A stupidly early train took me to Milan
and (not having enough money to shop) from there to Genoa,
where I was staying overnight at a B&B in the dodgy part of town
overlooking the docks. Wandering past people drinking out on the sidewalk while
lugging my life on my back and desperately scanning the doors for a tiny
handwritten sign of the B&B is not my idea of a good time. But the owners
were lovely and I ended up with the whole apartment to myself. Dumped my stuff & headed back out into the glare
and noise of downtown Genoa,
feeling much less like a target without my backpack. I ended up on the main
waterfront piazza where there was a huge food fair being held, and enjoyed some
of the non-local fair (mmm bratwurst rolls) before impulsively jumping onto an
open-air tour bus. I usually never go on these overpriced tourist traps, but
with only an afternoon in Genoa
I wanted to see as much as I could. It was extra embarrassing as there were
only three of us on it and we got the usual stares at all the stops, but I did
learn that Christopher Columbus’ house was nearby, and ended up walking back to
it after the tour.
The following day I caught the train to Cinque Terre, a national park in the northern part of Italy famous for the 5 hour walk through the series of 5 villages perched precariously on the coastal cliffs.
I’d been getting cocky about how easy it was to travel on the trains and got a
wakeup call today. I'd boarded the correct train but the announcer garbled something
unintelligible (I can barely understand them when they speak English let alone
another language) and people got up complaining. Luckily I overheard an
Englishwoman telling her partner that we had to change trains at the next stop
and I quickly made friends with them and traveling to Riomaggiore
together. It pays to keep your ears open!
Arriving at lunchtime, I slogged my way up the steep hill to
the office to check in, and then walked all the way back down through a maze of
narrow alleyways to my dorm room, hidden away in a dark little corner of the
town near the port. Not wanting to waste a beautiful hot day I took some lunch
down to the wharf where I clambered around the wall and onto some rocks to
swelter in the sun. My white English skin was soon protesting though, so I
retreated to the shade of a restaurant overlooking the water for an overpriced
beer, before buying a much larger and cheaper beer from the local shop and
heading down to the pebbly beach to spend the rest of the afternoon. Not brave
enough to swim yet though. A lovely ending to the day was being treated to a pasta dinner by a group of Americans in my hostel.
