“Mommy- Can I make the little man Fly???” (Game of Thrones, and Karen-Cinque terre 2022)

Today is a pre-planned day where we can do whatever we want as a group or couple or otherwise. I have all sorts of plans to spend the day with Chris and sleep in and blah blah blah. We end up all going into town to shop because Muppets can’t let Muppets shop alone. Its in the muppet handbook. So yeah, we go into San G one more time to get all the things we left there and thought were cute the last 3 times we went and didn’t get all the things we thought were cute. I find the PERFECT purse for the bestie (Ride or Die Jess xoxoxo) and a few odds and ends that prompt Visa to call me. Lol- truth. They called to make sure my card hadn’t been stolen and collectively used by an entire group of tchotchke hungry tourists. On your last day in any place you notice things you hadn’t noticed before. I see a shop in the mix that I’ve never walked in to. Its filled with things I wouldn’t want in my home décor wise- mostly ceramics. But today I happen to point to a dog statue and say “oh how cute” to Chris…kind of a passing comment (my husband is newly obsessed with dogs??? And I’m HERE FOR IT!! It’s a very welcomed turn). When I make the comment a little old man comes out- he starts to talk excitedly in Italian- and we say english…he changes tack a little and asks in broken english where we are from. Chris says- Canada. And he say OH TORONTO!! And then starts speaking even quicker in Italian-Chris nodding like he knows what is being said. But the part about this little old man that gets me in the feels- is he is WILL DROVER. He is the spitting image of my grandfather- my beloved poppy. I think of my poppy almost daily…. Often-even more as I get older- realizing he is the person I lost way to young who loved me more then most…and who I loved every bit of. Taught me to swear and gave me my first drink of whiskey- we had a very special relationship- and I firmly believe with my soul that he would have been proud of me to this day had he lived long enough to see me become a woman- and marry a man that reminds me of him. So this man? This little italian man who is telling us how he makes these ceramics? He is my poppy telling people about the watches and carvings he makes. And my heart is full melted. And I find myself searching for something, ANYTHING, to buy…blurry eyed. He gives me a wink and a slight “should I know you” head tilt with a pause as we leave after I find a small trinket. It will be a long time before I forget Peppe- and I think I’ll cherish that little clock shaped wall sconce for a long time….even if I have no bloody idea what to do with it.
We head home after a few slices of fresh pizza-and I should take a minute to talk about the pizza. The THINEST crust you’ve ever seen, the spicy-est pepperoni, and the best most dripping oil cheese you’ve ever had. I’ve had pizza all over Italy- and I don’t care what anyone says, Tuscany pizza is BY FAR the best. I’ll spend the rest of my life searching for it and trying to make it.
Home we go and off to the pool. I paint and wine while the others nap and wine-sitting under the pergola with me during a quick thunder storm-there is NOTHING I love to paint to more then a thunder storm and I get many a roll of the eye as we plan trips and I excitedly say “I HOPE IT RAINS AND THUNDERS!!!!”.
Once yet another bottle of wine is done- we head out to the Panoramic restaurant for dinner. Its one of our favorite haunts and we have big expectations. Unfortunately we are seated in front of some pretty awful people from Colorado who insist on letting everyone in the restaurant know how racist and bigoted they are- getting my temper HOT- and I have to be held back from making a scene when they attack every group aside from their privileged white selves. The dinner is very delicious though- beef filet and porcini mushroom ravioli for me and Chris, and tuscan wildbore tagglitili for Nicole and Gary, starting with a plate of cheeses and honeys for the table….and accompanied by a few bottles of super Tuscan.
We couldn’t possibly eat another bite once dinner is done, so we go for gelato and grab another piece of that pizza on the way home. Then its packing time….we leave for Cinque Terre in the morning—-and we have to drive 3 hours to get there, and walk our luggage into town. Gary has almost broken out in hives from the anticipation. Its all he’s talked about for weeks, the need to travel lite. Which we really do take into consideration! But its voted against and we decide we need everything we brought to Italy, plus all the souvenirs, plus a few rescue dogs and enough tuscan wine to start our own bodega.
