I find it very ironic that the final words of my last post were, “Should be fun!” Fools.
We started the day exuberant and joyful; enjoying our breakfast and excited for our “adventure”. It was only supposed to be a high of 65 that day so we opted for jeans, tennis shoes, a ¾ length light shirt and a light jacket; it might be chilly in the shade so best to be prepared. We thought about wearing workout clothes, but with a high of 65 and our plan to “stroll, not hike” to Vernazza, we opted for the more stylish option of jeans. Fools.
It was about a 15-minute walk to the start of the trail to Vernazza. When we got there we were both thinking, “Hmm…, it’s kinda warm, but, YAY we are about to start a gorgeous, scenic stroll on the Cinque Terre trail. We won’t need these jackets, but that’s ok., we’ll just tie ‘em around our waist and start walking.” Fools.
It was about 20 minutes into the hike when we realized, HOLY FREAKING MOLY this is a legit hike. There is no “stroll” option. We trudged along, hating our suffocating jeans every step of the way. Towards the end of the hike, we saw two young 20 –something’s heading the opposite direction, dressed much more appropriately in shorts and tank tops. As they approached us, we heard them saying, “Damn, this is really hard.” And as they passed us, Michelle heard them saying in a college, know-it-all tone “but I’m so glad we didn’t wear jeans.” We wanted to hate them in that moment, but we also wished we weren’t wearing jeans. One point for the college kids.
Our projected 2.5 hour hike took us almost four hours. We literally climbed over a mountain to reach Vernazza. The train would have taken 5 minutes. Please don’t mention that to us. Ever.
Our only consolation was that there were a lot of people on the trail who were clearly planning on taking the non-existent “stroll” option. Only the super-efficient Germans – walking sticks in hand- were powering through. The Monterosso to Vernazza trail duped many of us. However, we were the only ones in jeans.
Vernazza was undeniably beautiful, but it’s widely touted as “the pearl of the Cinque Terre” and the shear number of people visiting really spoiled its beauty. There are a lot of people who come to the Cinque Terre area on day trips and, in their limited time, I think they all hit Vernazza. We were SO grateful we were staying in Monterosso. It was much more of a low-key, hometown vibe.
We ate lunch and bought a ticket to take the boat back to Monterosso. Ah, a relaxing boat ride. Well, we got on the wrong boat and went an hour in the opposite direction. We had no idea where this boat was going; we just knew it wasn’t going back toward our town. At first it was fun, “Yay, a long boat ride that we didn’t have to pay for! Go, us!” After 1.5+ hours of making our way back to Monterosso on the train, we were over our “free” ride.
There is a listed timetable for the trains, but I think it is more of a goals sheet. They are SO unpredictable. Switzerland was the exact opposite. You could literally set your watch by the train schedule. When the second-hand on the train clock clicked over for to the appropriate minute, the train pulled up. It was freakishly accurate. Here, they are 10-20 minutes late. However, the tickets are ¼ of the price, but I guess you get what you pay for.
Once we got back to Monterosso, we went to our hotel terrace and broke out the leftover wine we stuffed in our suitcase from Michelle’s tradeshow. We knew it would come in handy! We kept hearing this great music from a distance – it sounded like a band warming up. We walked to town later and came up on an orchestra that was playing in the square. One night a disco, the next an orchestra – Monterossso is the place to be! We ended the night with a huge pot of seafood risotto that was delicious. It almost made us forget our “stroll” to Vernazza. Almost.
Our last day in Monterosso was the exact opposite of our “stroll”. We vegged on the beach most of the day with mojitios and books in hand and then ended the day with some shopping before we packed our bags to head home.
The Italian trains proved to be our nemesis once again on our 2+ hour ride to the Genoa airport. We jumped off at Levanto and then frantically jumped back on when we (by we, I mean Michelle) realized that we needed to stay on until Levante. I might still be in Levanto if it weren’t for Michelle; I thought we got there awfully quickly. At the Levante station, we couldn’t find our train to Genoa. We only had 10 minutes. We saw a lady frantically looking for the same train. She spoke Italian, so surely she knew what she was doing. We followed her blindly and ran like crazy people; lugging 50 lb bags up and down stairs like our life (or flight) depended on it. We got on our train seconds before the departure time. And then we sat there for 20 minutes before it left the station. Good times.
The crazy, not-so-perfect stories are what make the trip so fantastic and memorable. I had a blast, and I’m so grateful that after 35+ years of friendship, Michelle and I get to keep experiencing these things together!

















