Jet Lagged Gianna

After two full weeks of non stop travel, it was time for me return to the beach. Despite having visited Italy twice before, I didn’t know much about the Five Towns on the Northern Coast. After minimum research, I learned that Cinque Terre was basically some small, old Italian villages on the coast. It had tons of hidden beaches and hikes, and was a great place for backpackers. Someone somewhere described it as a cheaper Amalfi Coast. That was all the information I needed. My tickets were booked.

Getting to Cinque Terre was one of the most confusing and difficult endeavors I undertook on this trip.

To get to Cinque Terre, I had to take a flight from Brussels to Pisa. From the Pisa airport, I got on a metro that took me directly to the Pisa central train station. I then hopped on a regional train to a town called La Spezia. From there, I had to take a bus to my hostel up in the mountains. The hostel had a shuttle system that could take me to and from the first town (Riomaggore) every day. It was a lot.

I successfully navigated the flight and the two trains. I was feeling pretty confident about everything until I got to the bus stop. Then everything went to hell.

I had read online that the busses were not known for their punctuality. I wasn’t sure what bus I needed to get on. It felt like some busses had numbers, and other busses didn’t. I couldn’t even tell if I was at the right stop. And the only way to get a bus to stop was to stick your arm out and let the driver know you wanted to get on.

I was SO confused. So many busses came and went, and none of them displayed the number that I needed. There was one minibus that drove by that had a number written on a piece of paper in the windshield that was completely covered by the windshield wipers. UNHELPFUL.

Again, I found myself sitting on a sidewalk for almost two hours waiting for the bus. The exact one I needed only came every few hours, so I was sure I’d missed it at this point.

Begrudgingly, I hoisted my backpack over my back and traipsed back to the train station.

Instead of paying $3 for my bus ticket, I paid $20 for a taxi to my hostel. “I’m just lucky to be here,” I kept reminding myself as my taxi sped up the mountain, whipping around each corner of the one way sized two way road. Hey, at least if I die, I die in Italy I thought. 

My hostel was wonderful. It’s called the Ostello Tramonti, and is located in a sleepy, remote town called Biassa. It was much cheaper than staying directly in Cinque Terre. It had its own restaurant, and a common room with beautiful views of the mountains and town. The workers are all extremely friendly, and they instantly knew me by name.

“Gianna, you have Italian name! Why you no speak Italian?” they yelled at me jokingly. 

My room was simple but air-conditioned. I got a bottom bunk (hallelujah) and a full sized locker. I showered off the day and changed into my walking shoes. It was getting late, so I decided to stay close to the hostel and explore Biassa. The entire village is comprised of cobblestone walking streets. No cars or motorbikes can fit. There is no cell service. I got lost easily, but I didn’t mind. 

If you want to visit Cinque Terre, you can buy a day pass that allows you to ride the subway for free and gives you free entrances to all the hikes. I believe it’s $16, and I think that it was worth it. I finally found the small tobacco shop that sold them. There were tons of old men outside drinking beer and playing cards. The woman behind the counter was sweet and smiley, and gave me a map with hike suggestions. 

I went to the common room to read my book. I was 1 page into my chapter when two obnoxiously loud American guys entered the room. They called each other “dude” and said “one-hundo p” (100%). I hadn’t felt so at home in weeks. They were the first Americans I’d come across in my trip.

“You guys are so American,” I said to them. We were instantly friends. 

Americans have a reputation in Europe for being too loud. I finally understand why. Harry and Troy were HILARIOUS. Being with them was like watching an old married couple argue. They’d been friend for basically their entire life, and now they had both graduated college so they were taking a trip together that Troy’s mom had planned. 

We shared a bottle of wine and then went next door to the hostel’s restaurant. I ordered pasta pomodoro and another bottle of wine (on me) for us to share. There were lots of people staying at the hostel, and I’m sure we were completely obnoxious to them, but I’m not upset about it. I had so much fun. 

We stayed in the restaurant until we got kicked out, and then moved over to the common room, where a bunch of people were playing a card game called kings and drinking wine. They invited us to join them, and about 20 of us stayed up playing cards and daring each other to drink until 2 in the morning. The hostel receptionist had to yell at us to be quiet multiple times.

Even though the hostel wasn’t located in the most exciting area, there was a lock in time of 11 pm. After that, everyone had to stay in the hostel. This sort of forced everyone to be friends with each other, because there was nowhere else to go. It sounds bad, but it was totally fun. 

I woke up early the next morning, slightly regretting the amount I’d drank the night before. I met up with Harry and Troy for breakfast in the restaurant where I had avocado toast and some coffee. I felt a little better after that.

We got on the 9:30 shuttle to Cinque Terre. It had no seatbelts, and sometimes you couldn’t get the door open or closed. 

“Remember, the last shuttle will pick you up at 9:30 tonight,” a hostel worker told us. We’d chosen to be picked up late so that we could enjoy the towns as much as possible.

