Manarola, Corniglia, and Opera

We awoke the next morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, excited to explore the wondrous coast of the Mediterranean.  After a quick breakfast consisting of some food bought in a grocery store the previous day, we headed to the train station and on to Manarola, two towns south of our destination point.  We decided that we could comfortably hike back to Corniglia and then take the train back from there, and so with great anticipation we waited for our six minute train ride to end.

Each of the towns of Cinque Terre are obviously formed by much the same climate and geographic realities.  The terrain is so rough, however, that citizens of one town often did not ever see any of the others.  A millennia of virtual separation led to different languages, and with all the ubiquity of geography and structure around us, there was still this pervading feeling of a preserved world unique and isolated from anything else every time we entered a new town.

We went through the Rick Steves' walk of the town and saw the small, humble church, the road built right over a stream, and the small cemetery.  Manarola is somewhat unique in that the town follows an elevation change and land contour enough that it gives you a view of the harbor you would not necessarily otherwise get.  It rained slightly in the morning and caused us some concern, but before we started trekking up to the main hiking trail that would take us across to the next town, Corniglia, the rain abated and we enjoyed absolutely gorgeous hiking weather.

The sights, were indeed breathtaking.  Rows and rows of lush green vineyards broken only by the colorful buildings of the town against the greenish blue of the Mediterranean below kept us pausing for pictures every couple minutes.  We passed right by people's gardens, which Alex quickly fell in love with, and after an hour or so found ourselves in the small town of Volstra.

Volstra, though not one of the Cinque Terre villages, is contained in the national park and probably predates its coastal cousins.  We enjoyed walking around some of its narrow streets and visited its small Romanesque church dating back to the twelfth century.  Another interesting thing we noted was the small soccer field next to the church, the first flat piece of flatland we had observed exclusively designated for play.

Around 2:30 we arrived in Corniglia.  Arthur rejoiced that this small town had two small churches to visit while Alex rolled her eyes, but both of us were equally excited to try out the local cuisine.  At a local market recommended by none other than the great Rick Steves we purchased some sandwiches made with the renowned pesto of the region.  Alex chose a mozzarella cheese for hers while Arthur opted for peccorino, a hard cheese made from sheep milk.  The market owner warned the peccorino would be "forte," or strong, but that just excited Arthur more.  Man, those were great sandwiches.

After finishing off the main course, we headed to the local gelateria for desert.  Again following the advice of Rick Steves, we dined on the specialties of the region, a honey gelato made from local honey, and basil gelato.  This odd combination was incredibly delicious and prompted Alex to commit to learning how to make it when we got back to the states.  Of all the gelato we ate while in Italy, basil gelato was our favorite.  It is a wonderful way to get your veggies with your ice cream.

We explored the town a little more until it was time to head down to the train.  We might have underestimated the time it would take to get down the 300 steps to the station, however, and had it not been for Arthur noticing we could buy tickets directly from the local attendants rather than the automated ticket teller, we would have missed the train.  It was very The Amazing Race-esque.

Back in Vernazza, we prepped for the evenings entertainment: opera.  Alex had found a special event at a small church in Vernazza where for the past two years a concert was put on to raise money for the renovation of the church.  The small church rang with the beautiful renditions provided by two aspiring singers of some of Italy's most beloved arias:

It was a performance even Alex, whose musical tastes do not typically extend to opera, was entranced by.  After the show, one of the performers explained what the cause was for in English, and I was astounded by her lack of Italian inflection, pondering what mastery of voice it would require to eliminate all hint of one's native language.  Turns out she was from California!

After the show, we headed to dinner at one of the local restaurants.  Alex had a wonderful pesto pasta dish while Arthur went with a local seafood platter.  Both were delicious.

All this done, we headed back to our room to do laundry and prepare for the next day's adventures.  Omnia Vincit Amour.

Cinque Terre

Our train was slightly late in getting us to Vernazza, the middle of the five towns comprising Cinque Terre and what would act as our home base for the next three days.  This really wasn't a big deal other than it meant we had to call ahead and let the gentleman we were renting our room from we would be later than expected, and that happened to work fine.

The sun was beginning to set the Mediterranean when we stepped off the train and purplish light met us as we walked down the short main road to where we would be staying.  It was a main road in purely the sense that it was the main road; to American ears this term invokes a road four times as wide as what we were now on.  Cars are not allowed in this town and really aren't necessary.  Shops and restaurants lined the way, the closing evening serving as a time of major activity, and after a walk of no longer than two football fields the street opened to the main square, overlooking the harbor where the sun had just begun to kiss the Mediterranean.

Our host met us in the main square and opened the doors leading up to our rooms.  After about three stories, the last one obtained via spiral staircase, we were brought to our lovely little room with a view of the sun and the Mediterranean in an ever more intimate embrace.  We quickly dropped off our bags and headed back down to take in the atmosphere.  Along the main street we passed a shop selling foccacia, so we bought some slices of various varieties and headed back out to the main street.

We happily munched on our Italian treat as the last rays skimmed the seas surface.  The main square has several restaurants with open air seating on them, and the lights of the city was more than substantial for the children to play by in the main street.  As we would soon learn, Cincque Terrre provides hills and trees galore, but precious few patches of flat ground for any sort of ball game.  For generations of children from Vernazza, the city square was probably the flattest piece of land they ever saw.

Alex did a great job on this vacation of mixing the architecture and feats of man with the natural beauty of Italy, and that is a feat.  It would be easy to go to Italy and see nothing but the bustle and activity of Rome and/or Florence, and that would be a great trip.  It would absolutely neglects the Dolomite mountains in the north, the beauty of the coast, and the acres and acres given over to scenic vineyards, olives, apples, and wheat.  It is absolutely stunning standing before the architecture manifesting the ideas and dreams of one man worked out by hundreds if not thousands of workers over the course of perhaps a hundred years.  It is another sensation to see the works of nature and contemplate the sovereignty of nature's God.

Cincque Terre is unique in that it is a middle point between those two extremes.  It is a natural landscape purposely and deliberately fashioned by man over a thousand years.  Without the use of modern equipment, peasants since before the fall of Rome spent their lives forming terraces to hold in place their vineyards and olive trees.  Without central planning, the lifework of untold generations merge to form uninterrupted walls holding in cubic kilometers of soil brought up steep cliffs from the sea on the backs of grandfathers and great-great grandfathers.

From a philosophical bent, I think back fondly on that site, a metaphor of sorts for what I want my life to look like and what I hope we as builders of the kingdom of God are producing.  Little will remain of my works physically, but look what a thousand years of effort produces!  May every day see me building up walls and caring for the sphere of influence God provides.

Anyway, we will see more of this in the coming posts.  For now, I'll leave you with the young travelers awaiting morning light and the adventures in store.  Omnia Vincit Amour.