"Who said this hike was a 'mere outing,' " Frank demanded, stopping to gulp in air as we surveyed the expanse of water beyond. We were between the coastal towns of Corniglia and Vernazza, both of us sweating in the hot summer sun.
For the next hour or two, we prodded and cajoled one another to keep moving. As we went, we re-created all the meals we had eaten since our arrival in Italy a few days earlier, then detailed the one we hoped to enjoy that night.
We had set out that morning from our rental apartment in the tiny, terraced hamlet of Manarola. The apartment had been a last-minute arrangement, procured on the spur of the moment by Frank, who insisted that if he were going to be that close to the Mediterranean he needed to see it. (This after we discovered that the hotel I had reserved through the Internet had no views.) Our search for new digs had led us to a local bed-and-breakfast that turned out to be full. But the owner took us to the apartment, which she was authorized to lease. We followed her down winding, stone alleyways and streets into the heart of town, then up 38 twisting, narrow marble steps to a top-floor apartment with four French doors opening out to a balcony above the sea.
For $152 a night, we had the run of the place. We were up so high that I found the view from our balcony frightening and had a serious case of vertigo as I peered over the railing to look down at laundry lines, lemon trees, flowering wisteria, and tiered piazzas.
We had come to Cinque Terre to hike the Blue Trail that hugs the cliffs and rocks along the Mediterranean just north of La Spezia and south of Genoa. The trails were created hundreds of years ago by hardy peasants who trudged from one remote town to another to work the vineyards or trade their wares. Ten years ago the five small towns of the Cinque Terre and the trails that link them were declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
But back to the hike.
