Grazie to Merci

Today was a travel day from Riomaggiore, Italy to Nice, France. The long journey of 5 hours began around 9am and finished close to 4pm. Fortunately on my way out of town I ran into Mu and Hannah both of whom I met in Napoli and hiked Mt. Vesuio with. They had arrived yesterday, stayed in the same hostel as me, but in 3 different buildings our paths didn't cross. It was great to catch up with them before taking the train to Genova and then Ventimiglia: the last town before the Italy/France border. From there I would catch a more local train to Nice.

It was a smooth trip to Genova and I was able to get some quality reading done in my Jane Austen book. Pride and Prejudice down, Mansfield Park up next. I met another traveler from Minnesota about my age heading to Lake Como. Having a 45 minute wait for the next part of my journey I snagged a salami sandwich and chowed down on some olive crackers and these tasty wheat cookies I found in Riomaggiore. Made for a good lunch.

The trip to Ventimiglia was slow as this is one of the only trains that passes through many of hte smaller towns on the way toward France. We hit every stop and sometimes sat there for 20 minutes. You could tell when we were close to France. The architecture changed from the straight forward Italian to more embellished paintings around windows and cornices. Windows took a narrower and taller shape. House colors faded out a bit from the Italian brights.

It's strange transitioning from one country to another. Gearing up for a new language by learning new phrases and numbers starts to tax your brain. You gain a new perspective on the country you were just in by encountering a new culture. Italians are passionate and easily spurred to emotional responses from what I've witnessed. Their language flows together, but is easy to distinguish words. People speak relatively slow unless agitated or upset.

Sentences and syllables are drawn out for emphasis. Whenever public transit has arrived they move forward in a mob as if that will somehow help everyone getting on or improve their chance at getting a seat. There's usually one person (often elderly) who will stand right in front of the door to be first. Often there is a conversation with a nearby person about how they are somehow entitled to get in before anyone else.

The usual anxieties of making sure you detrain at the right stop accompanied my travel. All went well and I arrived in Nizza (Italian) or Nice (French). The hostel was literally down the street and around the corner from the train station. I was glad I didn't have to drag my bags around or try to figure out how to use the transit system just yet. With all my gear settled, I went out to find some dinner at a restaurant my guidebook suggested. La Table
Alziari in Old Town is a citrusy colorful place with really good food. I sampled the fried goat cheese salad (slice of goat cheese on a piece of thick bread grilled together) and a stew with carrots and mushrooms over pasta. I think the meat was lamb since the menu didn't mention boeuf (beef--learned this one from Julie and Julia). What a tasty meal! The stew was rich and meaty and the salad was light and pungent. It was a long walk to get here (about a half hour), but definitely worth it!

The Five Villages

I checked out of the hostel in Genova and decided to take the bus all the way to the Brignole Station instead of trying to navigate my way via bus to the Principe Station. Trains to Cinque Terre leave from both stations, so no problem there. The train was mostly empty until we got close to the 5 villages that are situated in Cinque Terre National Park. Even then, there was still plenty of space. Once I arrived in Riomaggiore (the last of the 5 villages counting from the N), I walked through a long tunnel decorated in mosaics with tile and rocks depicting scenes of Cinque Terre to get to the main part of town. From there it was a steep uphill climb to where the hostel was. It was taxing, but could have been worse. The room has 6 beds and isn't too bad. Kitchenette, bathroom, TV and free laundry are all part of this room. Kind of excited to wash some clothes.

The park was set up to preserve the fragile coastline in this part of Italy. I'm not sure why it was endangered or why it's so fragile. Any information I have come across in the town where I am staying has been in Italian. It is beautiful coastline. Jagged rocks with striated patterns stick out along the water where they are pounded by the teal blue sea water. The rocks have multi-colored bands running through them of yellows, greys and blacks. Everywhere you look along the coast are picture perfect views. Two men in thick sweaters and orange-yellow waders pick through their fishing net. Boats of every color line one of the streets down by the water's edge where a string of orange buoys marks the way out into the sea. The houses rise like brightly colored red, orange, yellow, green, peach and cream towers from the rocky hillsides terraced into various levels with staircases, elevators and ramped streets linking them together.

