La via dell'amore, Cinque terre, Italy. 5k treck

It is hard for me to begin an attempt at describing the place that I sit. I am perched on a cliff sitting on a stone slab.



My lunch consisting of PB AND J reminds me of home. Behind me, I am surrounded by rugged Mt. Terrain, with dry stone walls holding up terraces of vinyards.

The most impressive horrizon of blue neverending sea gives me a feeling of being so small in a world that has become so numbing at times. I am on my way down a foot path that winds around the cost line through 5 unique villages.

The difficult terrain consisting of exposed cliffs, lose stone, and rock steps keeps me challenged. It is the same path taken by many pilgrims and local followers of Marry to visit places of religious significane and worship. I am told that in the past the pathway that I am taking for recreational purposes was once the only route between the 5 towns.
I imagine how difficult it was to farm on this verticle landscape and trade goods to other villages. Today, motorized carts wind up the terraces to carry the produce.

Nevertheless, if you could see where I sit, you would understand why these people so long ago decided to cultivate this land into a home.


The first portion of my Cinque terre treck is called the la via dell'amore, the path of love. The people have come to the love trail to see the most amazing views. I wish for a moment that I had someone I loved to visit this place with me. Then I realize that through my words to you, I have taken you with me to all the these beautiful places. The people that I care for and love are always with me as I journey for myself.

I coutinue winding around tourist and luckly they begin to bcome scarse as I advance into the second hour of my treck. The path becomes thousands of steps winding up the mountain terraces. My legs begin to ache.

I understand why the crowds have dissapeared. Continuing I come around the corner and see a mass of land extending to a point in the sea. The town has been built reaching out into the sea, three sides touching the water.

I stop for Italian ice cream and enter into a tiny village shop that displays colorful artwork. The women speaking Italian changes to perfect "american" english once she hears my poor attemps of greeting- "Ciao". An american tourist, she fell in love and married the a local man that has painted all the pieces of art that hangs on the shop walls. She told me that she wanted to contribute to her husbands work. The shop " Stories of Italy" displayed her husband's passion and she makes jewely with his artwork. I suppose they have a story that inspired love, art, and family. My story in Italy has just begun so I decide to buy a piece of their "story". It hangs from my neck and will always remind me of all possibilities.

Ciao
KatelyN