I missed the first flight announcement, though the tail end sounded like "rerouting." The second announcement corresponded with our second approach and second failure at seeing the runway; we were rerouting indeed, to Milan, where a bus would meet us and take us back to Genoa.
So, instead of landing an hour before Mark in Genoa, I landed about the same time as Mark in Milan (while his flight made it into Genoa fine). I turned on my phone, deciding that this was as good a time as ever to pay the $10/day for international service, and started texting him with updates.
A airline rep held a sign for us through the airport to baggage claim, then I ran to the bathroom (thinking that I overheard someone say it was a two-hour ride) before coming back out and looking for Door 5. I caught up to the crowd, put my luggage underneath (Mark had nicely given me the smaller bag), and got ready for a ride through the countryside. I had misplaced my headphones, so it was just me and the rumbling of the bus (and thirty other passengers) that lulled me to sleep.
Before I nodded off, Mark sent a few texts asking if I knew if a "Stephanie Smith" had made it on the bus. Her husband was in the same situation as Mark: waiting for his partner after a rerouted flight. That poor soul had only gotten "We're in Milan" and "Shoot, the bus is leaving" messages, so I double-checked she had made it on the bus by confirming with the woman matching the description he gave that she was, indeed, Stephanie.
So, with an extra two hours of travel time tacked on, we didn't make it to Riomaggiore in the Cinque Terre until 5:45pm. Just enough time to change then think about dinner. We weren't going to be trying to see any of the other towns in the dark, so we took our hostesses recommendation and went down to the marina to have a friend of her husband's (who runs a restaurant) take care of us.
Even at 8pm, we saw the restaurant about half as full as when we left an hour or so later. Of the other three couples in there, two were speaking English - most of the tourists we encountered did. A glass of sparkling was on the house as we decided what to eat. We ended up with stuffed seabass and anchovy pasta, with a dessert of "hot chocolate pie" (which was really more like a mousse) with pear in it.
During dinner, we got to know the two women next to us. They had been hiking all day, since this was the only sunny day in the forecast, and we invited them out for a drink after dinner. We all roamed up the hill to a bar (recommended, but closed) before going to the only hangout spot open in the town, getting carafes of wine, judging the other noisy Americans, then becoming the noisy Americans with a pushup contest after a game of yelling words at a deck of cards.
We took a bottle of wine back to our room, said goodbye to the girls, then made it to sleep by 1am. This really helped our jetlag.
Or actually, what really helped our jetlag was sleeping in until 1pm the next day. Just in time for the rain to start. Despite that, Sunday was our own day in the Cinque Terre, so we headed to Manarola for lunch. The recommended restaurant was straight uphill, so up we climbed, with the rain in our face.
It was open, unlike the rest of the town, so we sat down at 2:30 (when the closed for the afternoon at 3) and ordered the mixed seafood starter and crab pasta for two. We were a little aggressive with how much food we thought we could eat. Especially when the starter consisted of twelve perfectly done little tastes of seafood or fish, cooked or raw, marinated or fried, and all so good. My favorites were the crab wrapped in a triangle of black ink something, the raw salmon with pomegranate, and the tuna with roe.
The crab pasta was huge, and we found most of the crab, but left most of the pasta. Of course, coming to Italy with a Maryland boy, we were going to be picking crabs.
The rain hadn't let up at all, so off we went, to explore the next town. I had read there was gelato, so I had my energy.
Corniglia (pronounced Cornelia) didn't have coastline as part of the town, which meant that it was either a twenty-minute climb... or a 2-euro, 4-minute bus ride. We hopped on (also to get out of the rain).
At the top, we started following two women that had a Rick Steves book (or the pages from it, at least - they followed his instructions and ripped out what they were going to use). They headed to the right, up a hill, and we all looked at then popped into a church.
Leaving the church, I tried to get my bearings from the picture of the Rick Steves page and the downloaded Google map that I had. We should've turned left at the bus stop, not followed them to the right, but we all made it on the right path to get to the overlook, where we could see the next few towns, as well as the stunning green cliffs on the ocean.
