March 13, 14, 15
Cinque Terre means five villages. It is on the Ligurian Sea, an arm of the Mediterranean. There are five villages spanning 12 miles connected primarily in two ways: By railroad and by hiking trails. All but one of the villages (Montorosso) are predominantly up a mountain side. Many people come here, not only for the beauty but to hike from village to village. The full hike is considered arduous for an experienced hiker. A partial hike (Vernazza to Coniglia) was more than I could handle.
We arrived in Vernazza by train in mid afternoon on March 13th. This day, as well as the next 3 days, was sunny, mid-60s and cloudless! We were met by Michelle who operates a 4 unit “hotel” along with her Italian partner Giuliano Basso. Michelle, who is about 30, 5’6”, proportionate and 3 months from having had a baby girl, pointed up to the mountain and said, “There’s your place.” I looked at our luggage and started having palpitations. Nevertheless, with Michele’s help, Ann’s guidance and my sweat, we made it up there in about 15 minutes. Ann counted the steps, 69, and Michelle confirmed that. We stopped along the way and admired the vista. On the way, in between heavy panting and Ann’s encouragement (“…you can do it, Gerard”) we noticed beautiful gardens, fruit trees and the sparking sea. Our “hotel” was charming: Spacious bedroom, nice sized room and a large communal terrace, all facing the sea. I began enjoying it after I wrung out my shirt and used my puffer.
We had a great time in this beautiful area. We picnicked on our terrace, walked from Romaggiore to Manarola (the lover’s walk), ate great pasta and seafood in reasonably priced restaurants, met some outstanding people and, all in all, enjoyed the experience. Due to recently being designated a national treasure, these five villages now have strict building regulations and will remain unspoiled. I hope you all will get here some day.
A couple of anecdotes:
On our first day here, while we were “checking in,” a young man and his girl friend asked Michelle if she had any rooms. She said she didn’t but if he’d wait, she’d help him find a place. While waiting, I spoke with him. He reluctantly (I had to cross-examine him) told me that he was a student at West Point. His girlfriend went to NYU and was doing a semester in Florence. It turns out that they are from Torrance. He’s spent summers at Catalina which, of course, piqued Ann’s interest, and they were traveling on Spring Break. I met another resident of the hotel, Katie, who was traveling with her parents. While talking with her, she put on a jacket which had West Point on the front. It turns out her brother is a first hear student there. Over the next couple of days, I ran into Andy and his girlfriend on two occasions and tried to hook him up with Katie and her family but was unsuccessful. Names were exchanged, though. Andy said he would be in Catalina this summer and look for Ann at Emerald Bay.
As mentioned, Ann and I took a hike on the coast from Riomaggiore to Manarola.
Along the way we drew a heart on a wall with our names within (permissible, encouraged graffiti). When we got to Manarola, we watched a lone fisherman come into port.
Unfortunately this town is situated about 40 feet above the sea and there is no place to moor a boat. 
The village drill is for an incoming fisherman to yell up to a paisano of his who activates a crane/winch from the town above. A hitch descends to the boat which the fisherman hooks onto the boat and it is then raised to the village area where all the local boats are stored each night. 
One of the legs of the hiking trail is from Vernazza to Coniglia, supposedly a 90 minute walk. One day I ventured out on the trail.
On the way out I don’t remember walking on level ground or downhill once. The views along the coast, back to Vernazza, and forward to Coniglia were spectacular. The trail itself was a bit rugged so when people would come from the opposite direction it got a bit precarious. 
Ann had heard of this trail from our friends Madeline and Jeff and chose not to test her aversion to heights. I made it to the outskirts of Coniglia and then made an about face. On the return trip I watched (and Ann said she was watching from our room) as a helicopter made about 10 trips picking up goods of some sort high up on the mountain and delivered these goods to a group of men 500 feet below. I was glad I wasn’t paying that bill.There’s a guy named Rick Steves and he is the travel guru for Italy as well as other places. In his chapter on Cinque Terre he mentions to be aware of its charm for some people have come here , been enamored by its beauty, its residents, and have stayed. That Michelle’s story. She is originally from Fort Lee, New Jersey but later moved to the Bay Area. She traveled here in Sept., 2005, met Giuliano and now is raising a family here and operating the business.
We really enjoyed talking with her. One day we were comparing bad Italian T.V. variety shows with its counterpart in Mexico.
You know, the loud, balding (or bad toupee wearing) short, fat emcee surrounded by tall, statuesque beautiful fawning models. If only life imitated art.Our last meal in Cinque Terre was outstanding. I had a black spaghetti (colored with the ink from a squid), cooked in a red sauce with hot peppers. Ann had gnocchi in a gorgonzola sauce. We shared a typical main dish for this area of Italy: Anchovies cooked with potatoes, peppers and herbs in a red sauce. I know what you are thinking but they were fresh anchovies, mild tasting and delectable. Try ‘em…you’ll like ‘em.
We’re off to the big city again…Florence and its world of art.
They say this rock formation looks like Richard Nixon...Our last sunset at Cinque Terre.
Goodbye Piacenza!
It’s a large, port city and we were centrally located. 
Although his English was minimal, what was remarkable about him was how hard he tried to speak English. When stymied, he appeared to be cursing at himself but would inevitably get his thought across: He had a girl friend Babette, he was in his last year of university and due to the cost would need to get a job this summer and begin work…no, he would not be coming to La Jolla to study oceanography at Scripps. He was a fun compartment companion.
Avignon is an ancient walled city on the Rhone River in Provence. For about 100 years it was the Vatican of its day as it was the center of Christianity and housed 7 popes. Supposedly, St. Catherine of Siena’s intercession convinced the then sitting pope to return to Rome.
The Palace of the Popes, the biggest Gothic palace in the world, was a massive fortress like structure. It looked more like a castle than a Palace…..it looked cold and austere and we were glad we weren’t sleeping there. We left there and headed towards Benedict’s bridge which has on it a chapel dedicated to Saint Nicolas, patron saint of bargemen. The bridge, along with the Palace, is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It spans just half of the Rhone, the other half was destroyed first in the Crusades of the 1200s and then again by raging waters and finally abandoned, although the chapel is still in use.