The drive was one of the most terrifying I’ve ever experienced. Don’t get me wrong, the views were incredible. But we were driving on the edge of a cliff with a straight drop down to the ocean. Italian people are all insane drivers, so we sped along the road, beeping every time we were about to make a turn so any reverse traffic could know we were coming. If a car was coming in the opposite direction, we had to pull over onto the dirt so that they could get by. There were quite a few close calls. I don’t know how the driver does this every day and is still alive. 

Twenty terrifying minutes later, we arrived at Riomaggore. The shuttle took us as far as he could until cars were no longer allowed to pass. From there, we walked underground to the metro that would take us between towns. Our plan was to take the train to the final town, and then hike back. 

When we got to Monterosso, Harry and Troy were already complaining that they were hungry. I had forgotten the sheer amount of food boys need in a day to stay alive. Somehow, one of them acquired an entire pie, and then we were able to move on with the day. One advantage traveling alone is that you never have to deal with other peoples hanger. 

We walked along the water, searching for the entrance to the first hike. It’s a bit confusing until you learn that there are markings painted on the street and cliff wall indicating where you should be going. 

Course of action: hike to the next town to find some lunch.

I don’t think any of us realized how difficult the hike was going to be. It is literally straight uphill the entire time. And then straight back downhill. We were three young, healthy adults who had to stop every 50 feet to catch their breath. Some tourists were even doing the hike with babies on their back. I literally don’t understand how it was possible.

The views were worth it though. Pictures don’t do this place justice.  

When we finally finished the hike, our legs were shaking from walking downhill for so long. We stopped at a beach to rest, but it was hard to get comfortable because it wasn’t a sand beach. We were laying on tiny, sharp rocks.

We needed food, and stat. The restaurants in Vernazza were filling up quickly. We headed further into the town, stopping at the first restaurant with an open table outside. We asked the waiter if we could sit, and he said yes. We were relieved. 

We ordered white wine and I got the most delicious pasta pomodoro (basically the only thing I eat in Italy). We had stumbled upon this place completely by accident, but the food was incredible. 

Once we were full and slightly buzzed from the wine, we set off for the next hike. Harry clearly wasn’t the hiking type, as he was ready to take the metro between the rest of the towns. Troy and I convinced him that the next hike would be easier and shorter (we definitely had no clue). 

One hot and sweaty hour later, we arrived at Corniglia. Corniglia is located on top of the cliff, and it’s where you go to get the infamous Cinque Terre cliff picture. See below.

We rewarded our hike with some much needed gelato. I ordered cioccolato e fragola (chocolate and strawberry). Having two guys to hang out with all day is great because you always have someone to take your picture. 

Everyone will tell you that Corniglia doesn’t have a beach because it’s up on the cliff, but they’re wrong. If you look carefully, you can find a painted sign on the sidewalk with an arrow that says “to the sea.” Follow the arrows to a steep staircase. It’s dangerously steep, but I remember there being a railing. It took us at least 10 minutes to get to the bottom.

The hidden beach was barely a beach, just some giant stones and a dock jutting out into the water. I had been staring at the jolly rancher blue water all day, and I was ready to swim. 

Troy and I raced towards the water, while Harry stayed back. He wasn’t a swimmer. The water was calm and cool, the kind of water that was so clear you could see the ocean floor. It was perfect after a full day of hiking. 

I loved this beach because it wasn’t full of tourists and hawkers, and the water was so deep that you didn’t have to worry about cutting your foot on a rock. 

The hike between Corniglia and Manarola is extremely difficult and long. Everyone told us to skip it. After hiking all morning, we took their advice and caught a train. 

When we got to Manarola, we found a restaurant to eat at for dinner and put our names in for a reservation. Our next goal was to find a place to watch the sunset. We sat on the edge of a railing, watching kids cliff jump into the water. I could never do that, I thought to myself. I’m not a fan of heights.

The sun set behind the cliffs and the sky turned a deep pink. 

We stayed in Manarola way too long. 9 pm was quickly approaching, and we had to meet our shuttle driver in a half an hour.

We ran to the train station. Damn. The next train to Riomaggore wasn’t coming for 25 minutes. We looked at each other in panic. The only other way between the towns was an hour long hike at least.

Harry frantically called the hostel to explain our situation. They agreed to send out one more shuttle for us thank gosh. The only other way back to Biassa was a 3 hour walk. 

“Gianna what the fuck?!” the receptionist yelled when we sheepishly got off the shuttle. But he was laughing. All was well.

We were too tired to do anything else that night. Harry and Troy were leaving in the morning, and we agreed to meet up the next day for breakfast.

This post was getting way too long so I’ve decided to end it here and pick up with part 2 of Cinque Terre in another post. Subscribe to get alerted when I post! 

Up Next –> A Leap of Faith – Cinque Terre Pt. 2