Day 21: Blevio and Lake Como

We had breakfast out on Alessandro's porch, overlooking beautiful lake Como. Alessandro's lovely mom Adriana had laid it out for us.

Alessandro was presumably inside-- we could hear the ping ping ping sounds of computerised machine gun fire and point earning from his 'study.' It was just him and his mom living there, and though he had said it was his house, we were beginning to think that he may have been taking advantage of her lack of English skills -- this was looking like more of a mummy's boy scenario than he had let on. When she brought him a lunch tray, we had our clincher.

Breakfast finished (Matt awarded it bonus points for cocoa puffs, but detracted for lack of granola) we headed off on foot to find the stairs to the lake that Alessandro had promised were five minutes away. An hour and four failed attempts later, we decided to just get the bus into Como and wander around. We were also really close to the famous lake front town Belaggio (which the Vegas casino is named after), but wanted to check out Como first. 

We packed sandwiches and walked for hours around the lake, enjoying the hot sun and searching for kayak rentals that were not closed, abandoned, or ludicrously expensive. No joy. What we did find though was a friendly guy renting out hourly kiddie pedal boats. Sold. 

Our lakeworthy craft was likely stapled together in 1958 and left to sit in the sun since then. We could admire the blue water through rust holes in the boats bottom, and quickly learned that the pedals and steering wheel were really more decorative than functional, as we pedaled furiously and drifted randomly on other boats wakes. 

Despite this, we had an awesome time, hailing other small crafts (including some unamused local fishermen), sunbathing, and randomly blowing around the water at half a mile per hour. Finally the wind changed direction and we were able to hobble  back, with the aid of a passing super ferry that flew past us.

We then took a steep funicular (cable car) up to a tiny town above Como, called Brunate, which was meant to have some great restaurants. We were a bit pressed for time, as the last bus to Blevio was helpfully at 8pm. We can't tell you if the restaurants in Brunate were as good as promised, but they must be doing either really really well or really really badly, because every single one was closed when we arrived around 6:45. Typical. We enjoyed the views and caught the next car down. 

Como, as seen from Brunate

Once back in Como, we had only a few minutes so divided up three crucial elements: Matt - pizza and pasta. Audrey- prosecco. We met back at the bus stop ten minutes later, each successful, and had another delicious porch picnic at 'home' while watching the sun set over the lake.

Day 20: Mogliano Veneto to Blevio

Alright, today's the day, no muckin' round. Early start, let's get to Como.. Every time we agree to make an early start and reach our destination at a reasonable hour, and every time we get distracted or detoured or lost. Venice to Como was about a 5 hour drive, and we had to return the little Oopi once we got there.


Our accommodation for the night was in Blevio, a small community just a couple of km up the road from Como. It is still right on the lake, but slightly elevated on the mountainside too. The drive itself was fairly unremarkable as we stuck to the autostrada and powered through the countryside. We made another stop at one of the roadside services for a meal, this time we chose the rather prestigious sounding Autogrill. Same story – many people, long queues and overpriced snacks. Nothing grilled there either as far as I could tell.


By this stage we were quite familiar with Italian driving habits, and yet they still had the capacity to scare the crap out of us. As the roads merged on the outskirts of Venice, again approaching peak-hour (we somehow manage that every time) more madness ensued. I was on high-alert for all the standard nonsense. The one rule they all seem to be quite good at is keeping to the right – left lane is for express traffic, use it to overtake and then get back across as soon as possible. Unlike Aus where you can find all three lanes clogged with everyone doing a frustrating 98kmh.


At some point during that journey we began to wonder whether the Italians treat the bedroom the same way as the autostrada.

1. Going far too fast
   
2. Changing lanes without indicating first
   
3. Drifting back and forth between lanes
   
4. Having to pay (Price depends on how far you went, and where you got off)
   
5. It's poor form to be doing something else at the same time (ie, reading or texting)
   
6. Something about headlights or high-beams
   
7. Seeing all the hot Italian and German models go by, and wanting one
   

I'm sure there were more, but you get the idea. Please send in your thoughts :)


When we finally got to Como we had just under an hour and a half before the Oopi was due to be returned. Plenty of time for us to drive the short distance to Blevio, meet our new host, drop our bags off, maybe even a little grocery shopping before leaving the car in Como... right? Well it took some 40 minutes to get to Blevio – narrow roads and construction work make for very slow going. We then managed to overshoot the place, the directions weren't great. Finally we locate it and bustle in with our bags. Alessandro (Alex) and his mum welcome us very warmly, show us about the house, and while we have ants in our pants to get going back to return the car, he very slowly and deliberately explains how we should get there, and the bus details to get back.


