Every day I sit at my desk and there she is. Staring at me with her beauty, on my screen, and I begin dreaming of seeing her again. Vernazza. Don’t know her? I bet you do. If you’ve ever seen a picture of a pastel coloured village nestled into a rocky seaside outcrop, surrounded by turquoise blue ocean that looks just too perfect to be real, chances are, it’s Vernazza.
Note: I did not take this photo – this amazing image is my screen saver. The pics that follow are my ‘much less professional’ looking ones that I took while on holiday.
Vernazza is one of five towns that make up the Cinque Terre (meaning five lands) – a UNESCO World Heritage site – clinging to the Italian Riviera coastline. It’s rugged, ridiculously picturesque and full of steep terraces and sweeping views. I had never heard of the Cinque Terre until the big J and I went on our first holiday to Italy. We travelled by campervan (and that’s a whole other story to tell) and kind of stumbled upon it as we were making or way around the Italian Riviera.
(Side note – if you’re wondering why I call my husband Big J (Jason), it’s quite simple really. Our sons names also start with J, Jake and Jesse (we didn’t plan it that way – it just kinda happened) and so they are my J boys and my husband is the Big J.)
The five towns are quite remote, and you can stay in one of the hotels in town if you like (very pricey), but as we were in a campervan we stayed in neighbouring La Spezia, a major port in Liguria. It’s bigger, and perhaps not as romantic as the Cinque Terre, but had a well-equipped campsite and made a great base as the train network connects La Spezia to all the Cinque Terre towns within minutes.
There are a few options to getting to the towns. You can use the train to get from one town to the next, or you can walk using the hiking trails that connect each one. Now, here is where I should have been paying attention. ‘Hiking trails.’ Not ‘walkways.’ HIKING trails! I had no idea what was in store for us.
After taking the train to the first town, Monterosso, a beautiful little town with an impressive stretch of beach, we found our way to the beginning of our ‘hike’. After getting our cards stamped (there is a small fee for using the trails) and taking a few quick snaps we were off. Passing rows and rows of lemon trees and grape vines, I wondered how they managed to cling to the steep descents of the land. On we walked, the centuries old steps often crumbled, sometimes seeming two steps high instead of one. But manageable. We were fit, so I thought. We could do this easily.
As we walked, we were passed by many hikers coming down, walking their last stretch as they had started from the other end in Riomaggiore. I noticed a difference between them and us. Most were wearing hiking boots and the kind of special clothing for extreme sports you buy from stores like Kathmandu. Heck, they even had hiking poles. What the? I was wearing denim Capri pants and sandals and the big J was in Aussie standard shorts and thongs. We laughed at those people, “that’s a bit over the top” we said. Looking back, they were probably laughing at us.
The walk got steeper, the day got hotter. The steps seemed to grow taller, as if made for giants, not my spindly legs. Damn it, I needed a Kathmandu store. I needed a hiking pole. I needed to sit down. I was heaving like I’d run a marathon. Big J, in all his manliness, assured me I was fine, we could do this. Crikey, we hadn’t even made it to the first town! Now I noticed the expressions on the people coming the other way. Those beetroot-red, sweaty faces said it all. I started to panic. I wasn’t going to make it.
Those steep terraces that seem to go on forever!
After what seemed forever, we finally walked around the rocky edge at the top of our ascent and that’s when I saw her. Vernazza. Nothing can prepare you for that first look at her. She is perfect. Framed in rugged beauty; her pink, blue and lemon washed houses nestle around a piazza that looks out onto a boat-filled bay. I was so glad to see her, not just because I felt like I was going to die getting there, but because she was the prettiest town I’d ever seen.
Vernazza – A sight for sore eyes (and legs).
We walked into the town and strolled the cobblestone streets (there aren’t many). I loved everything. I loved the shops, the old fishing boats, the view. I wanted to stay. Vernazza had revived me with her charm. “Let’s stay” I whispered. But no, Big J had other ideas. “If we keep walking we can be in Riomaggiore for lunch” he said, as if we were in some kind of race with the other tourists. “I’m sure that was the worst of the walk, it’ll be easy from here.” Yes, he was determined we could walk the entire Cinque Terre in one morning. I had to admit, his enthusiasm was contagious (I think it has something to do with the fact that we both have competitive streaks). I took up the challenge. I naively believed him. There were lots of tourists out there doing this, it couldn’t get any worse. Again, I was wrong.
