Goals

My day started in a local cafe with a very Italian moment; a couple of middle-aged polizia, in uniform, with guns, standing at the bar, flirting as Italian men do with the attractive waitress, who was pouring them a shot of vodka… at a little before 9am. I got the impression that it would take a literal murder occurring on patio outside to drag them off to do their duty.

But I had places to be. Today would be my best chance to finish my goal of walking between all five of the Cinque Terre villages, with the leg from Manarola to Riomaggiore, even though it’s the day before a public holiday and a lot of people are taking the day off, and thus the train stations and the trails would be packed.

Unlike the trail between Corniglia and Manarola which went up, then flat for most of its length, then down, the trail from Manarola to Riomaggiore went up… and up… and up… until there was a flat bit about the size of my living room, if my living room was infested with dirty French hikers, then down it went until it hit Riomaggiore. But it was actually easier going than previous times, because the trail was so crowded that everybody was forced to stop every 10-20 metres to let others pass, so I never had a chance to get over-exerted.

On the way up I discovered a woke totem pole: a pride flag topped by a Star of St Greta.

Because this hike only took about an hour, as one last Cinque Terre act I took the train from Riomaggiore up to Monterosso, because I realised I’d eaten gelato in every town in Cinque Terre except this one. It also gave me a chance to go down to the beach and pick up some interesting pebbles to add to the collection I combed in Amalfi four years ago.

But before gelato, I was peckish for actual food, so I chose the least overrun ristoranti I could find for some lunch. It turned out that the reason it wasn’t overrun was because it was a fine dining establishment, with main courses orbiting $55-60. But I’m on holiday, and after the culinary fail that was Osteria Inferno, I needed a good Italian meal to reaffirm my faith in their race… which this place delivered.

I started with an amuse bouche of a fried cod ball, served on pickled cabbage, served on a rock, with a piece of bread daubed with black garlic truffle sauce and an olive oil burre.

My main course was a medley of heirloom carrots and octopus tentacles, with a sweet carrot puree sauce and little aerated foofs of goat cheese. In addition, there were tiny little specks of courgette, pickled onion and caper. It was served with a glass of the house prosecco, which was served with all of the deliberation of a fine wine, including a taste test.

For dessert, I asked for an espresso and some gelato, as I wanted to see if posh gelato is different to commoner gelato. However, the pained expression that flitted across my waiter’s face when I asked, and the fact that the gelato never appeared, leads me to believe that they just gracefully “forgot”. Gelato may be considered a cheap street food for children here; I decided to respect their expertise.

However, I still needed to have gelato in Monterosso, so I stopped at a street stall and had a scoop of malaga flavour. I have no idea what malaga flavour is – it may have something to do with toffee – but it was delightful, as all gelato is.

For aperitivo I went inland a couple of blocks to a place called Emporium that I’d noticed on my walks. They didn’t have a cocktail menu but they were well-versed in the classics, so I had an Old-Fashioned, and then a Martini. As I’ve been feeling guilty about eating nothing but bar snacks, and I needed dinner, so I also ordered a tapas-sized beef tartare, which was served with honey mustard and toasted foccacia fingers, and was wonderful.