OK. Great. Thanks. Byeeee. See you soon... “Oh and one more thing, when you leave, you must always hang the room key here, like this. And then take the front door and gate keys from here”
Aaah ... Okey dokey. Gotta run..!


Navagatrix puts in a stellar final performance, we arrive at the Budget office with 2 minutes to spare. Fortunately traffic was a little more forgiving on the way into town. They check it over and give them thumbs up. It seems like they even forgot about the 60 Euro one-way charge. Bonus! (Mental note: check they didn't just take it off my Aussie credit card ….)


We find a real supermarket for the first time in forever, and excited to have access to a real live FRIDGE we even get some ham, cheese, tomato, pesto and bread for some DIY sandwiches. Cheapo lunch organised for tomorrow, retro-tick! Yogurt and fresh fruit, and some cereal for breakfast... why not?! We have a fridge and shall eat like Kings.


We retreat back to Alessandro's to piece together another another salady type meal, with extra meat. Share a bottle of wine on the balcony as the sun sets. Life is good.

Tomorrow we'll spend the day in Como so we spend a little time looking at what's to be seen and done, then off to bed.

Day 19: Venice day two

Second day in Venice, and the team was up and at em, eating a substantial brekkie of rice cake under a silken dragon motif on the wall. Yum.

We typically had missed our train, so read up on Venice and its various tours while waiting for the next one, booking a walking tour for that night. 

Seasoned as we were at this point with the Italian trains, we'd finally worked out that they never ever check tickets. So we ran for our train and daringly jumped on board last minute without visiting the kiosk first. Unfortunately, Murphy's law was golden, and this was the only ticket that got  checked our whole trip. Slammed with a 15 euro fine. Ah well, coulda been worse. Lesson learned.

We spent the rest of the day wandering and getting lost. Venice is beautiful and we just strolled around, pausing occasionally to pose heroically, creep on English speaking tours, consume gelato, etc.

Now I've noticed that when I'm travelling, I'll sometimes mistake a complete stranger (likely from another country) with a friend or family member. This had been happening t both of us constantly, but just near piazza San Marco, we spotted him: our awesome housemate Matt Connor. In Venice and he hadn't even told us. Ok, maybe not actually him, but possibly his long lost twin, complete with tattoo sleeve. 278ers, appreciate:

That mission accomplished, we returned to more heroic posing and faking random accents, though my default (aka only reliable one) is Indian. More reliable than my weird half-American accent these days actually. 

Rain was threatening, so we smugly nabbed prime spot at a restaurant's covered terrace to wait it out. And wait more. Sub par meal finished and faux pas cappuccino consumed (apparently bad taste to have a cappuccino after your meal), it still hadnt rained.  I stretched out that thimble sized cappuccino, taking about half an hour to finish it, and we realized we really couldn't hold out any longer, so left. As the rain hit. 

Luckily it didn't last long, and we sat in the piazza waiting for our night tour while I called my mama to wish her happy birthday. :)

Happy birthday, mama!!

Bridge of Sighs

Matt then reported that our night tour was only going to be us, and our charming guide Andreas, a Venetian local, took us all around the city. One of my favourite stories he told us was about a pre medieval revolutionary who had planned to murder the ruler of Venice and all his men in the doges palace in order to gain power. OK, I'll tell the story. At night, as the man and his followers made their way down a narrow alley (now packed with souvenir stands) they were found out, and a huge swordfight began. An old woman peeked down from her window and nudged her mortar and pestle off the sill, directly onto the revolutionary's head, killing him and saving the city. The nameless old woman is immortalized with a small statue, high on the wall where she once lived.

Andreas also told us about the corruption among the city's gondoliers (you needed millions of euros or the right connections to hold a coveted license), showed us many hidden alleys and architectural curiosities, including a graffiti man drawn in the 1700s and the houses of ancient guilds, and generally was good fun to be around.

Matt's attempt to right the most crooked doorway in the city

Our tour finished around midnight, and we grabbed one of the last trains back 'home.' Big day tomorrow.

Day 18: Venice

Goooooooood morning Mogliano. I love the smell of Italian/Chinese/Japanese cuisine in the morning.