As we were walking back toward the bus, which the bus driver said headed back to the train station at 5:15, both Mark and I had that moment where our shoes and our coats were no longer rainproof. With 15 minutes until the bus left, we popped into a storefront that also might have been a hotel but was definitely a bar and got a tiny sipping glass of sciacchetra, a sweet wine made in the hills around us
Mark was getting anxious getting back to the bus, even though it was only 5:07 and the stop was a block away, so we made it back to the square and got into the awaiting bus. Good thing too - the driver must have decided that he was as full as he was going to be, so he left minutes later. The two women that had been poking around with us didn't make it on.
Getting back to the train station, we decided we were too wet to continue, so we took the 5-minute trip back to Riomaggiore. Up the hill, into the room, and off with anything wet. (Later that night, I took the hair dryer to my shoes just to give them a chance to dry before morning.)
We weren't hungry, we weren't tired, we were just wet. So we just sat and warmed up, thinking about dinner, as the rain stopped and the sun went down. Thanks, rain. Now you stop.
As we were walking back, a few of the places that had been open on Saturday now said "closed due to inclement weather." A storm (with warning signs on the weather app) was supposed to come from midnight to 5am, so slightly before our early departure time. At 7:30 or so, we headed out in search of food.
We walked past all of the closed up shops, down to the marina to find the restaurant we had eaten in last night closed, then started wandering (rather, climbing up and down stairs) through the alleys of Riomaggiore. We got back to the main square, and Mark spotted a chalkboard sign with a candle underneath leading up to the only restaurant open in all of Riomaggiore.
We poked our heads in, were told ten minutes, then watched as a couple got up from one of the 10 full tables and left. Another couple was behind us by a few minutes, with a steady stream of people, about once every five minutes, looking to be fed. We were lucky to not have to wait very long.
The pesto testaroli (like a pancake, look it up) and the chickpea pancake with cheese and pruscitto was perfect after our super heavy lunch. Granted, we still got a dessert apiece (a yummier-than-usual tiramisu for Mark and a wine-soaked, baked pear with really good sweet curd sauce for me).
I was worried about the storm, but, as we headed back down the steps then up the block to our boarding house, there wasn't a drop of rain.
Thankfully, the storm never arrived, so we were up and out and on the regional train (taking 1:45 but no transfers) at 7:17am. In Genoa, we walked across the square at Piazza Principle to our hotel for the next two nights and was able to check in early. Mark was meeting his Italian counterpart at 11am, so we had time to go find a quick breakfast of croissants and foccacia.
I got back and started wandering the hotel for WIFI. After asking the front desk where the best WIFI was, they gave me a mobile booster for the room. Now, I could get to work.
Dinner on Monday was a snack at a bar along the wharf (a prosuitto and cheese sandwich) before heading back for a reception for the convient but not connected hydrographic meeting at the same hotel we were staying at. I met a few of Mark's coworkers who are in the working group meeting about standards, ate off of a platter of cured meat literally larger than a car tire, and had some pesto pasta with green beans (and some sparkling wine - what a cheery occasion).
The next day, Mark was off at 9am, so I got up, did a quick workout, then met him at 8:45 to head down to breakfast. Compared to the continental breakfasts of the US, this was amazing - cheeses, meats, an omelet bar, yogurts, fruits, granolas, juices (including a super delicious orange, carrot and lemon juice mix), bread, croissants, cakes... I realized I should've brought down my computer and worked from the restaurant for a while!
Instead, I went up to our room with the slipperiest floors ever, got on the WIFI, and started my work for the day.
At 4pm, the hydrographic conference was headed up to La Laterna - the lighthouse of Genoa. Turning 890 years old (though in a few different constructions), this lighthouse is the distinctive feature of Genoa. And the hydrographic conference was going to get to see the absolute top, not just the landing halfway up where the tourists visit. Nope, we got to climb all 360-odd steps to see the lens itself!
For dinner, we walked to a recommended seafood restaurant, after wandering along the updated wharf to check out their selection. (Also, because we were way too early for Italian dinner when we started.) The food was amazing - fish and octopus, and, walking back, we ran into a coworker that we gave the same tip to - definitely eat there!