Off to bed so we have lots of energy to fight with each other over car packing in the morning.
And we do…. After Chris fries up the remaining 6 eggs and tries to force feed us them (see Drovers…told you he was like my poppy….)-eventually giving up and feeding them to the birds……which only after a few minutes do we realize is basically cannibalism…..we all just kind of stand there…horrified as the birds savage into the eggs……what does this make us?….the worst kind of muppets. The bird Jeffery Dahmer. ….shudder…..sorry tuscany..awkward walk away…..
Nicole and I pack the car- well…we point and yell. We have all agreed to travel light ‘next time” on every trip we’ve ever gone on. This never happens. Mostly because Nicole has to bring fairy lights (not kidding) and I have to bring 15 lbs of Art supplies and 10 of candles. Ah and a washer toss box.
Once that is done, we are off to the Cinque Terre- even though nicole and I can’t see each other..and can barely hear each other.-just muffled cry every so often of “PASS ME A PANTY SNICKERS”….you’ll have to refer to the last Italy blog for that one. Its so cramped that when we finally reach the coast with its switchbacks up and down the mountains, we have to describe to each other what we are seeing. Either an excited “I see the water and its TOURQUISE and beautiful!! Wish you were here!!” or a “I see a stone wall and and a death in memoriam house. Also a used condom and I think that might have been a dead rat…..”. perspective really is relative eh? The drive is insane, switchbacks though mountains with panoramic views of the ocean- and we talk about how we are definitely sea people. Its in our blood- being born on an island for Nicole and I- fisherman and salty sea hospitality in our bones, Gary and Chris in an area that is boastful of the highest tides and best seafood in the world. If sailor swears and saltwater doesn’t run through our veins I don’t know what does.
Eventually we come to the sign that proves we are in Riomaggorie – our home for the next 3 nights. But we are told by the man that owns the villa we are staying in that we need to just get to the gate and he will be along shortly. So we wait…and wait…and block traffic…and no one seems to care? But finally he shows up and gives us instructions. “Drive down the IMPOSSIBLY narrow road, you’ll come to an elevator in the side of the mountain….then unload your luggage- and everyone but the driver is to wait there- then back the car back about a ½ km and we’ll show you where to park”. We do, and we unpack what must look to the locals like everything we own. Hell we even have a frying pan. Boxes of wine. Boxes of food including a bolognse that everyone refused to throw out before we left tuscany. We are the Beverly hillbillies of the cinque Terre…nicole with a basil plant under her arm- no joke. Chris backs up to a parking spot…or should I say the tupperware container that they are expecting him to park in…its INSANE- and the keys need to be left incase one of the other cars in the garage looses a small fleck of paint and there is all of a sudden no room for our car.

We walk from the parking garage about 300 meters on a street meant for 2 way traffic- although nicole and I barely fit arm to arm with the luggage. We take an elevator down to a small square and we see the ocean up close for the first time on this trip. It is green and blue and breathtaking- right ahead of us- blocked only by brightly colored villas all piled together precariously on a cliff leading down to a marina. I am just starting to relax and take it all in when I get crapped on. Now, those of you who know me know that this seems to be a regular occurrence for me. Melissa…I know you’ll remember the time I came up with the most far fetched excuse to be late for work EVER- except it was true. Pooped on by a bird in my driveway and had to go shower again before leaving for work. Then I was pooped on in Napal- by what I can only assume was a flying elephant. My god it was a lot of bird and where he’d gotten Mexican for lunch in the middle of the Chitwan I don’t know. And now here, all over my head and my back. Like what gives??!?!?! How does this keep happening???