When we finally woke from our salt-induced comas, we found a beautiful sunny day awaiting us. As usual, we had neglected to prepare or plan anything for the day, and a brief bit of research over breakfast showed we were already going to be too late to catch most of the guided tours that morning. We finished up our plastic croissants and headed for the train station. About a ten minute walk and a 20 minute train ride later, we walked straight out of Venice's main station and into our first pun of the day -

MonkDonalds. He's lovin' it.

Contrary to my naïve vision of the city, there were also walkways and streets and not just canals everywhere. We followed the main street through all the tourist schlock and manage to lose and rejoin the crowds at regular intervals. At one point we stumbled upon the central markets, brightly coloured stands of fruit and vegetables, fresh seafood and all manner of handmade trinkets.

We found a supermarket right around the time we both started feeling hungry, our breakfast hadn't exactly provided a lot of sustenance. We selected some premade salads, sandwiches and fruit drinks, and found some quiet steps to enjoy our lunch on. We took a few pictures of the residential canal we were by and pondered life in such a waterlogged environment. It was then that we noticed a small sign above our heads, and realised we'd simulateously been breaking several laws (We later also read it is against city laws to sit or eat in any areas that aren't designated for that specific purpose!). We did at least manage to find a bin for our rubbish.

We studied a rather useful map we had borrowed from the b&b and found where we thought we might be, and a few places we wanted to check out. Having now read Inferno, I was hot on the trail of Robert Langdon still and trying to recognise more sights and highlights from the book. We crossed countless canals and took about the same number of photos. We eventually made our way to Piazza San Marco in the early evening and settled in at one of the cafes for some people and pigeon watching.

Is it too late to change my mind?

There were numerous newlyweds posing for pictures, some of them looking less than enthused about the situation. Whether they were regretting a recently avowed life decision or simply the fact that they were both covered in mutant pigeons, it was hard to tell. We've started pointing out 'twins' to each other, couples who have somehow managed to dress alike. Quite common amongst the older community with BOGOF deals on beige jackets, it seems to be catching on.

One of our favourite opportunities though is taking pictures of awkward people taking pictures. Now this could be a gallery unto itself.

Dedication: She didn't appear to even know the couple

We saw people getting into rather extreme positions to take the perfect picture. There were people taking selfies of course, de rigeur at any touristic opportunity. The latest evolution of a selfie appears to be having your camera mounted on the end of a very long stick. We saw all manner of squatting, reaching and other physical contortion to get the right angle, one woman even lying on the ground. All this while fending off a constant stream of very persistent rose sellers and pigeons.

With my Indian rose selling friend

They wander around with a fistful of roses, making a beeline for any couple who look even remotely attracted to each other. Or not. They then shove a rose in the guys face and refuse to take no for an answer. “E la mia sorella” (she's my sister) seemed to misdirect a few of them, then one caught me planting a kiss on Auds cheek. “E la mia sorella?” I tried again … He laughed, thrust a second rose in my face saying “haha, I understand this too, I am Indian”. Can't make this stuff up, I didn't even realise that was a thing in India!

The live music started up as the sun was going down behind the Basilica, and we sat for a few more hours.

We finished our drinks and started hunting for somewhere to have dinner. Having seen il conto for our drinks, we didn't even want to know what the meals would have cost. We tried a few blocks further back from the main square, and found some places that looked like they served reasonably authentic food, but then we realised the train station was on the other side of the city and we didn't even know when the last train left. We asked one guy how far it was, he looked at us quizzically … “a piedi?”, he laughs … probably on foot at least 50 minutes. Great!


We got to the station in 45, take that doubting Italian, and saw that we had a train in 5 or 25. We elected for the slightly later, giving us some time to find food first. Of course there's nothing but pizza slices by the station, so we chose the least offensive (actually they were really tasty) and sat on the banks of the grand canal before heading home.


Another full day in Venice tomorrow, we'll try to book a tour and structure our day a little better this time. But first a few more photos.

Peak hour traffic jam

This one's especially for fans of the Bean movie ... I found it humorous anyway!

Day 17: Levanto to Venezia via Fugazzolo di Sopra

Another delicious and filling breakfast to start the day. We packed our bags in earnest for the long road ahead. We had just got everything sorted when Auds noticed that one of our kobos (I refused to buy a kindle for the same inexplicable reason I wholeheartedly despise apple) was missing. The room was basically empty, and neither of us had packed them. Brief panic. Standard annoying question - where did you last have it? Retracing our steps we remembered having it at the cafe for dinner the night before. Unable to find a contact number we had to drop by and see if some kindly soul had handed it in.