On Wednesday, I had a bit of catch up from Tuesday for work, but our flight was early in the evening, so I didn’t have time to work a full day. When Mark got back at 11:30, it was good timing to go up to a castle!
I had quickly researched something that was close to us, and TripAdvisor had high ratings for a castle museum and an elevator that when vertically AND horizontally to get there. The point on the map for the elevator was pretty close to the castle itself, so we ended up climbing up and up and up to get to the entrance gate. A little park surrounded the stone turrets, and we paid the admission to learn about a captain and his adventures. While Genoa has a very old part of the city, this castle was built in the 1800s - not very old for Italy.
The rooms had all sorts of knick-knacks, except that the notes and the beautiful display made it museum-like. An exhibit on a modern inventor-artist making a light source in Mali was followed by more permanent exhibits on all the locations he traveled. “Exotic” cultures of the Americas and Asia were in a series of a dozen different displays.
Mark and I left, and, wouldn’t you know it, across the street looked like an entrance to an elevator. We bought our 2-euro tickets, validated them (since they were 100-minute tickets for all public transit in the city), and got into a pretty innocuous-looking elevator. I was surprised that it was only slightly larger than a typical American elevator. I was also surprised that there wasn’t a conductor.
We went down the however many stories we had walked up, then paused at the end of a curving corridor, where a pod like ours was trundling towards us. The exchange along a set of parallel tracks happened, then we chugged down the tracks to sidle up to the exit.
The funniest part of this was that we emerged less than a block downhill from our hotel - I had just never noticed the doorway in the facade in the plaza.
Given that it was Pi Day, I insisted that we needed to get pizza in Italy. Not Naples, but we got it with pesto (since, again, very important to the area) in a restaurant a block from the hotel. One of Mark’s coworkers was on his lunch break and happened to wander by, joining us. We chatted until it was time to go get our luggage and get a ride to the airport with the Italians who Mark and his boss had been talking to. Off to Portugal!
For dinner, we walked to a recommended seafood restaurant, after wandering along the updated wharf to check out their selection. (Also, because we were way too early for Italian dinner when we started.) The food was amazing - fish and octopus, and, walking back, we ran into a coworker that we gave the same tip to - definitely eat there!
On Wednesday, I had a bit of catch up from Tuesday for work, but our flight was early in the evening, so I didn’t have time to work a full day. When Mark got back at 11:30, it was good timing to go up to a castle!
I had quickly researched something that was close to us, and TripAdvisor had high ratings for a castle museum and an elevator that when vertically AND horizontally to get there. The point on the map for the elevator was pretty close to the castle itself, so we ended up climbing up and up and up to get to the entrance gate. A little park surrounded the stone turrets, and we paid the admission to learn about a captain and his adventures. While Genoa has a very old part of the city, this castle was built in the 1800s - not very old for Italy.
The rooms had all sorts of knick-knacks, except that the notes and the beautiful display made it museum-like. An exhibit on a modern inventor-artist making a light source in Mali was followed by more permanent exhibits on all the locations he traveled. “Exotic” cultures of the Americas and Asia were in a series of a dozen different displays.
Mark and I left, and, wouldn’t you know it, across the street looked like an entrance to an elevator. We bought our 2-euro tickets, validated them (since they were 100-minute tickets for all public transit in the city), and got into a pretty innocuous-looking elevator. I was surprised that it was only slightly larger than a typical American elevator. I was also surprised that there wasn’t a conductor.
We went down the however many stories we had walked up, then paused at the end of a curving corridor, where a pod like ours was trundling towards us. The exchange along a set of parallel tracks happened, then we chugged down the tracks to sidle up to the exit.
The funniest part of this was that we emerged less than a block downhill from our hotel - I had just never noticed the doorway in the facade in the plaza.
Given that it was Pi Day, I insisted that we needed to get pizza in Italy. Not Naples, but we got it with pesto (since, again, very important to the area) in a restaurant a block from the hotel. One of Mark’s coworkers was on his lunch break and happened to wander by, joining us. We chatted until it was time to go get our luggage and get a ride to the airport with the Italians who Mark and his boss had been talking to. Off to Portugal!
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