Remembering the Charm's of Italy's Cinque Terre

We departed the Roma Termini train station at 8:10 on a Genova bound train stopping in La Spezia, where we would switch trains and continue on to the Cinque Terre. The countryside outside of Rome was dramatic - dark grey, clouded skies contrasted the bright green fields, laced with brilliant red poppies mixed with hints of yellow and deep green. Terra cotta roof tops, pastures, cows and sheep adorned the rolling hills and distant mountains. Just before the Livorno stop the seascape became rocky and dramatic, with hazy ghost ships far off in the grey mist of sea and sky.

After switching trains in La Spezia Centrale, and boarding the train for the Cinque Terre we met a kind eyed man named Antonio. He was greyed and a little stocky, with deep blue eyes and a very kind smile. He was also getting off in Corniglia and helped us with our luggage by taking Ann's case. He showed us where to wait for the bus that would take us into the center of town. He also pointed out the way to a particular beach to which he was presently headed and explained that there was a tunnel you had to pass through to get to it. We thanked him and parted ways, and a short bus ride later found ourselves in our charming apartment with a balcony overlooking the vineyard-laden, terraced hillside, and the sea. From that lovely view all is filled with the hushed sound of the sea, chirping birds, distant roosters, sheep and church bells.

By then the sun was out, the sky was soft blue, and we quickly changed into our swimsuits and sundresses and ventured back through town towards Antonio's beach. "Bella! Bella", voices shouted over a roaring engine as a truck drove past. We turned around to see 2 men sitting in the open back of the truck, legs dangling like little boys, chuckling and blowing kisses. With a little confusion we found the path to Antonio's tunnel, and skeptically ventured in the first few steps. As we progressed, the dying light at the entrance faded away completely, and you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. Ann started to panic and wanted to go back, but I was afraid that if we did we wouldn't find our way to the sea that day. I persisted, not realizing just how scared she was, and as we stumbled forward in the dark, we took pictures periodically to light our path through the tall, vaulted tunnel. The tunnel was cool and damp and filled with the stale moist air you would expect in a cave. The center was all mud, the right all trash and nooks and crannies, and the left, a narrow walk way. Stalactite-Like formations hung from the ceiling, and water dripped constantly, echoing throughout the eerie silence.

Finally, we saw a faint light in the darkness ahead. Ann, who was still quite nervous, called out to it, "Hello!?", but there was no answer, only the shining light in the oppressive darkness. With little choice, we proceeded toward it, and finally a man's voice called out, telling us he would light our way. For a moment we felt quite doomed, walking toward that mysterious light, unable to see anything else, least of all the person holding it. My mind flashed to a thousand such scenes in books and movies, and a sense of alluring horror set in. When we reached the light, the man holding it began to laugh. "Sei tu!" he exclaimed. He shone the light more broadly and before us stood Antonio! He had been on the other side when he heard voices and came to assist.  He kindly walked us through the remainder of the tunnel, chattering in his friendly way. He assured us again that the tunnel is quite safe. I had read about it in a guidebook, which had said you had to pay a custodian to open the gate and light the tunnel. Antonio said that was once the case, but now one could wander through freely in the dark, and it was so peculiar he preferred it this way. Finally, after half of mile of blackness, we reached the end.

            We emerged into a blinding world of sun, blue sky, sea, and lush, green landscape dappled with countless brightly colored flowers. A narrow path through the overgrown but lovely vegetation marked our way. To the left was the sea, and enormous, rocky cliffs, and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks. As we continued, Antonio told us there used to be a man who was custodian of the area, and that he had planted a lot of the trees and flowers and maintained the paths, but the funds had run out some 4 years ago, and since then the place was left to grow wild. But there was such a magic about that tangled, overgrown scene, and it was so rewarding to find it after our creepy adventure in the tunnel. Passing through magnificent bamboo and huge wildflowers, we began our descent down to the rocks by the sea, where we climbed down ruined, rusted steps which ended suddenly, and then continued down an old ladder leaned against the rocks.

The beach felt like a secret paradise, although there were 2 or 3 people there, sprawled on rocks sunning. There was no sand – only grey and black stones, with high rocky cliffs on either side. The water was so beautiful - a deep emerald green near the coast, changing to the most beautiful blue in the depths of the sea. The sea was wild that day, as a storm system had recently passed through, and the waves were rather violent. Once we dove under, into the cold salty water, we could feel the strength of the current. It was lovely and so refreshing, but we didn't linger for fear of being pulled out to sea or smashed into the treacherous rocks. We sat on rocks along the shoreline, letting the waves crash against us like mermaids, and collecting tiny beads of sea glass that looked like little gems from so many years of weathering against the rocks. I got cold and found a huge, slanted rock to sun on. I love the way it feels when the salt dries to your skin, and your hair feels soft and textured, and the sun feels so good as it slowly returns the warmth to your body. I laid content, listening to the birds and the waves in that heavenly place.

 In the evening we ate outside on a terrace over the sea, happily exhausted from the sun and the sea. After stuffing ourselves with bruschetta with fresh pesto, mozzarella and tomatoes, we had gnocchi ai quattro formaggi, chocolate panna cotta, and sampled our first of the "sciacchetra", the famous local wine made from partially dried grapes. In the days of the ancient Roman Empire it was referred to as "the wine of the gods", and one can see why. It is sweet and refreshing and served in small portions as a desert wine. The white sciacchetra is slightly amber in color, and almost reminds me of a white port. It comes in red as well, but the area is best known for its white wines. We both agreed it was delicious.