So we returned to Bonassola, only a 45 minute walk, but probably a 25 minute drive given the slow and windy roads. Forethought probably would have suggested that my cycling there and back would be the most efficient approach, but we were both keen to get going so we jumped into the Oopi and wound our way to the scene of the crime.

Fortunately our waitress from the night before had collected the kobo while clearing the table. She didn't sound too impressed when we came asking for it though. I guess she thought we just been passing through and probably wouldnt see us again, would have been a nice little tip for her. We got back in the car and checked the with our navagatrix - 1.5 hours via autostrada or 2 hours taking the alternative route. Not in a hurry? Save some cash? Yes thanks.

Queueing in Bonassola. Awesome.

The most direct route was back to Levanto before heading inland, but of course nothing is ever that simple. We came across a closed intersection manned by the Carabinieri. The road is closed for the next hour. Not quite sure why, some sort of public event. If we'd been just five minutes earlier the road had been open. Dammit. So we turn around, again, head back up the road and find a quiet spot overlooking the town. Enjoying the view, we have a quick snack, read, catch up on some blogging, etc. 45 minutes later we head back for the closed road to find a massive queue, it was a relief at least  know why. Almost another hour later the road finally reopened, apparently a cycle race was on, but there were a lot of stragglers causing the delay. Hmm, maybe we should have taken the autostrada, we're a little more pressed for time now. 

Also this insane fog and black clouds had rolled in, making the twisty mountain roads almost invisible. Safe. 

Ten minutes later we were in it...

Auds overriding the occasional instruction we followed the roads through towns that basically consisted of a cafe and a house. Cafe wasn't open of course, it was perpetual siesta. Eventually we reached Fugazzolo,  Audrey's ancestral italian homeland. The streets weren't really wide enough for a car to pass through; and although that hadnt stopped us in Salerno we decided not to push our luck and parked just outside the village. Set on a hill in the middle of what seemed like a rather panoramic nowhere, the place seemed to stop and stare when we ambled through looking distinctly non-local. We spent an hour or so walking around (probably in circles) admiring the quaintness and isolation of the small town.

I think I see it ...

Fugazzolo !!

We visited the church where we think Auds' great-grandparents were married, and the cemetery where there only seemed to be about three different surnames in the whole place. Old men with pipes stood in the middle of the street, chatting idly and regarding us carefully. I think at some point we wandered into someone's backyard, and somehow stumbled upon the only person in town who actually spoke English.

It turned out that Karina had spent most of her life in Switzerland, hence the language proficiency, but had returned to Fugazzolo in her retirement. She asked if she could help (ie, why were we in her yard) and we tried to explain we were looking for someone who may have known or remembered any of Aud's relatives.

Auds great grandmother had left for New York alone as an indentured servant in her teens, returning some years later for her childhood sweetheart, and they married and sailed together back to New York. There were undoubtedly many branches of that family tree still in the Fugazzolo hills though.

Thanks for your help, Karina :)

Karina's reaction and the ensuing ten minutes had to be witnessed to be believed, and was quite a surreal experience. She led us to a nearby house and started rattling on one of the windows calling Maria! Maria!!, all the while asking us for more details of Auds bisnonna Margherita. Husbands name, age, etc. Maria didn't show but another old woman threw open the shutters on her second story window and got involved, then the priest and his granddaughter came by, before half a dozen more locals popped out. Thirteen in all, standing in this tiny little village street. True story. None of them remembered Margherita (not unexpected, she was born in 1885) but they were all happy to talk at once about how they didn't know, and ask multiple times if we were sure her name was not Maria? Periodically, the woman leaning out her window would shout Aspetta!! (Wait) as if she had remembered something. She would then pause dramatically and say no, no, no. No Margherita. 

We thanked them all, said goodbye to Karina, and wandered through the cemetery before heading off.

I would have killed for a chicken parma at this stage...

We then took a few more pictures and headed for Venice. Well, more specifically, Mogliano Veneto, the cheaper town inland where you can stay if you don't have 300 to spend on housing each night. Mogliano Veneto is also apparently quite popular for its nightlife, as we learned when driving in, casually passing multiple ladies of the night, easily distinguishable by their bright stilettos, microscopic skirts, etc. 

Our feeling of comfort only increased as we drove up to our destination, which looked like this. 