We are let in our rooms and they are PERFECTION…both with a deck- nicole’s with a wrap around deck (which we will allow because she gave us the tower room in Tuscany the whole time we were there-and also because we weren’t given the option of getting the room with the wrap around deck). Theirs also has a small kitchenette – or that is how it was described in the room ad- but its actually not bad at all…and as the owner walks us through all the options for dinner that he can book for us- with great views and seafood- we realize that we have everything we need right here- the view, and a chef- and I turn to Nicole and say- “you know what I’m thinking?- and she says “simple tomato arribbiata for dinner? You make-y”….your reading my mind sister. So we drop our things, get the lay of the land from the owner, Emileano in the fancy jeans (its really a thing here. Tiny pants. Fancy tiny pants),, who tells us what trails go in what direction and points down some impossibly steep stair cases to get into town…and a plan is hatched to get the things we need for dinner and come back, put on our no button pants, and cook.
After a quick shower on account of the bird duce, we make our way into the town square down one of the sets of stairs- and when I say steep stairs I don’t think I’m doing it justice. You have to be part mountain goat to do these. And I’m more part panda/sloth/penguin with a broken knee….so this is stretch for me to say the least. Some of these steps require Chris and Gary to stand in front of us and help us down- the Drover women were blessed with boobs, not legs-top heavy and talking the entire time in different voices just makes us look more akin to pecking chickens then mountain goats- and I’m sure Gary and Chris have considered beheading us more then once on this trip, only stopped by the fact that they know full well we’d still run around headless.
The smell of pizza and cheese in the air is intoxicating- but even the sounds alone are comforting. A group of children is at soccer practice in one of the rare flat open areas. The hundreds of birds chirping around us-because if you were a bird why would you live anywhere but here? People coming out of their rooms to shake out bedding. Wine corks popping. Volaire by dean Martin playing off in the distance somewhere- I swear it wasn’t just in my head. A couple whispering to each other while they walk. Gary randomly meowing in hopes of attracting kitties.
We make our way down to the rocks at the harbor and agree that this scene needs a beer, so off the boys go to source some out. Nicole and I use our scarfs as pillows and settle in for a nice nap and a listen to the Italian and lapping ocean. The boys would be more then annoyed to hear that the only time Nic and I shut up is when no one is around. We switch to telepathic communication then. I know full well she is thinking the exact same thing I am- listening to the sailors talk and the hum of the Vespa’s- mouth watering at the prospect of beer. That is until I hear Nicole scream bloody murder as a crab tries to get in her lady cave-he must be looking for snickers. She doesn’t even hear or see him until hes pretty much on top of her and she’s dancing and yelling. By the time Gary and Chris show back up we’re huddled on the same rock- nicole in my lap holding a cork screw like a shive shaking like a Pekinese. They promise to protect us from the crab and we crack our beers as we all sigh- we got here! And all our stuff got here!
After an hour or so we are up and back to walking the town- shopping and huffing and puffing our way- the town crazy steep- shops tucked into little cracks here and there. And shop we do….we have not ONE INCH of room left in our bags. So we buy sweaters and large trinkets and assure the boys we know what were doing- and then make a mental list of what of the boys clothes we will have to throw out to get room for this stuff. We stop at the very tiny Coopa and get groceries for my simple tomato pasta for dinner. Fresh made pasta and tomatoes bursting with sweetness, olives in oil and local sun dried tomatoes- tomato pesto made here in town- honey and cheese for an appie. And then we huff it up stairs for dinner- the no button pants come out, the fairy lights are hoisted onto the railing and I opt to paint before I start the cooking. I want to paint all five of these stone perched towns while I’m here- so I begin with the one I’ve photographed today from the rocks- our little Riomaggorie. We crack the wine and giggle and chat and share a charcuterie board – fresh pecorino and local honey- olives, a local orange, caramelized onions I made in Tuscany and bread.
I make the pasta and Nicole makes the salad- a dijon balsamic dressing. Dinner is eaten and its exactly what I wanted it to be- and I know at home I would overthink it, adding way more ingredients then needed and using veggies that were picked weeks and weeks ago- genetically modified to last the long trips to our supermarkets. Feelings are discussed. Tears shed from laughing as we chat and watch the sun go down. Off to bed for tomorrow- I feel we may need the rest- Nicole has that look in her eye like she plans to “Rick Steeves” the crap outa this place. And that usually entails me doing far more walking then I want to-and far more complaining then anyone else wants me to.
