Blues Traveler
Cinque Terre is the kind of place that just can’t help but be touristy. Who in their right mind could hear “Five tiny Italian towns linked by hiking trails nestled into cliffs over the Mediterranean,” and say, “No thanks!” Our heads would’ve exploded if we had continued to let the flat, nasally, squawking American invasion of omni-beautiful Italy bother us. It was time to come to terms with the fact that every place you go isn’t going to be some cool, undiscovered gem that you get to enjoy in peace.
I can only imagine the heartbreak felt by travelers who discovered Cinque Terre years ago. When I was in fourth grade my two best friends Matt Lockwood and Joe Lockridge decided I was cool enough to be introduced to a band they had recently discovered. No one else at Valley View elementary knew of them because we guarded the secret like our lives depended on it. Inevitably the day came when I heard “Run Around” by Blues Traveler on 96.7 KHFI and it was all over. Within a week every damn Valley View cardinal but the backwards kindergarteners had rushed to Camelot Music and bought the CD we once treated like the holy grail.
That was the first of many reminders that some things are just too cool to be kept secret. Cinque Terre is one of those things. The string of towns is popular for good reason; every antique building is squeezed into impossibly picturesque cliffs with highlighter blue water crashing at their base and lush terraces of soon-to-be wine looking on from above.
One morning we set out on a hike from our town of Vernazza to the 5th town, Monterosso. It was raining pretty steadily so we threw on waterproof jackets, let out a trademark Bret Labadie “Ah PERrrr-fect,” and hit the trail. Along the narrow, slippery, steep journey we were thankful that the rain was our only companion as opposed to the crowds of old people we began to pass when the sun came out near Monterosso.
While posing for a picture Lauren was taking along the way, I leaned up against what I thought was just a colorful sign. It was actually an emergency call box and I had leaned on the button for the fire station. A hysterical Italian guy answered the call and started yelling at me through a loudspeaker trying to figure out what the hell was going on (possibly because it was raining and he was confused as to how a fire somehow stared.) Luckily “OK” is part of the universal vocabulary, and the guy inside the loud flashing box and I managed to get everything sorted out.
Tags: Travel
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