Riomaggiori and the Train to France

The towns of Cinque Terra were wonderful change of pace—no museums, no churches, but spectacular views of the Mediterranean and village after village chiseled into the cliffs that rise mightily out of the water. The towns were, to me, a witness to the indomitable human spirit. There are paths that link one town to the next, and along and aside them are carefully tended groves of grapevines and olive trees. I cannot imagine how hard people worked to make those terraces, and then, year in and year out, care for those vines, and tend those branches, to bring their fruit to market. The sea is gorgeous, but the boats are small, and you see in pictures how the winds and waves can create truly treacherous conditions. Tourists may come now, and sip a fine glass of wine, enjoy a delicious dinner of the freshest fish imaginable, but our ease lies on top of the immense labor of generations.