Cinque Terre: Lemons and Lovers

I am so delayed in writing about my time in gorgeous Cinque Terre that I almost want to simply skip to Siena, but I can’t quite bring myself to miss describing my outing in the Italian Rivera. I found the sights and tastes of tiny Manarola, a cluster of colorful houses on cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean, to be primarily fresh and invigorating. The cold splash of the surf on the dark crags of the cliffs, dashes of lemon and pesto punctuating the sweet fresh seafood, the long rocky climbs up cool green terraces, the clear incandescent blue of the ocean and the sweet white wine created in my mind an overall sensation of crispness. I especially enjoyed tasting limoncino, fresh anchovies bathed in lemon olive oil, lobster ravioli and pecorino cheese for the first time. The food was good, cheap and melt-in-your-mouth delicious, and always accompanied by crusty white bread. Needless to say I took every possible opportunity to indulge!

Picnic in an olive grove with resh bread, local oranges, provolone and pecorino cheeses,
homeade pesto and a bottle of DOCG Chianti

Izzy likes Chianti!

I also found that Cinque Terre is apparently The Place for lovers- or one of the places. Between Manarola and Riomaggiore there runs a cobblestone path along the cliffs overlooking the sea called Via Dell’Amor or the Lovers Lane. As I walked the path, I got to see the romantic and quaint tradition people have of fastening locks to the railings to symbolize the sealing/ locking of their love with their significant other, and then throwing the lock into the sea so their love can never be undone. Locks clustered on most of the railings and on the nets lining the cliffs, and just as numerous were the names scratched and written in pen and paint and every other medium imaginable into the rocks, the walls of lovers lane, and the white marble plaques listing the names of famous lovers through the ages. A simple statue of two lovers kissing in profile was just completely covered and surrounded by locks, with no possible place left for any couple hoping to seal their love.

Except the places made by the men cutting the locks off with a chainsaw.

Yes, the one day I walked lover’s lane was the one day out of the whole year that the park maintenance people come and cut all the locks off from around the famous lovers’ statue to make room for the locks of the upcoming tourist season. As I watched the metal be cut and hacked and thrown into a dingy red bin to be trashed I felt at once cursed and privileged, and most of all amused. My Australian friends pointed out to the men doing the methodical chopping of relationships between cigarette breaks that it was going to bring them terrible luck. The man holding the chainsaw laughed and said in a thick Italian accent, “Bad-a luck? I think you mean bad-a lock.” I found myself doubly impressed by his witty repertoire and calloused crushing of tender dreams. As we walked back along the path we were able to witness the very last lock being cut, and I took a picture as the murder of love became complete.

As far as the trip in general goes, I have some interesting observations concerning nationalities. 1. I’ve met some lovely people on my trip so far, and the best have been Australians. My roommates at the hostel in Cinque Terre were two cheerful Australian girls, and I’ve met a few Australians in Siena while doing tours and sightseeing. Every Aussie I meet is just as sunny, friendly and practical as can be! I’m starting to think my next trip will have to be to the great Down Under (which, my sources tell me, no Australian ever actually calls their native land.)So, a big Hooroo for my new Mates!

Australian Buddies! Ali, Me and Jo

2.  I have an update on Operation Go Undercover As A German Fraulein. My original plan for trip was to give myself out as a stern German chick so that no one would try to take advantage of me. So far, this course of action has had mixed but interesting results. The only people who think I’m German are other Germanic people (including citizens of Switzerland and Austria) and Americans. The neat thing about this is that Americans won’t try to approach me. But with Germans it’s the opposite- although they immediately identify me as German, so much so that they start rattling off to me in German without a moment’s hesitation, they tend to single me out as the person to ask if they need anything. Some examples: before I even left the U.S., in the airport in Charlotte, some middle aged tough-looking German guy in boots, a Harley shirt and a leather jacket asked me to watch his baggage while he went to get some coffee. We were in the United States still and he assumed I was German. And, out of a crowded row of people sitting in the terminal, he asked me for help even though I was half a row down from him! Also, an old German lady in a blazer and brightly colored scarf with powdery hair on the train in Italy asked me, as I was walking past down the aisle, if I would open her twist off coke bottle. I don’t mind it, but I find it kind of singular for sure.

On the flip side, Italians, Spaniards and French people immediately identify me as American. I’ve resigned myself to this fact for two reasons: one, I need to be able to communicate with them and none of them speak German, and two, they treat me much nicer if they think I’m American. So, I’ve decided to go ahead and be American here in Italy. The Italians want to interact with the world on a level totally different from the level on which Germans interact- they are not disrespectful, they just want to be able to talk and joke with everyone they run into. They seem to see Americans as more friendly and able to interact with them as they would want, whereas Germans hold themselves aloof in a way that I think irritates the Italians. I’ve observed this when German people eat in restaurants here- waiters treat me and other Americans with more ease and pleasantness than they have towards Germans.

I’m in Siena now and leave for Rome tomorrow- on to the seething metropolis! I’ll be sure to fill everyone in on Siena as soon as I can get settled in Roma. Let me just say, though, that I am sad to have only one night left in Tuscany, now that I’m here I wish I could spend a month enjoying the picci, panforte and rolling green valleys.Here's a little taste of what is to come: