Cinque Terre

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Fortunately or unfortunately, most travellers heading for Italy take solace in confining their itineraries within the well known and well tested destinations - Rome, Venice, Pisa and Florence; maybe Naples or Milan at the most. But on a personal note, I realized that these big and historic cities represent a rather ordinary snapshot of what all this beautiful country has to offer. Looking around for a different and ethnic Italian experience, we decided to spend a full day in Cinque Terre (pronounced somewhat like Chinkw Terrr, चिन्क्व तैर) about which I had come to know through an Italian colleague.

Cinque Terre, or The Five Lands, is a small piece of civilization nestled along the Ligurian coast of Italy on the shores of the Mediterranean. The five villages are all perched on steep mountain cliffs and are connected by hiking trails. A local railway, most of which lies inside tunnels, passes through each of these villages and is the only means of getting into the region since there are no roads connecting it to the Italian heartland. Once a favourite haunt of pirates, these villages today present a unique spectacle

of exquisite natural beauty with their steep vineyards, rich olive orchards and colourful picture postcard dwellings, being kissed by the azure blue waters of the Mediterranean; all left nearly untouched from the noises of a fast paced tourism oriented economy.

Our plan was to trek the entire stretch between Riomaggiore and Monterrosso, the end-villages. But we reached rather late owing to the not-so-pleasant goof up in the train. Nevertheless, on reaching Riomaggiore, we deposited our luggage at the locker room of the station and started off towards our destination with full spirits, expecting to finish the whole trail in about 7 hours, before darkness sets in. Our next train, which would take us back to the French-Italian border, was to arrive at 3 am the next morning.

Now things do not normally go the way you would like them to which is one of the principle beauties of a backpacking trip. One hour into the trek, we realized that we were walking on a wrong path since according to the map, we should have crossed the next village - Manarola - by this time. A more careful look into the map suggested that we had taken a wrong direction from the station itself, and were now about a mile away from it, towards south; whereas we should have gone northwards. So, with a heavy heart, we conducted a hasty retreat and managed to return to the station. Back to ground zero with two hours already gone, the complete trek was now looking out of bounds. Therefore, we boarded the local train, skipped Manarola, and reached the third village - Corniglia, after being told that the stretch

between Corniglia and Vernazza (the fourth village) is the most scenic and strenuous. With a careful look at the map and the watch, we started our ascent towards Vernazza, right up above the station.

As I reflect back, I can confidently contend that this was one of the best, if not The Best, parts of my Eurotrip experience till date. Winding our way up through the vineyards, we came across a lot of peasant folk working in the fields and terraces, and occasionally other hikers as well. As an incentive, we had a lot of olive and peach trees overhung along the trail which made sure that the two wanderers were never short on a supply of fresh fruits. The Mediterranean vegetation was in its full bloom and the trail edges were studded with wild flowers and creepers. All along, deep down the steep mountain face to our left, the Mediterranean gave a great company throughout. Some small ships and catamarans shone in the distance like little pearls. Plus, one great thing about these summer evenings in Europe is that you get to receive gentle sunshine at very oblique angles, lighting up your face, which feels even more blissful when it comes sweeping through the blue ocean.

The hike was pretty steep in places, but with less load and lesser time in hand, we managed to maintain a good pace. It was very tiring though, and our clothes were nearly drenched in sweat. My estimate of the distance turned out to be a bit incorrect and it actually took us about 4 hours before we actually got a glimpse of Vernazza, our destination for the day. Still, the sight of it was

enough to ward off all the fatigue - a quaint little hamlet on the edges of steep cliffs, with an old fortress like structure overlooking the tiny harbour below - so much like in fairytales. As we descended into the village through its winding alleys and steps, it seemed that some lazy cats and puppies were the only active inhabitants of this sleepy and beautiful cluster of houses.

We marched into the station but found that the next train was due after an hour. This was a bad news since it was 6:30 pm now and our locker room at Riomaggiore, where our bags were kept, was to close at 7. But since there wasn't any other option, we decided to explore the village and buy some local stuff. We went to see the harbour and it seemed quite a happening place as there were some restaurants and small fishing boats were being unloaded. We got into a restaurant overlooking the sea and had dinner (thereby breaking the "economic" code of backpacking), along with some local wine, which was damn good stuff. The whole setting - blue sea, steep

mountains, a charming village and a nice dinner - was so romantic that I actually felt the need of female company; Jatin must have felt the same :P

Finally, the train arrived and took us back to Riomaggiore sprinting through the tunnels, where we were happy enough to find that the kind owner of the locker room had left her keys with the station master who in turn, gave us our bags, with a nominal charge to account for the delay.

8 pm, darkness setting in, still 7 hours to go before our main train comes. We spent time exploring the villages, using local trains intermittently to ply between them. Finally, at 11pm, we got into Monterrosso, the last village and made serious effort not to fall asleep by walking randomly and talking to the few other backpackers that were there on the beach. This was difficult since we had slept barely 4 hours in the previous two nights taken together. By the time

the train arrived, the urge to sleep had attained its maximum. We boarded the nearly empty train, threw the bags on the shelf and fell asleep occupying 3 seats each. Sheer ecstasy!

I was woken up by the ticket checker at 10 am. These fellows look the same everywhere. We had created quite a spectacle with our haphazard occupation of seats. Our train was entering Ventimiglia, the last station on the Italian side. I woke Jatin up; we collected our bags, got down and changed into the French train for Nice and Monaco, still half asleep. Bye Bye Italy! Ciao!

A picture speaks a thousand words. The beauty of Cinque Terre is best seen here.