essentially a private room. Definitely didn’t
know that when I booked it. At that moment an older-looking Indian man came in
and put his stuff on the middle bed. Well, straight to the front desk I
marched, asking if there were any
other room available. Of course there weren't. I talked to my dad on the phone
for a long time, and he was convinced I should check out and go get a hotel
even if it meant spending the extra bucks. But it was already almost 10 and
dark out, and me being the savvy little traveler that I am, I said I could stick
it out. Only my version of sticking it out was staying up all night, reading
(and finishing) my book in the lobby. I broke up the reading by talking on the
phone (thank goodness for wifi and Viber technologies), and when 4:30 rolled
around I packed up my stuff and walked to the train station to catch the bus to
the airport. It was the longest night of my study abroad experience so far, and
I’ll be happy to never relive anything like it again. The Italian security
guards at the airport were awful; they took apart all my strategically packed
things, searching for the thing they were sure
was showing up on their little screens as a weapon (it was a little rock I
brought back from the beach), and by the time I was at the gate I was so
delirious I can’t even really recount how I got home. I couldn’t sleep on the
flight, and when I got back in to Sevilla FINALLY I had so much work to catch
up on and errands to run I didn’t even nap that day. So finally at 1 am or so
on Tuesday night, I went to bed, only to wake up at 7 am for class the next
morning. That’s like, what, 6 hours of sleep in 3 days? Needless to say I’m
still catching up.
So the end of my story of Cinque Terre isn’t quite as upbeat
as I would have liked it to have been, but that doesn’t take away from the fact
that it was still the best weekend (the best 2 days) I’ve had in Europe. A lot
of my friends are traveling more when our programs end in May and June, and are
planning on making Cinque Terre part of their journey, and I just can’t say
enough good things about it. I wish I could be in two places at once and hop on
their planes with them to go back! It was like a dream. True, I was so tired
when I finally got home that I probably couldn’t tell you what was real-life
and what wasn’t, but I have the pictures to prove this Italy getaway was very
real. I feel so lucky to have been able to go, to be able to say I’ve been
there, and I’m only 20. I realize so many people don’t get to travel until
later in life, and some don’t even get to travel at all. So I’ll gladly take
the less-than-ideal circumstances that sometimes come with stepping out of one’s
comfort zone and seeing a new part of the world. It’s all part of the
experience, and this is one experience I will keep with me for a lifetime.