Being such a small town, though the largest of the 5 villages, there is a limited supply of food items available. Two small street shops supply most needs, but bread is hard to come by and I haven't seen any fresh meat--only luncheon meat [which I'm still not ready to eat after the Bologna dinner incident]. For dinner I wanted to make a concerted effort to use up my 500g box of rice that I've carried with me since Firenze as I have been without cooking facilities. The famed dish of the area is pasta and pesto. I thought "Why not try rice and pesto? I can call it Italian Rice when I open up my cafe someday." Having learned in Firenze that I need to limit how much I buy so I can actually eat it in the days allotted, I chose some pesto, a small red pepper and two tiny zucchinis to garnish my rice. With some olive oil and garlic it all turned out pretty good for not having spices and in about an hour. The only improvement I would make is to add a bit of salt and pepper. Surprisingly the pesto added a great flavor with the sweetness of the pepper.

Not wanting to spend the entire evening indoors, I went for a walk after dinner thinking I might get some gelato if the shop was still open. I discovered that a coop shop across the street was miraculously open. Both branches 1 and 2 were closed this afternoon. I wandered in hoping to find some bread for breakfast and walked out with raisin loaded focaccia, peach juice boxes and some crunchy, lightly sugared cookies. I walked to a nearby bench and opened the cookies right away. The cookies really hit the spot. Just enough sweetness and lots of crunch. Yum. I also located two churches I could check out tomorrow for Pascqua (Easter). Originally I think I had intended to be in a larger town to see the pageantry of Pascqua in Italy or France, but I think a small resort town celebration will be equally interesting.

Passing Through

It's surprising how much you can grow to like a city in only 3 days. I'm saddened to leave Venezia, but I have heard much of the beauties of Cinque Terre that I must go see for myself. Now having become a water bus master, I easily boarded the boat with all my luggage and promptly arrived at the train station in 10 minutes. I secured a train ticket to Genova with a change in Milano for a total travel time of about 5 hours. I was guaranteed a seat on the first half of the trip, but not the second.

Not much to report. The train ride was uneventful for the first part. It was a Eurostar train, so nicer and newer cars with very few people on board. I read a good portion of Pride and Prejudice as the scenery was mostly towns and little else to see. We did pass a lovely portion near Densazen, I think that's what the train station sign said. It was hard to catch as we flew by it. The town was gorgeous. In the background were grey puffy clouds and strikingly cut jagged mountains with snow on top. Below all of this was rolling green ground and finally at the end the town with its bright buildings popping out of the ground in stark contrasts of red, peach and yellow surrounding some kind of water. It all looked like a puzzle box picture. Gone too quickly for me to dig out my camera.

All I saw of Milano was the train station which was extremely large with an occluded glass ceiling. I had 20 minutes before the next train left to Genova and I hoped to grab a seat and be one of the lucky ones to not have to give it up to a person with a reservation. I sat long enough to eat some granola and sure enough a lady came with a ticket for the seat I was in. Fortunately I was early enough to have plenty of room for all my luggage in one place. I ended up standing the whole 2 hours to Genova. I was glad I could stick near my bags and was able to lean up against a luggage rack enough to half sit on it so not all of my weight was on my feet.

From the Principe train station in Genova I had to take the lift and then bus 40 to the hostel. Turns out the lift is a box that rolls up the hillside and around the corner to a shaft where it rolls into a carrier that turns it into an elevator and takes you up through the mountainside. It was very cool. I've never seen anything like it. Right up there in the levels of odd excitement like the washing machine elevators that take you to the top of the St. Louis Arch. The bus 40 stop was conveniently right outside the lift exit--awesome! After a good 15 minute wait the bus did arrive and dropped me off right at the hostel as expected.

Genova doesn't have much to explore or write about from what I can tell. Still battling my cold for day 3 now, I decided to hang inside and do some investigating on the internet for the next portion of my trip. Dinner consisted of a boxed meal from the hostel of chicken, potatoes and marinara sauce. Surprisingly it was quite filling. The bed is much softer than the one in Venice so I'm hoping for a good night's sleep to fight this cold.