Ahhh, the Cinque Terre. There are not enough words to describe our experience yesterday. But Super Nel says I should at least try. Our day in this area of Italy was nothing like what we expected.
First, let me tell those of you that don't know-the Cinque Terre (pronounced Cheen-qu-whey-tear-aye) is stunningly beautiful. I first heard about these 5 tiny unique towns from a friend at the rec center, Miss Gina. Each of the 5 towns is known for a specific good (ie. basil, olives, anchovies, etc). All the towns are connected by trails that you can hike or you can take a small train. The whole area was declared a National Preserve a few years ago. We purchased a card that lets us hike each trail, take trains and buses without paying individually. The five towns from North to South are called Montessero, Vernassa, Corniglia, Manarola and Roggimilio (sp?). Our hostel was in Manarola. When we arrive in the little town you have to climb a very steep hill up to a church and our hostel is behind it. The climb up that hill left us drenched in sweat. It was the hottest and muggiest day that we've experienced so far. Super Nel says the climb up that hill was worse than the Duomo.
The view from the train platform in Mantarola
After checking in we put on bathing suits and head to Corniglia to hit the beach. The two easy trails we'd planned to hike were both closed due to a recent landslide so we decided on one tough hike. We met a 65 year old woman from Austrailia on the train that said she was doing the Corniglia to Vernassa hike. If she can do it, anyone can do it.
During my research of the Cinque Terre a beach in Corniglia kept popping up and reviews said it was gorgeous, visited by locals only, hard to find and known as a secret. I had written down directions that literally consisted of "Follow a red brick wall, after 300 meters you'll see a tunnel, exit tunnel..." We are following these directions and we're not anywhere near ANY other people. We're sweating so much you'd think it's raining. Part of the directions take you to through this housing complex. Finally we find a tunnel. Now there are giant yellow and red exclamation point signs that are in the shape of yield sign above the tunnel while at the same time someone has spray painted in blue "Beach--> this way." The woman at the Cinque Terre tourist center had told us to bring flashlights because the tunnel is dark. Good news-we did pack flashlights. Bad news- our flashlights are tiny pen lights we use as nurses and you have to hold the button down with your finger or else it turns off and the light is very faint.
We're sweating so much, its super hot and the tunnel feels cool inside. We are honestly debating what to do. On one hand we are dying to try something that thousands of tourists are not doing but on the other hand we want to be safe.
Luckily, at this point a man exits the tunnel wearing a headlamp. I approach him and ask if he speaks English-he doesn't-he DOES speak Spanish though! I'm silently thanking my grandma again for the millionth time for giving me the gift of being bilingual. The man says the tunnel is about 10km and takes about 5-10 minutes to walk through. We show him our lights and he looks at us like "Really?! That's the horse you bring to a rodeo?" So he takes pity on us and finds us these walking sticks. He shows us how to tap the stick on the wall in order to stay on the edge and feel where we're going (envision a very poor woman's way of a vision impaired stick). The man also tells us that the beach is on private property and its customary to donate a few Euro to the people who own it. I had read this online so we had a few Euro in our pockets. What we didn't have (and Arnel and I both said we'd have given our return tickets home for) was our cell phones. We left them locked up in our lockers because we were worried about losing then at the beach). We could of really used the flashlight app in this tunnel.
Now we are about 25 steps into the tunnel and its getting darker and darker. I should pause at this time and tell you two things: One-for those of you who don't know-I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder about 4 years ago. It's pretty well controlled and when I do get anxious I use behavioral and cognitive techniques to work through the anxiety. This includes deep breathing techniques, guided imagery, talking, writing, calming music, exercise, etc. Before we left for Europe, I had a big panic attack. I haven't had one since nursing school. Panic attacks feel awful and I don't wish them on anyone. When I told Arnel about it, we discussed the source of my anxiety-the length of the flight to Europe, my lack of sleep during the last 2 weeks (I'm a big sleeper), and the fact that we were going to a continent neither one of us had been to and what if we get sick, lost, hurt, mugged. He was really good at helping me calm down and focus and reminded me that we can't control what will happen but we can't let it control us either. We just have to hope that whatever we face on this trip we'll be able to handle. I felt much better. Now imagine my surprise when Arnel- the love of my life, my rock, my calming influence-starts to have severe anxiety every single time we go from one city to the next on our big adventure! I noticed it first in Germany on our way to Venice. Then from Venice to Florence it was really bad and I acknowledged what I thought he was experiencing and Super Nel agreed that he was having awful anxiety. We kinda joked that I was supposed to be the one freaking out and that I wanted a turn.