Down stairs we go to our room and bed- realizing that this town stays up way later then we do- the laughter just starting at the bars below us. We love to sleep with our windows open- and at home I’d be shaking my fists in the air and super annoyed at the partiers- but here its just a little background noise, every now and then a laugh carried on the wind—and when I get up to pee at 2 am its still going strong.
We are leaving at 9am and I get up at 5am- to have coffee and paint on the deck. The town is eerily quiet this morning- I assume there are a ton of nursed hangovers waking up and closing blinds as the sun comes over the mountains. All that can be heard are the birds, up early to stake their claim on the discarded food left by the drunken twentysomethings from last night- Happily alerting their families to the best scavenging spots.
I get dressed and put on my sneakers- all the guide books say you’ll need them as everything seems to be a hike to get to in this area. We meet at the front door and off we go in the direction set out by Emiliano yesterday. He pointed to a set of stairs and said take those to the pine tree and then turn something or other and get to the what now and easy peesey all with his adorable italian accent. That’s what I heard. And apparently Nicole heard the same, because we get to the pine tree and then I’m not sure what happens, but, fast forward to 15 minutes later and we’re on the top of old smokey and I’m crying and me knee is swollen and I’ve decided to just tumble down the hill for the sweet relief of death-all the while being passed by person after person- 65-70 plus years olds with hiking sticks and smiles. So yeah, that was mistake number one- wrong turn at the pine tree. Back we go to town and start again. This time taking the trail I’ve named “nope” for the journey over the mountain to the second of the Cinqueterre towns- Manarola. Just as we reach the top- and I’ve made a master plan to skin Nicole alive and wear her as a cooling suit, we see the town come into focus. And its worth it. Another town stacked on the rocks, sea at its feet, small walkways that double as roads lined with shops. Too bad we look like we just came out of the desert after being lost for 20 years- I have a shoe print on my thigh. I can’t even make up a reason why that would happen. I haven’t been pooped on again, but I think there is a small Italian swallow living in my hair, I have tear trails through dirt on my face, and I seem to have lost my underpants somewhere when they snagged on a rock but I had too much momentum going to stop. If the assassins don’t fail tonight both Nicole and Rick Steeves will be dead by morning. As we arrive in town nicole gets out her book and suggests another “short hike” around this town for breathtaking vistas and great pic oppurtunities. Gary agrees with her- even though he looks just as dirty and shaky as I am- which makes me wonder what the crap she does to him when he disagrees with her……
So off we go based soley on Gary’s yes-him and Nicole in the front leading the way- to what I am promised will be a short flat hike. Its at about the 15 minute and 348 step mark that I start to wonder if the plan all along was to kill me here and find Chris a pretty new italian wife. And then I hear Gary say- wait. I think we’re going the wrong way.
“Mommy…can we see if the little man can fly?” (for the Game of Thrones fans out there).
I remember at that point that Rick Steves is a huge proponent of Marijuana- and I start to wonder if he’s just high when he writes these books- and then sits back and laughs and eats doritos while he watches us all from a haze filled villa somewhere in the mountains.
Eventually we get back on the main path and walk a little further while I mentally take note of Nicoles approximate measurements for the box I’m shipping her home in. We come around a corner with an unobstructed view of the sea, rose bushes all around us- the town of Manola in the background- and stop for a beer. It’s the muppet way. We start walking again towards the town and all down hill thankfully. We source out pizza and more beer and make our way to the harbor-find a rock to sit on, and watch the people and the water for an hour or so. Feet in the water, feeding the fishes the little crust we are willing to part with. Back to the town and shopping  tshirts and magnets- all the tourist traps- and then we are ready to do the next town- Coniglia. For a hot second Nicole actually suggests we walk it. And by the time she can hear out of her left ear again, we are heading to the train station, a small fee and a quick 5 minute train through the mountains and we are in Corniglia- the one village of the Cinqueterre that can’t be gotten into via boat because it doesn’t have a port- it is still a coastal town- but high on the rocks- with a breathtaking view of the sea.
