“I won’t be going to Cinque Terre wearing anything other than linen”, Rosco declares as we discuss our upcoming and rather ambitious day trip to Italy’s famous five villages.

Before this statement was uttered, I had been harbouring the thought of hiking between a couple of the villages.  But a two-hour hike is not an activity suited to linen. Nor is it an activity particularly suited to my ever-so-clumsy husband.

So, I bend to the desires of the fashionista, agreeing to linen, and definitely no hiking. 

With an extra two-hours now up our sleeves, I instead dedicated time to finding a fabulous restaurant for lunch in the village of Monterosso (or as I like to call it …. Monte-Rosco).  The website showed stunning views over the sea and the village below. I make a 12.30pm booking.

Monterosso is the last and the largest of the five villages (assuming you are travelling from La Spezia on the ‘Cinque Terre Express’, which almost everyone does).

We didn’t arrive at La Spezia until after 10am, mainly because it’s a long way from Torino – 3.5 hours to be exact.

Our day stated at 6am, waiting for the local bus outside our apartment.  It was late. The buses here are almost always late, except for when they inexplicably turn up 2 minutes early, although in hindsight, that was probably just the last bus, running even later than usual.  

At 6.12am and with no bus in sight, we booked an Uber, only to have the bus turn up a couple of minutes later.  “Eeeeeeat-taaly!” we say to each other, cancelling the Uber.

Whenever the craziness of Italy happens to us, we look at each other and say “Eeeeeeat-taaly” accompanied by a shrug.  Whether it’s the hazardous car parking, the frenetic driving, the inability of buses to run to schedule, the erratic opening times of shops, restaurants and museums, or just the general chaos, “Eeeeeeat-taaly” has become our affectionate catch-cry for Italy at it’s outrageous best.  We love it, even though there’s generally a fair bit of eye-rolling at the time.

Anyway, we eventually get to La Spezia, and change platforms to board the ‘Cinque Terre Express’. The train is packed and people are standing in the aisle. Groan, I hate crowds (it’s estimated that some 2.5 million people visit Cinque Terre each year).

Our seats are in a configuration of four, two pairs facing each other.  Our seat companions are an 8-year-old girl and her grandmother.  They are from the US and have been to Cinque Terre before. “Ignore the train announcements”, Miss 8 intones upon us wisely, “they are always wrong”.  After a brief discussion about deadly snakes, spiders and sharks (invariably part of any conversation when people find out we are from Australia) they get off the train.

Rosco and I have decided we have enough time to call into one of the villages for a quick 45 minute visit, while still being able to make our 12.30pm lunch date at Monterosso.  We decide on Corniglia, village number tre (3).

The video display inside the train shows Corniglia is the next station, so we disembark, only to find we’re actually standing on the Manarola platform, village number due (2). We should have paid more attention to Miss 8!  We leap back onto the train before the doors close, rolling our eyes and both mouthing “Eeeeeeat-taaly!” to each other.

A few minutes later, the train pulls into Corniglia. We no longer look at the train’s video display. Instead, we check the signs on the platform. Confident now, we get off. The Corniglia train station is high up on the edge of the sea, offering gorgeous views over the aquamarine water, complete with bobbing fishing boats.

We make our way out of the station towards the town, and it’s not long before we realise that we should have done a bit more research, before impetuously planning a trip the night before.

Shimmering in the heat haze before us, was a near vertical cliff, festooned with hundreds of steps, being the only way to reach the village on foot (there was also a tiny mini-bus, but the queue of waiting people was unbearably long).

The stairs, we were to find out later, are called ‘La Lardarina’, comprising 382 steps over 33 flights.  If hiking was a no-go at Cinque Terre, then walking up 33 flights of stairs in 33-degree heat, in linen no less, was also a no-go. Plus, we only had 45 minutes, and although we are both supreme athletes (* results may vary), we would no sooner get to the top, than we would have to come back down again.

A quick Google search after the fact was full of helpful tips like: “Get the shuttle bus up and walk down”, but we didn’t research, and we didn’t have time, and did I mention Rosco was wearing linen?!  

So, it’s back to the Corniglia train station for us. Thus far, this whole Cinque Terre caper is a complete bust!

Sidenote – how to pronounce ‘Cinque Terre’:
Cinque is pronounced chink-kwa (when the letter C is followed by an I or E, it makes a CH sound).
Terre is pronounced terr-aye (the E at the end makes as a long A sound, as in cafe (caff-aye).

When we step off the train in Monterosso, I’m overwhelmed by the crush of people. But within minutes, the crowd thins out as groups go their own separate ways to the beach, the village or the hiking trails. It’s still crowded and busy, but not unbearably so.

The beach is a kaleidoscope of boldly striped umbrellas, white deck chairs and shimmering blue waters. It’s breathtaking. Photos really don’t do it justice.

With 45 minutes until our lunch date, we wandered around the town, past the stalls selling everything from beachwear, to souvenirs and baked treats.  We explore the narrow alleys and discover their little treasures. We stopped for an Aperol Spritz at a tiny bar with only two tables.

Suitably refreshed, we start the walk up the hill to the Porto Roca Hotel where their terrace restaurant awaited us. It’s a long way up, and we’re sweaty and puffing by the time we arrive (clearly supreme athletes!). 

The restaurant’s terrace is shady and beautiful, with trees growing between tables, and brightly flowering bougainvillea.  Of course, the view is amazing.  To our astonishment, we are the only ones in a restaurant that could easily seat 70 people. Our waiter tells us later that the crowds all eat down at the beach, where they are jammed in like sardines. I don’t understand it. 

We share rockmelon wedges wrapped in salty prosciutto served with chilled white wine.  Then there’s pesto gnocchi which is so soft and smooth it’s like eating tasty little clouds, if clouds were sprinkled with parmesan. Then, fried sea bass, beautifully decorated with tiny vegetables. Dessert? Sure, why not? It was pretty much the most perfect lunch in every way.

After a very pleasant couple of hours, we trot happily down the hill to the train station. We’ve spent our entire time allocation in a single village, Monterosso, which we don’t regret one little bit. It does mean however that we need to come back to Cinque Terre again, but next time, we will allocate at least cinque (5) days, one day for each village. That’s the way to do it baby!

But we had to get a wriggle on. We needed to be in La Spezia pronto, to catch our connecting train to Torino. We had 3.5 hours of travel ahead of us.  

We finally arrived back at our Airbnb about 9pm. It had been a very big day. We fell asleep with the azure waters of the sea filling our dreams, and the promise, we will be back, on our lips.

PS. If you are ever in Cinque Terre, we highly recommend the hidden gem of the Porto Roca Hotel.  

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