Now fast forward to a dark tunnel in a tiny village in Italy that neither of us has been to. We don't know if its safe. If something happens who will know where we are? We have no phones. No real flashlight! All I can think is "Please don't let me become one of those "lost Americans" I hear about on the news." We are now about 1/8 of the way through the tunnel and its so dark that when my fingers cramp up from pushing my light and it goes dark you can't help but lose your breath in fear. It was scary in there. At this point I'm leading and I know Arnel is just as terrified as I am but he's probably anxious too. We found out later that this tunnel was the old train passage. However, in the tunnel we didn't know this-the current train now runs right OVER this tunnel. So we literally start yelling, hugging and plastering ourselves to the wall of the tunnel the first time a train goes over us. It sounds like it's coming RIGHT at you. Anyone ever seen Ghostbusters 2? Where Winston gets lost in the subway tunnels and a ghost train comes at him? That's what I was feeling at that moment.
It gets worse. This entire tunnel hike is a battle of mind over matter. We are practically blind in a deep tunnel. If something happens we have a long way to go BACK and we still can't see anything in front of us. You start thinking of ghosts, murderers and who knows what else and you have to will yourself to stay calm, focus and in control. Now we're about 3/4 of the way out of the tunnel and we start to hear what sounds like whispering? Or rusting? And there are these carved out rooms coming up that we can see with our lights. We start calling out "Hello!!!!" No response. "Hola????" Nada. "Bonjourno?" More whispering/rustling. That's when I realize its running water on the sides of the tunnel. Arnel doesn't believe me. I recognize the sound because it reminds me of one of those fountains people have in their homes. We're getting closer at this point to the light at the end of the tunnel and we decide it might be best not to announce that we're American (no more signing "God Bless America") just in case there's someone on the other side that isn't friendly. So I whisper to Arnel that we should only converse in Spanish (mind you, he knows about thismuch non-medical terminology Spanish). So for the rest of the hike I make comments in Espanol and Arnel says "Si" and "Me gusta."
Now we're coming around the last curve before we're outside of the tunnel and that's when we hear it....real voices. Lots of them. I can see people walking around what looks like a makeshift campsite/house next to the tunnel exit. There's about 5 men and 1 woman that I can see and the best word I can use to describe them is "nomadic." They look like possible gypsy's if you believe in them. They have a shelter and wooden table and they have a look about them that shows they haven't bathed in awhile. Right away one of them shouts at me and starts speaking Italian. He starts walking towards me and makes some gestures that look like he's saying "I need to search your bag or pat you down" I'm freaking out at this point. I explain I don't understand in Italian and he asks if I speak English. Too scared to admit that I do I ask if he speaks Spanish. He does. He guides us over to a bowl that has a picture of Jesus on it and a few Euro on it. He asks if we could contribute to the bowl to help keep up the property. I pull out the 4 euro we already had in our pockets. All the other people are standing around just watching us. The man who is speaking to us asks where we're from and points to Arnel. I say in Spanish that he's Filipino. The man asks what part of Mexico I'm from and I name the town my grandpa and grandma come from and that seems to satisfy him. He asks if I'd like to view the beach from his "house" and then guides me over to a ledge. My survival skills have me flexing my arms and I refuse to turn my back to anyone. As I walk over to peer down to the beach I see a giant knife on the table laying next to some opened coconuts. I start laying out a plan to run away if necessary while Arnel stands there assessing the situation as well.
I glance down at the beach and remark on its beauty. The man gestures towards the trail that leads to it and I thank him for his assistance.
The beach really was beautiful-and worth the scare of a lifetime. I can already hear some of you (my mom included) WHAT WERE YOU THINKING???? I honestly said that to myself during some parts of the tunnel hike. Then the other part of me that loves adventure, that never takes a risk, that has always wanted to see this country and all it has to offer would say "What do you want to tell your great-grandchildren about this trip?" Because you know I'm going to be one of those great-grandmas that makes her grandchildren listen to hour long stories about my life that they will hate and then love when I'm gone. I want my stories to show that I explored the off-beaten path. I was adventurous and I enjoyed the life I've been blessed with. And now I can!
One more thing to add. This trip has been wonderful for Super Nel and I. Not just because its fun and exciting. But because its shown us what kind of team we can be together. We know now that we won't be defined by our genders. Just because he's a man doesn't mean I can't be the leader during scary tunnel hikes. Just cause I'm a girl doesn't mean all I'm good for is making food (honestly if you want us to ever cook anything really tasty you should ask that do the chopping and cutting only because Arnel is the better chef). Some of the things we've bought and made on our own have been by Super Nel's hands. I've always wanted to be in an equal relationship with someone who values me for who I am and loves me for it. Arnel and I bring out the best in each other and we love each other even when we're at our worst. I can also promise you another thing. When Arnel is telling our great-grandkids about that scary hike, he'll tell them that he was so glad that we did it. He'll admit he was scared but remind them how thrilling it feels to conquer a fear and that its more wonderful to do it with someone you love and that supports you.
By the way...did I mention that as we start heading down the trail to enjoy the beach the man shouts in Spanish that its a nude beach. What???More in my next blog post...
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