Genoa + Cinque de Terror

The first thing I discovered about Italy: everything involves emotion. From Italians’ casual speech that is partly sung and includes as many hand gestures as possible as if perpetually stuck in a Broadway musical, to the fact that we had to plan our transportation around the public transportation employees that felt driven to go on strike yesterday. The ATMs even show emotion. Shortly after eating Goose’s card and adamantly refusing to give it back no matter how many times Goose’s fists of fury lay siege upon it, it put on a ridiculous fit full of noises and rapid, repetitive screen changes. Thought it was going to explode – what a headcase.

Walked the city the first night and a drunk Californian girl whose hobbies included Tumblr Blogs, drinking, and wandering around alone until 3 a.m., found us during the ATM episode. She showed us around a bit and basically explained how many awful people are in Genoa and what there was to do/avoid. She blatantly laughed at us when she heard our bed and breakfast was located next to the port, essentially in Senegal Jr. At this point we concluded not to stay in the city the next day - Cinque de Terre was happening.

Cinque de Terre can be the most peaceful, romantic stroll along Mediterranean cliffs dotted with Italian towns resembling rainbows. It can also be the most treacherous, God-forbidden, sweat-laden, shirt-saturating “hike” (climb) of your entire life, as it was for Goose and I. Due to a convenient landslide wiping out part of the 2^nd of 6 miles, we opted for a “little detour.” Our blatant, stubborn rejection of using any means of transportation was fueled mainly by my statement, “We will not stoop to that. My brother Dave did this and whined about it, we’re going to kick his ass.” The aforementioned “little detour” led us up about 15,000 steps, through terrace farmers’ backyards (not kidding), and up two entire mountains, totaling about 2.5 hours instead of 45 minutes. “Cinque de Terror,” as Dave described it, was spot on. Touché. To truly capture this, a series of pictures I have dubbed “The Chronicle of Sweat” is necessary:

Before. The journey begins, sweatless

Some moisture accumulating during the "little detour"

This is where things spiral out of control

Pores are really opening up at this point. Notice the size of the trail they've generously provided for this.

I was doing much better

~Mile 3, andddddd it's GONE.

Town 4 and the watering hole I floated in for a half hr

I know what you're thinking - no, I do not use anabolic steroids. Feel free to comment how much better looking I am than Goose.

Hostel: 8

A nice, tiny Italian lady hosted us at a bed and breakfast. Had our own room, which we proceeded to litter with wine and pizza boxes. I even got to do some laundry. No dryer, so I laid my clothes all over the room on whatever ledges I could find which was oddly reminiscent of the time I used the same unorthodox technique Freshman year after overfilling the dryer by about 40 pounds and nothing dried. Some things never change. Also had our own bathroom and there was a bidee, which, needless to day, was a gift from the heavens!

Sites: 6

It’s cool, but not a great city to walk around in. Saw a couple cool buildings and arches and ran into two random bands playing, but we knew 0 of the words/songs. The McDonalds close way too early too.

Best Site: 10

“Cinque de Terror” provided more phenomenal views every step than I’ve ever even considered possible. Felt like having this guy’s double rainbow reaction at times:

but instead opted to mutter something eloquent like, “Dude, this is sick” to Goose to appropriately make manifest my feelings.

Mythical. The 2nd and 3rd towns of the hike.

Food: 7.5

The neighboring pizza shop stole our hearts, and we have now signed a binding contract with bruschetta for every meal the rest of our Italy circuit. That’s about all we discovered though.

Nightlife: 8

Didn’t do much the first night, but met up with Goose’s friend from USC at a club on the beach the second, so the 6 and 10 average to an 8. This club was literally on the beach which sounds cool, but when my savage yet whimsical dancing style led to five pounds of sand in my boat shoes the beach club idea seemed a lot less cool.

NOW THIS IS HOW YOU START A NIGHT! Naked wine and pizza!!

This leaves us with:
1) Madrid - 44
2) Barca - 43.5
3) Nice - 41
4) Genoa - 39.5
5) Marseille - 38
6) Narbonne - 36

The next chapter
This is a day I have been anticipating for quite some time: the reunion. Tommy, Kinz, Will and Ben meet us around 8 tonight in Rome (hopefully...). Suddenly, the trip feels far more complete, and when I see Kinz flopping about like a whale in Trevi Fountain tonight I’ll just nod my head and proclaim, “Yep. This feels right. We’re back.”

- Andrew