Living The High Life
Being right in the hub of all the action and the centre of town, if we open the windows, we can hear the hustle and bustle of the street below. This morning when I poked my head out I saw women watering window boxes, trucks delivering juice, men sweeping the street (with brooms that looked as if they were straight off the set of Harry Potter) and women in rollers calling out loudly to one another through the windows of their neighbouring blocks. There were dogs being walked, rubbish being collected, the dulcet tones of a Pavarotti impersonator and the sound of people chattering in Italian, wafting up through the morning.
Ross ventured out to get us some freshly baked bread for breakfast and visited the cheese shop. Every good Italian village has a cheese shop after all. Not sure what he was after, when asked by the jolly shopkeeper which kind of cheese he’d like, he suggested, “maybe some Swiss?” She replied: “Oh no! You must have Italiano!” The unidentified Italian cheese, wrapped beautifully in patterned tissue paper, was absolutely delicious.
Our plan for today had been to catch a ferry to Manarola -one of the other villages in the Cinque Terre – but the ticket office reported that the ferry wharf at Manarola was broken and there’d be nowhere to stop there. Aside from throwing us overboard so we could swim in, our other options were to walk there, which although it was a lovely day for a walk, was a 7 and a half hour trek, or to catch a train. So we decided to catch a train. I know Italians have a solid reputation for being a little hot-headed on occasion but our experience so far has been that the Italians are a pretty laid back bunch, especially here in the Cinque Terre. They are friendly but not overly helpful (there are exceptions of course) and there’s a lot of shrugging going on.
Most of Southern Europe had decided to catch the train from Monterosso Station today; a mass of sweaty little sardines huddled together on the platform. Surprisingly, the train was airconditioned and we all got a seat. Arriving at Manarola was crazy! There were people everywhere! We had to queue just to get up the stairs; the narrow streets heaving with holiday-makers enjoying a day out.
After a search of the map, we followed the crowds and headed up and around the winding esplanade that took us to the top of the hill, opposite that famous vista synonymous with Cinque Terre – colourful building blocks, congregated together in pastel shades, nestled at the foot of the cliff, on the edge of the azure sea. The most Instagrammed view of all time (even nudging out the Eiffel Tower) it is just as beautiful in real-life as it is on Instagram. Sam set up his tripod and we lined up to capture this moment on film, a great reminder though it will never able to aptly depict its real-life beauty. Stalls selling leather purses and selfie sticks were set up at the top of the hill, taking advantage of their captive audience. Our camera-clicking fingers worn from all the exercise, we once again consulted the map and made like mountain goats, setting off on an uphill climb.
Manarola is surrounded by terraced hills, thick with grapevines above rocky walls. Ross led the way, well-prepared with his hiking boots being put to good use, as we traversed the steep green mountainside. As we ascended up tiny rocky stairs and navigated the precarious narrow paths – with no guard rails or fences and only a foot wide in some places -the view of the town below and the Ligurian Coast beyond was breathtaking. The weather was hot and the ground was dry but the big bunches of not-quite-ripe, lush green grapes and the leafy twirling vines provided a stark contrast to the grey, stony earth and weathered stakes of the hillside vineyards. We only encountered a few fellow-climbers and for most of the walk it seemed like we had the view all to ourselves. We all wondered how on earth these farmers go about harvesting their grapes. It sure would be time-consuming, hot, hard work!
The descent was also a little sketchy, down a long, extremely steep staircase of rock steps, made slippery by sand and dust. The bottom sections had a handrail drilled into the rock, making the job a bit easier. We popped out at the bottom to find ourselves in a shady courtyard full of triumphant hikers, many of whom had been walking from other towns. The much needed water fountain was getting a good work out!
The strong smell of garlic was floating in the air reminding us of the urgency of lunch. With all that climbing we had worked up quite an appetite. We’d seen lots of people walking around with paper cones full of fish and chips so we figured that was a good option for lunch. Pulling up some steps in a shady laneway, we enjoyed a yummy lunch and a coldie or two before getting into our cossies and plunging into the cool, blue water. Rocks formed a natural pool below the town and the concrete driveway leading down to the water was strewn with sunbakers, young and old, in various stages of undress. From atop the cliff earlier we had seen a few bare bums lounging below but for now there were just lots of semi-clad cheeks on show, some fairly ample indeed. The water was very deep and so amazingly clear you could see right to the bottom! Big fish were sharing the pool with us and the big jump rock was attracting a big crowd. The moss covered rocks at the water’s edge were providing fun entertainment for onlookers with bodies slipping and sliding all over the place. With one last look around this picturesque, seaside town, we decided to make tracks.
Returning to Monterosso on the crowded train, I nodded off- suggesting a nanna nap was in order. Ross and the boys dodged beach umbrellas and crowds, indulging in a refreshing dip at the Monterosso Beach and we all had our daily, mandatory gelato fix as we wandered back home.
Maisy is still loving the bidet and has gained immense pleasure from her daily squirt, inviting us to watch “if we’d like”. As tempting as it is, her squeals of delight are enough for us and we have all declined her generous invitation, duly informing her thanks anyway but it’s just not a spectator sport.
We took the advice of our landlady again tonight and booked dinner at an incredible restaurant, Ciliegio, set in the hills high above our little town of Monterosso, offering spectacular views overlooking the town and the sea beyond. A minivan picked us up and delivered us to our lofty perch where we enjoyed a spectacular dinner. Our entree of lightly fried spinach ravioli had us all salivating and Maisy maintains she had the BEST lasagne she’d EVER tasted.