The walk from Vernazza to Corniglia felt more like climbing Mount Everest than a walk. The ancient steps were very steep, uneven, and I honestly wanted to give up. Big J decided to take a video of the view as we walked and all you can hear is my heavy breathing in the background; I sound like a stalker on the end of a phone. But we were now fuelled by a need to get to the end, we were halfway there and there was no turning back, so after a quick look around Corniglia, we kept going.
Corniglia – how the hell did they build this town on that clliff?
I was beginning to notice the walk was getting easier (thank God). The path was less steep and getting from one town to the next was taking less time. Unfortunately, my legs were already shattered from the first part of the hike, so even though the path was easier, I was still struggling. Big J kept going like a man on a mission, and I did my best to keep up, sounding like an asthmatic in dire need of ventalin. “Just think of how satisfied you’ll feel when you get to the end, it’ll be a real achievement” he said, trying to encourage me. “I’ll buy you a t-shirt that says ‘I walked the Cinque Terre in a day’” he said. That spurred me on.
Corniglia and Manarola are beautiful, but I had my eyes on the prize now. I wanted to get to Riomaggiore. We kept going. Thankfully, the last part of the walk is the easiest – the via dell’Amore (lover’s walk) has stunning views as you pass rows of padlocks and notes professing true love along the fenced walkway into town. I was grateful we had chosen to start at the other end. Imagine starting here and ending on the hardest part of the hike? My legs were spent, and I was hot and sweaty (and most likely smelly), but that sight of Riomaggiore was like someone waving a chequered flag. The finish line. I’d done it!
Here I am – leaning on the wall in Riomaggiore trying to stop my legs from collapsing!
After resting the legs and tipping a litre of water into my dehydrated body, we decided to look around town. Just like all the others, this was one gorgeous place, perhaps a little more touristy than the others, but just as pretty. My only disappointment was that we couldn’t find that trophy I was looking for. Not one souvenir of any kind boasted ‘I walked the Cinque Terre in a day’. I so much wanted that t-shirt. To wear it with pride after the gruelling morning I had been through. But maybe it wasn’t that uncommon after all, and I was just unprepared and unfit? “Let’s go back to Vernazza,” he said. “Are you crazy?”, I asked. “On the train,” he said. That was the smartest thing he had said all day.
Within two minutes we were back in Vernazza. We walked down to the piazza which looks over a small bay. There were groups of people sitting under coloured umbrellas in front of restaurants, eating, laughing and drinking wine. We tried to get a table, but everything was full. We were starving. What do we do? We saw a park bench, on the edge of the piazza, looking out over the small blue and white fishing boats bobbing in the sea. “Sit there, I’ll be back,” he said. I was ecstatic to find a seat, my legs still felt like jelly. He wandered off and I waited, taking in the scene. To my right were a small group of boys, 10 maybe 12 years old, kicking a soccer ball to each other. A mother was sitting on the edge of a garden wall with a baby, rocking her back and forth, smiling at one of the boys who I assumed was her son. I missed my J boys. In front of me was blue, cool turquoise blue water for as far as I could see. My feet were throbbing, but my face was cool as the sea breeze fanned my face.
See the little wall near the boats on shore on the right in front of the umbrellas? Our park bench was just behind that wall, looking out to the bay.
Big J returns, a bottle of wine, two glasses and a small bowl of olives in hand. “Where’d you get this from?” I asked. “From the restaurant,” he said. Apparently, they’re too full to serve us but were happy for us to take our wine into the street. I love Italy.
We drank our wine on our free park bench and relaxed in front of arguably the best view in town. Then a man in a white shirt waves at us, yelling something I couldn’t hear. ‘Oh God, we’re going to get in trouble for street drinking.’ But no, Big J has ordered us pizza and it’s ready. He returned with a simple pizza, topped with bright green basil pesto, the region’s speciality, and placed it on our bench next to our empty glasses of wine. The pesto was so fresh, spiked with a little lemon, generously smeared onto feather light, crispy charred dough. In that moment it was the best pizza in the world. Everything was perfect. I’ve tried many times to replicate that basil pesto pizza, but it just doesn’t taste the same. It’s like there’s an ingredient missing – I think it’s that park bench and the view.
This is why Vernazza greets me each morning on my screen saver – reminding me of that moment. Big J was right, it felt good to walk the Cinque Terre in a day. But I think next time I’ll stay a while longer, maybe a week, maybe a year (keep dreaming)? And I’ll definitely go shopping for some hiking boots before I leave!
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