On the bright side, as advertised, they serve Italian, Chinese and Japanese cuisine, sometimes in fusion. Great. We were too exhausted to brave the prossies, so we braved the food instead. Fifteen minutes later, Auds came up with a dubious tray of what looked like 4 alien shrimp still with heads and swimming in watery juice, small pile of minced chicken and salted cabbage. Everything was swimming in salt. We were so hungry we ate it all anyway, and passed out-- door locked. One point was regained for having a nice shower though. 

Day 16: La Spezia and Bonassola

Although still yet to come across a bed that was long enough for my feet to not hang off the end, the sleeping arrangements at Grazia's agriturismo are certainly amongst the best we have experienced so far. Hard to believe but I think my top two are currently the Jadrolinija ferry bunk, and then Zeljko's converted couch. Grazia's probably manages third place. In any case, all that to say the relatively comfy bed, in addition to the quiet countryside location made it easy to sleep in this morning. We came down to breakfast after everyone had apparently already been and gone. One table was still neatly set, so we helped ourselves to the (still ample) remaining cereal, bread homemade cake, and fruit. Great breakfast here, and I think my favourite so far.

We sat in the dining area for an hour or so after eating to catch up on some blogging, some emails, schedule in some more accommodation for the coming weeks, general life and trip admin. We have got quite a few couch-surfing options locked in now and really excited to meet these people and spend a few days with them. AirBNB is great for finding somewhere to stay, but I think the real life and flavour of travel will come from couch-surfing. These are people who are actively interested in hosting and spending time with fellow travellers, not for the sake of the money or a livelihood, but because of a genuine passion for the world outside their own existence. It remains to be seen whether I eat those words at a later date, but as of right now, we are both really excited about the next phase of our trip when we will bounce around some middle- and eastern-European countries. But more on that later, for now we still have a handful of days in sun-soaked Italy.

We finally get ourselves out the door a little after twelve, and make plans to catch the train through the five towns for which the Cinque Terre is known, and down to La Spezia. From there we could catch a bus to Porto Venere. It's a ten-minute walk to Levanto train station, and in rather standard fashion we arrive just as the train has left. 35 minutes until the next departure! We buy our tickets and commence thumb-twiddling. Actually we are both nearing the ends of our current books so we are quite happy to stay put and flip a few pages.


Our train shows up, and we are looking forward to our coast-hugging journey through this stunning piece of coastline. We quickly realise the reality of the situation – the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. A rather unfortunate practical example of that rather delightful axiom is that pretty much our entire journey consisted of tunnels burrowed through the hills between the towns. The most scenic thing on that journey was when an overweight gent exposed his disturbingly hirsute gluteal bifurcation while retrieving a fallen suitcase from the floor in front of us. We bury ourselves in our books once more.


We jump off the train in La Spezia excited for the rest of our day. Following Grazia's suggestion we decide on a wander through the old town and along the promenade before catching our bus to Porto Venere. Maybe we picked a bad street, maybe it was because everyone was on siesta (or whatever the Italian equivalent may be), but neither of us found it particularly La Speziale at all. A bunch of closed shops (most were open 9am-12pm and then 5pm-9pm or something like that), a bunch of dodgy gelatarias and pizzerias, and a recently closed fish market. The place looked and smelled great. The giant seagulls enjoyed it anyway.


Thoroughly nonplussed by the old town we pushed on for the promenade but we found that equally disappointing. It was a harbour and a port from all we could see, lots of docks, marinas and piers. Nowhere to sit an enjoy the sun, breeze and beach. Maybe we missed the good stuff, if someone has been please tell me where we went wrong?! We decided to cut our losses and headed back to the station. I very confidently read the departures schedule and announced that we required platform 4, and a train would be along in five minutes.


Fifteen minutes later we began to think maybe the train wasn't coming. Finally my pride gave way and Audrey found a flirty elderly station assistant to inform us that our particular train wasn't running today. No, he said, it didn't say that on the schedule, it's just not running today. Great. Oh, the train we really should have taken, well that had already been and gone on platform 2. Great. Next one? 32 minutes... Great. So, noses back in books again, getting really close to the end now.


We board the next train, through all the tunnels again, past Levanto to the next town on the other side. Audrey finished her book five minutes before me (dammit) and started to harrass me, poking me and asking me what was happening. Dammit. Bonassola is a cute little town with a beach (is it still a beach if there's no sand?) and a few touristy restaurants. We pick our way along the beach, which is mostly roped-off 'private' sections in front of the various restaurants or hotels. They string a rope almost from the water's edge right up the beach to their establishment and apparently you're not allowed to set down in that bit. What a joke. Though of course we still tried. Anyway we get to the crowded, and very narrow, 'public' section of the pebbly beach and lay down our towels. Rugrats are running around on the stones and pebbles barefeet, but my delicate little tootsies require thongs all the way to the lapping waves. I slide them off and awkwardly hobble into the water.


