We have started to become familiar if not comfortable with train stations. After our first experience with Milan, everything else seems calm by comparison. The combination of masses of people scurrying in every direction, seemingly everyone smoking, the incessant echoic din of the three repeating commercials on big screen TV's combined to elicit an anxiety level to which we had to learn to accommodate.
We found our train faster this time and hopped in even though it was a half an hour before departure time. Our seats were opposite one another in a six seat enclosed compartment. Once in the ultimately relative quiet of the train car, we were able to settle into a quiet lunch of salad, seafood medley in heavy oil (hint: bring a roll of paper towels), olives, bay shrimps and half bottle of wine. For a luxurious 20 minutes we reveled in our meal. When done, I had just enough time to gather it all up and deposit it in the trash on the platform before our compartment mates found their way in. We were delighted at our timing being able to eat and clean up just prior to the arrival of the others.
The two hour trip to Rapallo was pretty quiet as everyone seemed to protect their personal spaces. However, a half an hour outside of Genoa we pulled out our Italy map. The lady across from us – a Colleen Dewhurst lookalike – suddenly took an interest when we wondered aloud what river we were crossing. She become progressively more animated as she showed us all the Tuscan towns surrounding Florence she felt we should visit. We ended up exchanging cards when we learned she also was on the way to Rapallo to be with her husband. It was our first prolonged encounter with someone who spoke practically no “Inglese” but with whom we had a significant and lively interaction.
Upon arrival at the Rapallo train station, we were immediately enchanted with what was obviously a resort town. Once out of the station, we bought our Cinque Terre train tickets. They allowed us six hours of travel between the towns of Riomaggiore and Monterosso del Mar.
We easily found a taxi (most Mercedes wagons) who, for 14 Euros whisked us a whole three blocks to the entrance of the Hotel Vesuvio. I was a bit taken aback by the cost but the man at the reception desk assured me 10 Euros plus 1 per bag was typical.
The assistant guided us to our room – top floor in the corner and we knew we had nailed it: two oceanfront balconies with louvered windows with marbled verandas with sculpted corbels and railings. The sea air was rejuvinating and despite some traffic noise from the street below, the enchanting views more than made up for it.
It took us only a few minutes before we were out the door and plying the narrow streets. This was Italy! Everywhere we looked were small shops selling everything from pasta to pets, open market stalls with exotic fruits and packaged foods wrapped in plastic with indecipherable writing.
Up until now, I had come to believe that Italy was just a step above Mexico. It, too, is the land of 'manana'. The infrastructure, as typified in the Milan Estacione Central, was lacking in some pretty obvious ways - benches, lousy direction boards for determination of where your train was, the constant din of cheesy commercials, surly information booth workers, and the need for constant vigilance of pickpockets and beggars.
Now, here we were in Rapallo which, for all intents and purposes, was well-run, had excellent infrastructure and most important, was technologically up-to-date with Wi-Fi instantly available and where boats and trains ran on time. Many people spoke English and were cheerful and helpful.
I don't quite recall how we decided to stay in Rapallo. Our original intent was to stay somewhere in the Cinque Terre. However, the guide books warned us the accommodations in each of the small towns were 'an adventure'. One of the luxuries Margi is generally unwilling to give up is a bathtub and none of the places we found there offered one. Some of the other nearby towns offered quality rooms but didn't have the range of choices available in Rapallo. It seemed sheer luck that we should have ended up in the choicest of all the port towns near the 'five lands'.
Next morning, we walked five minutes to the train station in time to catch the train to Riomaggiore. This is translated “Major River” although we learned it has been centuries since the river flowing through town was a major river. Now it's more like a stream. However, pictures we have seen of the Mediterranean in winter suggest it could, at times become a torrent.
It took nearly 1.5 hours to reach Riomaggiore after eight or ten stops at the other towns. While this was second class travel, the seats were still comfortable if not as clean or spacious as other train seats we had enjoyed. Once off the train, we headed up a case of very old stairs to buy our park tickets. These would allow us to walk the park and take all public transportation other than the train the ran between the towns.
The walkway to Manarola was narrow and precipitous. It was also stunning. The sheer cliffs down to the sea were easily 200 feet and the trail had been sculpted from the mountain. In some parts, it ran through tunnels. At one point there was an opening with a bench to which dozens of locks had been permanently attached to the legs with love affirmations – a symbol we had first discovered in Como and which was to become a recurring theme of our trip.
Ten minutes into our walk, we spied Manarola in the distance. At that moment, I realized we had completely missed Riomaggiore and headed back in the other direction. After our arrival back at the ticket station, we headed through a long tunnel about 500 feet long. Along the walls were the most beautiful ceramic, shall and granite mosaics we had ever seen. They consisted primarily of ocean scenes, depictions of shells and sea life. It motivated me to create something similar when we got back home. We'll see.
Once in Riomaggiore, I knew why this area has been deemed a historic and protected park. This town, and the others I was to learn, were ancient fishing and grape-growing villages set on rugged cliffs. Its complete lack of building codes resulted in structures being built 'higgledy-piggledy' on top and beside one another. The colorful paint., mostly of yellows, beiges and reds were faded and chipping to reveal brickwork and stucco beneath.
Narrow, cobbled streets features shops from typical touristy stores selling postcards and trinkets to jewelry, clothing and art shops worth a second look. Everywhere were pizza and gelato establishments but the unique architecture in an unique location were worth everything else we had to endure.
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