When The Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie…
The plan for today was to buy an all day ferry pass and sail to the 3 other towns in the Cinque Terre we were yet to visit. The Australian woman (with mighty good Italian) that was selling the ferry passes, told us it was going to cost us €125 for the ferry whereas the train would only cost us €45 for the same inter-town pass. Seeing how humungus the ferry queue was, Ross made the executive decision to go by rail instead.
The Cinque Terre local council should really invest in a shade sail for their train station. If a school P & C can hold a couple of cake stalls and get the funds together, you’d think the people of Monterosso could pass the hat around for a bit of shade. Standing up on Platform 3, we were cooking! We met a lovely couple from Holland – the bloke a dead ringer for David Koch – who were looking to us for directions. The blind leading the blind. Dutch Kochie and his chatty wife travel to a different part of Italy each July and are enjoying their retirement now their boys are all grown up. Onboard, the airconditioning was struggling to cool its overheated, tightly packed commuters. A little monitor told us the outside temperature was 28 degrees and the inside temperature was 26 degrees, so not exactly sweet relief.
Our first port of call was Riomaggiore where exiting the train station led us down a lengthy tunnel with a beautiful tile mosaic mural running down its entire length. The town, with the same rustic charm and signature Cinque Terre colourful buildings as its neighbours, sloped quite steeply upwards and had plenty of cute shops, cafes and of course, the ubiquitous gelaterias.
Walking in the other direction took us down to the sparkling sea; houses draped with fishing nets sitting right on the water’s edge and timber fishing boats bobbing in the crystal clear bay. A large pointy rock on one side was providing jump-rock fun for those game enough and stairs on the other side lured us around to a beautiful beach that sat far below the cliffs. Given the number of beaches we’ve visited this holiday with sizeable rocks on them, in hindsight it really would’ve been great to have packed some booties. My advice would be to save your soles and pack a pair if you’re planning on coming to Europe in summer (Wicks have plenty of stock). Apart from being a bit hard on your feet, those rocks heat up! Making your way from towel to water is a dangerous business and is like treading on heat beads. We regretted not bringing a few snags – they would’ve sizzled nicely alongside us.
Getting in and out of the water is also a bit of an ordeal. Once you’ve completed the walk of fire to get to the shore, the rocks become bigger, rounder and extremely mossy. Staying upright on those slippery little suckers is a challenge and when you do take an inevitable tumble, it’s pretty hard to get a grip again. I caught a young couple having a good belly laugh at my expense when I was washing around in the slippery shorebreak like a beached whale for what seemed like way too long. Any composure I’d gained by managing to get to a standing position was immediately lost as I “ouch”-ed my way back to my towel.
Having said all that, the water was divine – SO clear and refreshing! Giant submerged rocks covered in mossy carpet were fun to dive off or sit on, letting the swell wash over you. At one stage Toby glanced beneath the water and excitedly exclaimed there was a ship down below him. With visions of a pirate ship lurking under our kicking legs; treasure chests and old kegs of rum; Maisy took a look too, downgrading it to a possible speedboat, swearing she could see a motor. Then in an anticlimax akin to NSW losing the State Of Origin series, Sam had a good look and proclaimed it to be nothing more than a humble rock. Oh well.
Looking back at the beach, nestled beneath a mammoth cliff, hollowed out to house the railway line, we could see trains rattling by, through tunnels way up high. The apartment where we are staying has provided us with beach ‘towels’ which are made of a silky fabric and are more like oversized scarves than towels. With the absorbency of a plastic bag, we’ve started to refer to them as ‘the tablecloths’ and have noticed they seem to be the popular choice in the Cinque Terre – the beach covered in them.
I’ve noticed since we’ve been in Italy that people eat very healthy snacks. On our train trip today, one mum was handing out whole tomatoes for her eager kids to munch on. I saw another guy chowing down on a whole capsicum and kids at the beach being handed giant crispy lettuce leaves when they asked for a snack. Not a chip packet or biscuit in sight. It’s nice to see. (I guess they have to compensate for all that pasta and gelato somehow!)
The ferry wharf at Riomaggiore is in a very strange position. From the beach we could see the big boat heading straight for the rugged rocks and thought it had gone off course, destined to be dashed to pieces. The next thing we knew, a shaky metal plank was launched off the front deck and passengers began to flow down the ramp. Toby commented that it looked like a perfect place for a shipwreck.
We lunched in Riomaggiore and jumped on a train, ready to check out the town of Vernazza. Unfortunately we had inadvertently boarded an express train which sailed straight past Vernazza and back home to Monterosso. That was a bummer. Ross had had enough of sightseeing and decided to have some down time, foregoing a visit to our neighbouring town and taking a solo exploratory walk up in the hills above Monterosso. The rest of us waited for a train that never came, on sizzling Platform 3 and after a while, decided we were all too knackered to bother, opting to stay and make the most of our last afternoon in beautiful Monterosso. While waiting for the train that never came, one large tour group treated us with an impromptu sing-a-long, singing with great gusto in what we think was Italian. They were awesome!
Dinner tonight was a gnocchi feast at a beautiful local restaurant. Two chefs, behind glass, dressed like Popeye, were yelling orders – at the top of their animated Italian voices – as they came in. With an impressive array of fresh seafood on ice laid before them and hot pans at the ready behind, they worked their hearts out all night in a non-stop frenzy. The hot gnocchi was brought to the table in a big serving dish where it was mixed with the sauces before our eyes and spooned into individual dishes by dapper waiters. There was also a window into the floor that allowed a sneak peek down to a fully stocked wine cellar. It was such a great place!
As we were heading of to bed and getting packed up for the morning there was a bit of biffo going on outside our window, on the street below. Loud insults were being called out in Italian and as we watched the drama unfold before us, I could’ve sworn I heard someone utter “ ahh shadduppa you face!”