Water temperature is nice, a little bracing upon entry and the initial breach of the sub-torso area causes a little yelp as usual but after that I plunge in and adjust quickly. It takes some coaxing but Auds also braves the waves and joins me. We paddle about for ten or twenty minutes before heading back to our towels to dry off in the sun. The next few hours pass uneventfully until we both start to get a little hungry, and the sun is stooping below the mountains so people around us are all packing their bags. We find a reasonable looking place and order a couple of drinks. They come with a rather generous (and salty) selection of peanuts, corn and potato chips, olives and a couple of small slices of cheesy foccacia with salsa. Jackpot.


Still peckish we order a couple of dishes and watch the interesting assortment of passers by. Before we know it the sun is long gone. We settle our bill and begin the hour-long walk home along a well patronized foot and cycle path between Bonassola and Levanto. Auds is inspired by the acoustics of the tunnel (yes, even the walkways are in tunnels) and belts out various titles much to the amusement and appreciation of our fellow tunnelgoers.


We make a final pitstop in Levanto for an icecream. I wouldn't normally consider this blogworthy, but it does set the scene for a rather amusing anecdote and one of my finest puns of the day. On the short walk through Levanto back to our Agriturismo, Auds stubbed her foot pretty badly on the concrete guttering and was in some pain, with no ice. She also wasn't enjoying the icecream much, so to alleviate the pain she stuck the ailing digit into what was left of the cone. A gelaTOE if you will.

You may have noticed a distinct lack of visual support to this particular entry, that's because we took bugger all photos today. All we have to share is this -

 Which I think might be what churches will look like once apple starts designing them.

And also this -

I have had some experience of posing in front of statues and trying to replicate their stances. This is unfortunately not one of my finer efforts, but it's all I can offer...

And with that, I bid you goodnight. We're off to Venice tomorrow after a short stopover in Fugazzolo, the birthplace of Audrey's great-grandmother.

Day 15: Levanto to Monterosso hike

We woke up at Grazia's agriturismo and had a good breakfast of fresh granola, yogurt, jams, honeys and bread. When I went back up to brush my teeth, I could see the ponies and about eight of her 27 cats playing in the sun in the paddocks below. >Cue brief animal photo break.

Ok, that's all for now. The night before, Grazia had suggested we bypass the more touristy Cinque Terre (five coastal towns connected by famous hiking trails) and instead hike from our homebase in Levanto to neighboring Monterosso. She promised the same views, no tickets, and no crowds, which sounded great to us.

Unfortunately, once I started to get ready, I remembered that nearly all my clothes were in the wash. Unfortunate side effect of backpacking. After a quick rummage in Matt's backpack, I fished out his XL Superman tank top and decided it would have to work as a sort of hiking beach dress (nope, not a real thing), along with my tennis shoes and a plastic bag full of our towels, etc. Ready to go.

After a few wrong turns, we found our trail and set off. The trails were a bit rough but followable, and we came across very few other people during our three and a half hour hike up and down the mountain sides.

At various points, the trees would clear and we could see the clear blue sea veryyyy far below. We even saw the hovering boat I'd only ever seen in pics, where you can see the shadow of the boat in the water, it's so clear.

We hiked a few more hours and came across a couple of semi desperate Chinese hikers, who thought they were lost and had decided their best course of action would be to stop by the side of the trail and wait for hours until someone helpful came along -- jokes on them because their 'rescuers' were a big shirtless Aussie with a backpack on and a chatty girl in a superman shirt, not exactly the original trail blazers.

We just told them to keep going, couldn't be much further, right? At this point, being the experienced hikers we are, we had nearly finished all our water, and the day was getting even hotter. After nearly missing our turnoff, we came across one more scenic viewpoint (read, photo opp) and, victory achieved, began the descent into Monterosso, a cute beach side town.

We got some focaccias and beers, wandered and then took the train home (which took all of 5 minutes. Kid you not.) 

After much needed showers, we went into the town and got a few takeaway pizzas to eat on the beach. We then came across a dance lesson, where about 40 people were doing some traditional Italian synchronized dance in a square near the beach. Matt took some video of all the old guys trying to dance near the only girl under 45, then we ambled on for some gelato and home to Grazia's.