Cinque Terre and Exploring the Rhine Valley by Rachele

Arriving in Wiesbaden, I was prepared for certain cultural adjustments. After all, I had been to Germany before—bathrooms you have to pay to use, coca cola light instead of diet coke, water with ‘gas’, and an over abundance of consonants thrown together haphazardly. What I had not anticipated was having to adjust to how ruthless and focused on hasty efficiency Kate and Justin have become since moving to Europe. For instance, despite the fact that I left for the airport at 3am Wednesday/Thursday and didn’t arrive until 7am Friday AND the fact that I had to wake up again at 3am Friday/Saturday to catch our flight to Italy where we would immediately begin a 2.5 hour hike, Kate refused to let me have an afternoon nap or go to bed early. Then, the following morning, in my hazy stupor, I discovered that Justin and Kate have the ability to walk an incredible 10 mph when they are trying to arrive somewhere “on time” so I had to jog to keep up with them walking from the parking lot to the airport and then through the airport to our gate.

The Cinque Terre, our Italian destination, are five coastal villages in the province of La Spezia in the Liguria region of Italy. "Discovered" by foreigners in the late 20th century, they have come to be among the most popular areas of Italy among tourists. The coastline, the five villages—each of which are inhabited by only around 500 people, and the surrounding hillsides are all encapsulated in a national park by the same name.

Centuries old footpaths and mule tracks wind about 500 to 1,000 feet above the sea, leading through olive groves and vineyards, orchards and chestnut woods. There are almost no cars as the villages are not easily accessible by road, but the main railway between Rome and Paris runs along the coast, mainly in tunnels.

In spite of being mildly traumatized that first day, I was thoroughly impressed with the first Cinque Terre town, Monterosso, where the train dropped us off and which sat right on a gorgeous white sand Mediterranean beach. After debating for five minutes or so whether or not to change into our suits and plop ourselves onto the beach, we decided instead to set off on our hike to the second town, Vernazza, where we had a room for the night. The trail took us up into the terraced hill/cliffside and then curved around the coast before winding back down to drop us off in Vernazzo. Albeit beautiful, the first hike was essentially climbing up stairs for 1.5 hours in the hot sun before climbing down stairs for another 45 minutes or so in the hot sun.

As astonishing as the views from the trail, was the immense amount sweat Kate’s body produced after just a short time hiking and the utter lack of sweat that Justin’s produced. By the time we were approaching Vernazzo, Kate had begun to make the trail unsafe for other travelers because her t-shirt was so soaked, it was dripping profusely and making the rocks slippery. I have to admit that I was only slightly less drenched, but through some genetic mutation, Justin merely glowed and gave off a flowery fresh smell.

From there the day became much less painful and we relaxed on the beach and then at one of the café’s until dinner time when pasta began calling our names.
Since the trails between the towns got progressively shorter, we set out to see all three of the remaining towns the following morning. After slightly less stair climbing than the previous day, we got to Corniglia and wandered in and out of the pretty cobblestone streets before finding a small restaurant where Justin could get an anchovy sandwich for lunch. The next town, Monarola was similar to the others, but was built higher up in the cliffs so there were amazing views of the coastline but no beach. The last town, Riomaggiore, was where we spent our second night and although it did have a beach, instead of sand, there was nothing but softball size rocks for you to comfortably sprawl out on.

Actually, despite having to carefully arrange our rock beds before spreading out our towels, the beach was in this beautiful cove and we had a great time daring each other to “go all the way in” to the freezing Mediterranean.

In addition to the beach, Riomaggiore was also home to Scrappy, a dog I at first mistook for a cat and then tried to adopt from his local fisherman owner. Kate and Justin said they thought he was hideous, but I’m sure they were kidding.

As reluctant as we were to leave Italy the following morning, we took the train to Piza and took the requisite pushing the tower over/the tower coming out of our pants pictures before heading to the airport where an enormous bird robot waited to devour us. Back safe and sound in Wiesbaden, the last two days of my trip were spent relaxing and poking around downtown Wiesbaden, traipsing through the Rhine river valley’s vineyards with Kate and Pecos, and exploring a couple small towns along the river. Kate shared her favorite town, Bacharach, with me, the name of which apparently came from the townspeople’s love of famed singer, composer, and pianist Burt Bacharach. Bacharach was picturesque with pretty gardens, little bridges and a castle overlooking the town, but I preferred the town (whose name I can’t remember at the moment) where I was able to make the acquaintance of Ausfahrt, the lawn gnome. All in all, the trip was a wonderful mix of activity and rest all framed by gorgeous landscapes and sparkly blue water. I miss you guys!