9

We left Grenoble for Cinque Terre, a popular tourist destination on the Italian Riviera, by way of Briançon in the high (haute) French Alps.

Briançon has been my destination at least twice in the past months but was never reached due to weather or road conditions. Spring has finally arrived and this week was a no-holiday week in France meaning we did not expect much competition for a hotel room.

The Claree Valley (i.e. "clear water valley") near Briançon appeared, from the travel guide, to be the ideal destination: A rural setting in a beautiful, green valley surrounded by mountains and glaciers. Unfortunately, and to our surprise, every B&B in the Claree Valley was closed. So we returned to Briançon, a short backtrack, and found rooms but none that had much appeal. "Grenoble is only 1 1/2 hours via the autoroute and the Frejus tunnel" I suggested, and soon we were on our way to Grenoble for the evening. Four hours later we arrived in Grenoble amidst the largest thunderstorm I can ever remember witnessing. At least 30 trees had blown down and crossed the interstate-like highway, bringing traffic to a virtual standstill. We would try for Italy tomorrow.

We got an earlier start today and set out for the Italian Riviera via the autoroute highway that we had traveled the evening before. Soon, about 5 hours later, we arrived in the village of Montorosso, Italy. Montorosso is really two towns, a "new" town and an "old" town, both of which are very old.

Upon our arrival, the street through the old side of town was ours for the taking and I proceeded down the quiet, single-lane street to the end of the road near the ocean. I parked under the railroad bridge. We arrived without a hotel reservation and soon, as we began asking for room availability, we quickly became worried that finding a room could be more of a task than expected. Finally we located a hotel that had a single room available. We took it and found ourselves in a clean but musty room with a window that opened only to a stone chimney. All that night I could not help but dream of my mother's musty basement.

After signing for the room I asked: "I am parked under the train bridge. Is that OK?". I was told: "Oh no, that is forbidden!". Forbidden, huh? Hmmm, this sounds intriguing. Then she went on: "The town is closed to traffic. You must park here", as she pointed to a parking area 5 miles away. Well blow me down. So that is why I was the only car driving through town. They should print the "Do Not Enter" signs in English if they expect me to understand them, after all, I am American!

After moving the car to the parking area we began to return to the hotel via a footpath, only to realize that the parking area is only 1/4 of a mile from the hotel via a tunnel, use of which would have been no more illegal than driving back through the town. The first priority the next day would be to find a respectable room.

Cinque Terre is a string of five small coastal villages about fifty miles southeast of Genoa. A foot-trail and the railroad connects the villages, each of which is only a short (1/2-2 hour) walk or a 5-minute train ride from its neighboring town.

You can also drive to them if you have a strong stomach and a lot of time. The train runs at least once an hour and, for a few bucks, you can get an unlimited daily travel pass on these trains. We walked part of the time and took the train at other times. This is a beautiful area and is a very popular tourist destination. Montorosso (right) is interesting in that it contains two villages connected by a tunnel, as mentioned above.

Vernazza is the prettiest town.

At the end of the day we caught the train from the southernmost town of Riomaggiore for the 15-minute return to the northernmost town of Montorosso. We boarded the train and found it empty. Hmmm. We took a seat and the train departed the station. My first worry was put to rest, that the train would split and our car would go in the wrong direction. This actually happened to a friend I was traveling with while on Air Force duty in Spain. Four of us boarded the train in Puerta de Santa Maria near the Mediterranean in southern Spain, three of us on the "left" car and the other person on the "right" car. The train departed for Seville. An hour later the three of us went back one car to talk with our friend only to find the car missing; it had departed, not to Seville but to Cadiz. The opposite direction. Anyway, we were headed in the right direction this time. Just before our arrival in Montorosso the conductor checked our tickets. "Tourist?" he asked. "Si". I replied. "This is First Class" he said. Ahh, so that's what the 1 and 2 printed on the outside of the train car meant!

A couple of days later, after a beautiful few days on the coast and a swim in the Med (Ligurian Sea to be specific) we returned to Grenoble. Driving in Italy is much different than in France. You definitely do not want to be in the "fast" lane unless you are going, well, FAST! Cars in this lane are typically cruising at well over 100 MPH. The toll stations are automated and after each payment with the credit card you are acknowledged with a recording of "grazie, arrivederci". This was always good for a chuckle.

I am driving a Peugeot 406, a very nice and comfortable sedan with a diesel engine, and a 1300km range on a single tank of gazole. That's about 800 miles on a tank of gas! Much better than my gas-hog SUV.