Off the train we walk up a few more stairs and await a buss that will take us into the town center. However, every other person that came to Cinque Terre is trying to do the same- a 30-35 person bus with 60 people waiting to get on. And they are ALL GETTING ON- if you ask them. The bus driver knows different- but when he comes after a brief 5 minute wait he is swarmed, and we are in the middle of the wave of people- unable to get in or out. Eventually its our turn to get on, and Nicole and Gary hop on- and I try to, but the driver closes the door directly on me- he seems pretty done with being polite in any way, his option of choice is to cut people in half to make his point. I narrowly escape with my entire leg and off he goes with my sister- the only one who actually wants to walk comfortably on the only thing with wheels in our vicinity. Chris and I check the schedule and the next buss isn’t for another hour…so we wait. While we stand there, a group of lovely 70 somethings is talking and pointing at me in a language I don’t recognize- I assume It is because my right knee is now the size of my waist- but one of them looks at me and says – “we’re talking about you- he closed the door on you! You will be first on the next bus- we will make sure” and I have a whole posse of German women carrying large walking sticks as my new gang- and when the bus comes back 10 minutes later (not an hour like the schedule said) they part the crowd using their loud voices and sticks to beat off the others, and let me walk onto the bus like I’m Cleopatra. I have no idea where Chris is, but these ladies could really teach Nicole a thing or two about how important I am.
We get off in the small town- use our international Muppet whistle-and find Nicole and Gary who have already sourced gelato while they waited for us. We walk and get some pics, stop in some shops for souvenirs and grab a bottle of wine. Nicole suggests a short walk into the mountains to look at the town from higher up.
“Mommy…can we make the girl fly too?”
That is voted against – and while we’re at it we call a Nixit (which is like a Brexit only where we separate Muppet nation from Nicole- voting is scheduled for this evening with both sides making attractive arguments- me with my rally of “as god is my witness we will never walk up a set of stairs again” and Nicole with her campaign slogan of “I have a box of wine and four straws- Follow me to the promised land and I’ll make sure you have plane tickets home”. It will be a tight one.)
We make it to the point at the far end of the town and open our wine and pour up- enjoying the crazy beautiful view the height gives us- each town in view and slightly different then the others- this one being the most different.
Back to the bus and back to the train- this time not crowded at all- Gary and Chris giving up their seats for a couple of lovely ladies who look like they have a sister who made them do all the stairs too. The one sitting next to me tells me in the most darling english accent to hold on to my man- she has ridden this bus several times in the past months and not one young man has given up his seat. How nice to see a gentleman again- Chris says that is awful and smiles- proud he was raised right. He takes my hand at one point and she leans in again- with misty eyes says- remember this. Treasure your youth. With a wink and a smile. What a good reminder from an unexpected stranger today.
We train all the way back to Riomaggorie and again decide we will cook at home tonight- it the best view and we don’t need to dress up or do any stairs. Sold. We grab more cheeses and bread, penne and tomatoes, sausage and onions. It will be a cheesy sausage penne for dinner.
Chris and I decide it would be a good time for a nap since we can barely walk after the days hiking- and send nicole and gary to their rooms promising to be up to make dinner in an hour. We settle in, in our comfies, in our nice air conditioned room with a view and JUST get to sleep when Nicole and Gary start to train their marching band, or start shot putting…or whatever the crap they are doing up there. We eventually realize that they are moving around deck furniture which is directly above our bedroom. I walk out, half naked, and yell “REALLY??????” up to their balcony…which is met with Gary saying “I only have 3 more to move”. I lay back down assuming he got the point, and it starts again. I picture him slowly walking the lounge chairs back and forth, slamming them around a few times, while wearing his tap shoes. And I realize I will not be napping today-nor will he be eating.
“mommy…can we do it now??”
