Riomaggiore, Italy. It is a beautiful small town I visited about 7 summers ago with a sort of friend, Tiffany. The actual-friend I was supposed to travel with became ill right before we had to leave and so Tiffany and I lost our common bond, and the buffer. It was kind of an awkward trip, we definitely were not compatible travelers but we were extremely polite. So, we each suffered in silence and by the end of the trip I'm sure she wanted to kill me as much as I wanted to kill her. (i.e. I speak French and so she wouldn't speak to anyone in any French speaking country, that was my "job", insert eye roll here.)
Anyways, Riomaggiore is part of a chain of 5 towns: Cinque Terre. The towns are connected by a hiking trail as well as a train system. The hiking trails get more difficult the farther you travel so Tiffany and I decided to take the train to the last town and travel back, that way it would be easiest at the end of the day.
I couldn't possibly describe how beautiful this place is. It is a beyond-picturesque hike through mountain-side citrus orchards with amazing ocean views. It was a difficult hike though, almost entirely uphill to the next town and the path was very "rustic", often you would be looking down a sheer drop off a cliff straight into the ocean; it was treacherous to say the least. But we were prepared: we had water bottles and backpacks, proper footwear, hats and lots of sun screen. By the time we reached Volastra, the next town, we were exhausted and sweaty. We took a break, had lunch and went back on the trail.
I don't know if you remember the summer of 2003 but it was the year that flip flops with heels were all the rage (apparently that was also the year that common sense was out of fashion). I only mention this because as we traveled this next part of the trail we came across an Italian man and his wife. What we saw defied all logic and sense and unfortunately lived up to every Italian stereotype. The man was a portly fellow wearing a white dress shirt, unbuttoned to the waist, hairy chest covered in gold chains, speaking Italian at a rapid fire pace. Following was (I presume) his wife. Tall, brunette, olive skin, too much makeup and wearing (now we're hiking remember...) a bathing suit, sheer sarong tied around her waist, large sunglasses and heeled flip flops. We were almost at the town and I figured they'd just started out and had no idea what they were in for. (Later on, we met up with some travellers who passed them later on that day and the Italian couple was just finishing the trail, so bravo to them I guess). Those cultural differences: a Canadian needs $200 worth of MEC equipment to do what an Italian woman can do in a bathing suit and high heels.
We only made it to the second last town that day, the heat and exhaustion drove us to pack it in early. We took the train back to Riomaggiore where we shared a big seafood meal with a girl we'd met earlier that week (actually the restaurant can be seen in the picture, about halfway up on the left side there's a brick semi-circle and that's the patio of the restaurant where we ate). We decided that we would finish the trail the next day and to find the trail head after dinner. We walked towards where it should have been but the sidewalk didn't end. We continued on for about 15 minutes on the paved sidewalk, looking for the trail when we approached a group of cafes. We asked a local where the path started and learned that we had just walked from Riomaggiore to Manarola, the second town. The path was paved that entire section of the trail and we could have just finished it that afternoon if we weren't such wussies.
This is listed as one of the 1000 places to see before you die and it's true. It's so beautiful here, it's one of my favourite travel memories and one of the places I would like to see again before I die.
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