The original Riviera

The French Riviera, or Cote d'Azur, is known as THE beach resort in Europe to get away to. The Brits made it popular in the 18th century when they all flocked to the French Riviera to recover from health problems like consumption or tuberculosis. Back in the late 16oo's, before it was on the map, the stretch of beach in SE France was just a little sleepy fishing village. It took note of its Roman heritage, its statues and amphitheater left over from the days of Emperor Augustus and decided they needed a name for their village that would reflect their culture. So France "borrowed" and eventually kept her sister's clothes, so to speak. They extended Italy's original shimmering blue silk waters and miles of sandy cloth, known as the Italian Riviera, (an Italian word meaning "coast") and made it their own. Voila, the French Riviera was born.

In need of hearing the sound of the ocean to drown out the sound of city life in our heads, we hopped a train to go see the beautiful Mediterranean waters along the Italian Riviera in a place called Cinque Terre (literally 5 lands--or 5 villages that cling to the cliffs above the beach) This train wasn't the fancy Eurostar but a local train that burrowed through mountainous tunnels paralleling the ocean.

Our first stop of the 5 villages was Monterosso (red mountain)

It was such a gorgeous day, and felt like summer, we shed our winter coats within minutes.

We all stood mesmerized by sunshine, (we've had so much rain in Rome) the soothing waves and the fresh smell... not briny or fishy but just clean mountain air.

The homes were cheerful and brightly painted. And the combination of mountainous cliffs and beach reminded us of Guam. We felt a small tugging at the heart at the remembrance of a "home" left behind. This reminder was especially apparent when we saw a WWII bunker left over from the war, in the cliff, facing the water. (We are so blessed in the North America not to have scars of wars on our shores or continent.) We had to laugh at the coincidence, because on the drive to the train station, we passed a village called "Guamo." (In this case it fit the old joke that the way to speak Italian is just to add an "O" at the end of everything.)

We walked into the small village and poked around before taking the train to the 2nd village of Cinque Terre on the Italian Riviera called Vernazza.

We enjoyed the ocean spray of the rocks in Vernazza and looking at the tiny boats with cats sunbathing in them. We bought some water and pizza for our two hour hike along the cliff line on an ancient footpath called Sentiero Azzurro. There are no roads to drive between the 5 villages just steep trails that start in town and hug the cliffs. These steps lead to steeper steps called arpaie.

When we were out of breath, we stopped and turned around and this was the view: spellbinding. Monterosso al Mare north in the distance and Vernazza below

I must have murmured my thoughts out loud 'that I could be happy just living in this tower by the ocean," because Steve climbed past and said "not unless it has cable, Internet, phone and an elevator."

We climbed on and I was simultaneously enthralled and scared at the drop off to the rocks below. There was no guard rail to keep the kids from falling, or clumsy me for that matter.

Our pause-and-catch-your-breath views as we scaled the steep trail.

We were surprised that there was cactus on the cliff line. Maybe planted there so you don't get too near the edge or perhaps just a diversion of pain in case you slipped and are plunging to your death.As the terrain got more rugged, we continued to take off more and more clothes... Pete paid Trevor to carry his coat --- I think they finally agreed on 6 Euros (which Trevor promptly spent on food at the end of the trip)

At one point we could see the train tracks below and I was waiting for someone to start complaining and a wishin' we were on the train instead of hiking but I didn't hear a peep! Everyone was enjoying the journey. Made me a little teary with joy.

Around every bend was a prettier view...

At one point there was a sign that said nude beach below: hour walk. I'm sure it was full of German's. Last time we were on a trip and accidentally stumbled upon naked swimmers, they were all German. Italian woman don't wear their tops, but they certainly keep on their bottoms.

Toplessness is one of those things that I don't think I'll adopt "when in Rome...."

The third village of Cinque Terre Corniglia beckoned us on.

But we had to do some more uphill before we could descend

A rare moment, tireless billy goat Trevor, who has to arrive every where first, paused to look at the blue ocean. He is my water baby. At 2 yrs of age, I found him at the bottom of Rast's swimming pool calmly blowing bubbles just looking up at me. At 6 he was learning to surf in Hawaii and at 10 he was diving with the Barracuda and sharks in the Pacific ocean. I'm sure he wishing it was warm enough in the ocean to go snorkeling.

Photographer Elite Pete kept up the rear. His keen eye captured all the great shots, but unfortunately his camera did not. His batteries were dead!

Steve also has an artistic eye and spotted these pretty red berries.

The water bottles were empty at this point and I was surprised yet again that there wasn't a single murmur!

Everyone just kept on climbing. I fell down at one slippery/muddy point and started busting up laughing. I said a pray of thanks that there were no cacti nearby.

I came around one bend and saw Trevor half on and half off this narrow cliff edge with a vertical drop below....my heart did the vertical drop into my stomach. He just smiled and bound to his feet and ran off. Like a true grown up I hugged the wall where he was tempting fate earlier.

We came into this olive orchard near the end of our hike. They spread these nets to catch the falling olives. It was like stepping into a dream it was so peaceful.

Trevor paused to pet a cat and wait for us slow-pokes.

If he had his way he would have brought the grey beast home.

Along with well fed strays, the last of the trail had nice rock paths and clovers

and while we were glad to have made our destination, alive, it was with mixed emotions we left our ocean view trail.

The cute little village of Corniglia had farming terraces and impressive stone walls and buildings.

And it afforded us a pretty amazing sunset as we sat and waited for the train to take us to our next village Manarola.

Manarola is linked to the 5th town Riomaggiore by a famous Via dell'Amore: Street of Love. Sweethearts of all ages stroll it's famous boardwalk. Pete and the kids were like to vomit so they skipped this and headed back to the main train stop to give us our time together. Ray was great to come along and photograph. We couldn't have asked for a prettier sunset over the ocean.

It is understandable why the great poets, like Yeats and DH Lawrence lived near here in the Gulf of La Spezia. In fact poor Shelly was shipwrecked nearby in Viareggio and drowned.

The romantic side of me would have loved Steve to mesmerize me with dazzling love lines in Italian but, alas he only knows the silly Jabberwalky by Louis Carrol in English. Laughter is the next best thing, I suppose. (Tho, I keep telling Brendan and Trevor they need to memorize Italian sonnets for future girlfriends. Words of adoration and love in Italian melt the heart. Case in point, Austrian Prince Joseph Franz said he spoke Spanish to his court, German to his horse and Italian to his lovers) In the end, with the dusk dancing in, the landscape was poetry enough on its own.

A stone statue of kissing heads at the trails end. A perfect end for a perfect day.

" E’en then, elate, my spirit leaps, and prances, E’en then my soul with exultation dances. For that to love, so long, I’ve dormant lain: But when I see thee meek, and kind, and tender, Heavens! how desperately do I adore Thy winning graces;— Might I be loved by thee...." Keats