I get up and go to our deck and paint instead-trying to recreate the two towns we saw today. Finished about 45 minutes later I wake Chris and up we go. We make dinner and eat again while the sun sets- feelings talked about and wined over. Off to bed for tomorrows adventures.
Up early and off to the train the next morning we make our way to Monterosso first thing- the island at the end of the Cinque Terre villages. We’re starting at this one today because it has the market! And we do love us a market.  we are on the train for just 15 minutes- a drive that would take a few hours..and walk that would take 4-5. But the train goes through the mountains and along the waterline- getting us there in record time. Off the train and a short walk along beaches and restaurants gets us into the town square and the market where we spend an hour or so looking at all the things we don’t have room to pack and bring home. I get a nice blanket and I’m trying to work out how to accessorize it for the plane home as I will be wearing it- no room to so much as tuck it under my arm. Then we head down to the beach- with the town behind us- for a nap and eventually lunch. After sleeping for a bit, and beach glass hunting, rock collecting and beering, Nicole and I head back into the town square to grab some lunch supplies. A bottle of wine, some local meats and cheeses, bread, mayo, tomatoes and olives, and we have a lunch fit for a king! Arriving just as the boys are starting to worry where we were (there may have been shopping….).. and chris has been hard at work- making 2 large inushuks like he does every time we want him to relax but he can’t because rocks. We make our sandwiches and gobble them up like we’re starving to death..they are SO GOOD- especially with the lapping waves and the warm med air.
We finish the wine and head back to the station for the train to the final village- Vernazza. Its much the same as RIomaggorie with its town meandering up the hill, boats and salty air at the bottom. We shop and slowly walk to the boats, the salt water calling our name. We find a set of 4 ancient stairs to the water and have a sit- wine is back out and poured and we start a trend- people gathering and sending off their men for bottles of wine. We wait there for a ferry that takes us the long way back to our home in Riomaggorie for our final night. Boarding the ferry and finding a seat at the tippy top we get to see all the villages from the water! And I am snapping pictures for painting fodder later. 40 minutes later and we are docking in our town- which already feels like home only 2 nights in.
Tonight will be take out. We have one last opportunity to eat the local seafood- and we won’t be missing out on that. We get upstairs and unload the days pillaging’s-then Nicole and Chris go back downstairs for foods- deep fried crab and cod, shrimp and anchovies. French fries and pizza. Enough food to feed a village- so they get chips too. While chris and nicole are in town, Gary is sent to get a hat nicole saw earlier in the train station- with JUST enough money and nothing more- he has a tendency to lose things, and give money away, and get lost etc. I stay and pretend I have to tend to dinner- but really am just savoring the time alone with nothing but me and the sea. When Gary gets back he is super annoyed and looks a little abused. He explains that he tried to get on the elevator but was recklessly beaten with baguette by a little old lady who wouldn’t let him on the elevator because he forgot his mask. He ends up having to do the stairs, and by the time he is back he is breathless and his calves are rock hard- and he probably has a most wanted poster in all the old Italian ladies homes.
After dinner Gary spots a cat off in the distance and gets out the treats he bought back in Tuscany just for this occasion. Shaking the bag the cat climbs the roof next to us and seductively meows and rolls around on the roof- trying to hypnotize us into giving her a treat. It works and gary is throwing handfulls at her! She is lapping them up- and now gary’s trip is complete. He made some cats evening and a friend for life. We will have to check all his luggage for muffled meows tomorrow before we leave.
After we go home we fall into bed, exhausted from 2 days of walking….and hear the Calvary come down on us at 11:30 am. I had just said at dinner that the only thing that would make this trip even better would be fireworks…..and the universe obliges- sending us almost under the bed for cover. Eventually at our windows naked watching the bursts of light below us. We could reach out and touch the light- or so it feels, although a little warning would have been appreciated……
Off to bed. Tomorrow is a travel day- a drive to Amalfi  7 hours with these lunatics in a car. I can say I’m afraid of driving and take my plane medication right?? RIGHT????
Until tomorrow Muppet nation. 