The BLT Guidebook

We reached the Cinque Terre under the fading sun. Having hopped off the train in distress after losing part of my belongings to the overhead compartment (a small part- but it still stung), I paused, turning to see the ocean, light reflecting off the rocks outlining the edge of this town- the town of Riomaggiore. That moment was why we were here. To experience the Italian coast.

Not knowing where to go right away, we crossed the double-track railway below and ventured into the ~1500 person village. Frustration was subsiding regarding my belongs as we passed the information center and entered the tunnel leading us to the main street of town. This tunnel screamed coastal town to me- with its pieced mosaics and bright blue ceiling.

We emerged out of it to see a woman standing there- the only person on this street- waiting for us. She greeted us and hustled to get us to our apartment before the sun went down, wanting us to enjoy our first sunset here. The streets were not streets but stoned walkways turning in all directions. Steps on top of steps and houses on top of houses. We trekked upward until we could see the ocean in the distance, leveled with the houses on the hills across the town.

After all the unlocking, we stepped into the main level. A set of stairs leading one way, a set of stairs leading the other. Everything glass and bright. The kitchen was outfitted with another set of stairs to the patio next to a picture window. From the kitchen, the sun was falling slowly over the horizon. “I’ll let you two enjoy what’s left of the sunset.” With that, she was gone.

We did enjoy what was left of the sun, gazing around the patio at the water, the apartments across, the church on the hill. Lemons dangling from a tree under our kitchen window. After days of feeling sinus pressure and general tiredness of traveling, the fresh air was welcome.

It was time to explore and embrace the steps to the main street- Via Colombo- again. The streets were silent in the cold December air- the town’s off-season vibes wrapping around us. Left took us back to the main tunnel to the only place that seemed open- Dellara Franca- a small supermarket from the looks of the outside. Inside, we were greeted by a kind man behind the butchers counter who told us “no, no, no, this is what you want” when we inquired about mortadella and proceeded to cut the cold cuts for two people accordingly. As he was doing this, we looked around, noting the local wines and homemade pestos and limoncellos from the region. It seemed we stumbled upon a gem, indeed.

A little while later in the cold night air, we walked the main strip to see what was open. One direction was towards the water where younger locals were pouring out of a restaurant and bar at the water’s edge. Music filled the streets. The other direction was quiet- threads of hanging Christmas lights lit the darkened walkway. A few locals gathered in a restaurant, open, but only take out. No one was eating, but everyone dining in enjoying beverages of their choice- from wine to espresso. The unsaid words spoken as we waited for our food. Locals only? Possibly. Wine and pesto greeted us as we climbed those steps once again.

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A moka pot was a welcome site, reminding us of the one in our tiny Rome apartment the days before. The warmth of the coffee welcome before we were exposed to the frigid air, the sun barely making its way into the sky. Vernazza was three stops north. The most picturesque of all five towns. According to somebody, somewhere.

The town was still in shadows, quiet, no tourists except us, wandering the street. Stores were closed, no place to sit, owners sweeping, sitting outside, enjoying their own peace with the cool air flowing in. The port was larger than Riomaggiore, a harbor wall wrapping around in a half embrace to give you the picturesque view of town and sea. With the slow winter trains, our timeline was intentional. Within one hour, we were waiting for the train to take us south two stops.

Manarola. The sun and a flock of tourists greeted us. The most people we’ve seen since the previous afternoon. They turned toward the ocean, with their guide, as we ascended Via Antonio Discovolo to nowhere in particular, the sun warming our way. Stone houses faded from years of warmth and water with natural-colored shudders lined the way past souvenir shops and apartments. As we curved upward, we were met with small terraces on the steep hill. The “Ampitheater of the Giants.”

A couple set outside of a semi-enclosed porch, enjoying what looked like coffee. Locals only? We stepped in, greeted with warmth and a smile. No, not quite. Two pastries and cappuccinos later, we enjoyed the small wine bar, Cappun Magru, nestled between the terraces to the left and the small church- Chiesa di San Lorenzo- to the right.

While descending Via Antonio Discovoloso, shops and eateries opened. The town stirring. Tourists slowing to look into windows. Mentally, we marked our next stops as we continued to a viewpoint. The famous postcard picture. The view wrapped upward to the terrace of a restaurant, Nessun Dorma, a window on one side and a welcome sign on the other.

hello,
TODAY IS A GOOD DAY
to be happy.

No one else was there, as we looked at the postcard town and the blue of the Ligurian Sea, focaccia and wine accompanying us. Yes, today was a good day to be happy.

The sun was high in the sky as we ascended Via Antonio Discovoloso for the second time, passing the train station walkway. This time we will walk back using Via Beccara- rooftop sunsets, cold cuts, and limoncello awaiting us. (And unbeknownst to us at the time, a patio cat.) Passed the church lived a small walkway, an arrow on the wall pointing us in the right direction: “Riomaggiore: 1.0 [miles]. The steps took us up and up, eye-to-eye with the terraced hills, the town a fishbowl below.

The terrain was well-loved as we moved from step-to-step and in between the trees. 0.25 miles to go, another arrow told us. This arrow was at the descend, the town of Riomaggiore waiting for us, faded pastel colors of old stone homes and the ocean blue water to match the sky.

We found ourselves on Via Colombo again, a few locals tending to their errands, kids running around the streets, laughing softly. A small wine bar was open, so we finished off some of the afternoon light on that street, watching the few people who graced us with their presence, enjoying the wine made from the grapes of those terraces.

Back at the apartment, Limoncello was a must on the patio as the sun was setting, signifying a close to our day. The cold cuts and pasta from Dellara Franca waiting for us.

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To see the full itinerary for our winter trip to Italy, please go here.

Thanks for reading! -C