The best part of Italy (for me) was the Cinque Terre. Steve is torn between it and the Dolomites, with good reason. But the protected coastal region of the Cinque Terre and its five villages on the cliffs are breathtaking. We drove to Levanto, a cool town where we found a campground and stayed for two days. Levanto is west of the Cinque Terre and has a train station from where you can connect to all five villages. First we saw the beach in Levanto and then settled in for the night in our cozy van. The next morning we set off toward the train station.

We bought two all day train tickets that also counted as park passes. They were ten Euros each; we hoped that some of the proceeds would go toward fixing up Vernazza, a flood-torn village of the Cinque Terre.

We took the train from Levanto to the easternmost village, Riomaggiore. At the train station I saw something that actually made my jaw drop. I had used the restroom after first buying tissues from a café (because the toilet paper was imaginary toilet paper) and walked out to a sight I can't erase from my mind. A woman and whom I assume was her husband were cradling a boy (about 6 or 7 years old) near the pavement outside the bathroom as he TOOK A BIG POO. This Italian couple was holding their son about 15 feet from the bathroom so he could shat in public. It wasn't even runny so I doubt it was a huge emergency. The boy was (should have been) past potty training age. I was horrified. The only thing they could do was place some tissues on the landing pad and hope. I didn't stick around to see how it turned out for them. The woman did look embarrassed so I felt a small tinge of sympathy. I ran to tell Steve what I saw and he tried to take a peek but the couple had already disappeared.

Before starting our hike we looked at the options. There are several trails but due to recent landslides a few sections of the easier trails (that most people do) were closed. The first easy trail section is called the Love Trail. Don't ask me why. It's not a trail but a cemented walkway along the cliffside overlooking the sea. We walked this portion of the trail to the next village, Manarola. When we got there we explored a bit and then asked a couple park ranger-looking officials where the red trail started. This was a harder trail that took you up into the hillsides where farmers have ingeniously (and probably for centuries) carved terraces into the land where they have planted on every available flat space. The trail was difficult in places but nothing like the Dolomites. I loved this kind of hike. It was a challenge but really fun, too.

In many ways I am glad the trail was closed in places because it lead us to the best views. We walked among vineyards set into the terraces and passed through tiny villages nestled in the hills where we replenished and wiped the sweat off our faces with drinking water from a tap in the wall of an alley. The trail passed right through farmland and even someone's backyard. We said hello to the residents who were sitting in their yard drinking wine in lawn chairs overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. They didn't seem bothered by the traffic.

We took a break near a church after a steep climb into another village and chatted with a family from Chicago. We ended up running into them several more times throughout the day. It became a running joke that they were stalking us. The third village we came to is called Corniglia and is unique because of its location on a jutting finger of cliff that extends into the sea. It has no port access and therefore is skipped by the ferries. Fishing boats are lowered into the sea on a pulley system in some places. It is a bit smaller than the others and the better for it. Its location offered exceptional views.

We continued hiking until our feet were exhausted but our spirits full. We ended our hike with a shot of alcoholic lemonade from a little stand nestled right into the brush on the side of our last steep trail. He made it himself and was quite proud. He liked to guess where people are from. Steve had already given himself away by just standing there. He guessed German right away. But then he waved his finger in my direction and squeezed his eyes closed like the answer would pop out from somewhere if he concentrated enough. He rattled off several possibilities. He started with Russian and ended with Australian. When I said American he threw his hand up with a grunt. I guess that wasn't the desirable answer. He was jovial but charged 2 Euros for a shot. We shared one and continued on our way, a little lighter in step.

We decided to take a train back to Levanto because it had been a long day and we wanted to buy produce for dinner still. There are hikes all the way back along the coast but we were hiked-out. We waited about 25 minutes on the platform for our train. While sitting there I overheard a woman talking to a man (clearly a recent acquaintance) about her husband back home. She basically said that although he is a mean to her and can be "heavy handed", he is supportive of her travel lust and is willing to take care of her son while she is gone for months at a time. It was a strange thing to hear someone say out loud. The other thing I noticed was the poo kid couple holding their daughter in a similar cradle while she peed in the bushes (near a young couple sitting down) but mostly all over her legs and feet. Again, there was a bathroom at this train station and the girl was at least 4. I lost my previous sympathies.

When we got back to the van and the nice campground we had a bag of veggies in hand and made a fresh chicken salad. I was able to catch up with Whitney during a video chat that night and we laughed about serious topics (which we do very well) for almost and hour. Steve was watching Germany play Portugal in the campground bar while we talked.

The next day we packed up and headed farther down the Italian Riviera. Although we stopped in Genoa, we stayed our last night in the beach towns further west. This is where we ended our tour of Italy. Although I had an amazing time exploring the great country of antiquity, history and culture, I was beginning to see France as a fresh start. I needed a boost and the Côte d'Azur (Blue Coast) was the next destination. The clear blue abyss of the French Riviera was whispering my name.