6+ Months     Hasta Luego     Days 122-157     Western sunrise     Days 85-122     Gaudi was right     Days 72-85     Barcelona rises     Days 59-71     Anchovies and Kitty Cats     Days 47-58     Patrino means paradise     Days 39-46     Alp d'Hamish     Days 24-38     French Laundry     Days 18-23     Conquering Britain!     Days 10-17     Made it to Mosjoen!     Days 6-9     Arrival in Frankfurt     Days 1-5     SF - Vancouver     - Email Leslie     - Email Sasha

September 26, 2004, Sasha Days 59-71 As Petrino disappeared behind us, our hearts grew heavy and we realized the end of our Tuscan paradise was upon us. Because we chose to take the ferry from Genova to Barcelona, it left us a few days to enjoy the northern Italian coast. And what better place to go than Cinque Terra! For those like me who had no idea about Italy's little gem on the coast, Cinque Terra is a protected area of coastline with 5 little villages built on the jagged seaside. They're a few kilometers apart and connected by a very well maintained walking path called the 'Blue trail.' The towns are pretty tiny and almost medieval looking, with streets far too narrow to even call streets. No traffic is allowed in the towns (it's no use, car's can't fit), so you must park just outside. Motorcycles can get a little closer :) The drive up from the closest city 'La Spezia' was breathtaking, similar to the road to Hanna on the Island of Maui. One lane, one car wide, and about as straight as a male hair stylist in the Castro. The towns were particularly crowded that week, but luckily we got a reservation in Cornelia, the smallest of the 5 towns and the only one perched on a cliff above the ocean. Well, it was kind of a reservation... It consisted of this guy Ernesto telling us to go to the bar in town and ask for a woman named Miss Carla, who will have a room for us. We did just that, and surprisingly it all worked out. There was pretty much one bar in town, and certainly only one Miss Carla who quickly arrived after being called by the bartender. She took us up the tiny little street into a tiny little doorway and up an equally tiny staircase into, you guessed it, a tiny little room. It was cute, and there was a balcony so we took it. It was Miss Carla's mother's place, a tiny old Italian woman with a very loud voice. She explained everything to us in Italian, very slowly and very loudly, and I mean everything. How to use the key, how to turn on the light, how to turn on the water faucet, not to make too much noise, how to hang up our clothes. I was surprised when she didn't return to tuck is in for the night! Oh, I almost forgot, on the way up to Cinque Terra, we were caught in a torrential downpour like I've never seen before. We were on the freeway and at one point it rained so hard that you couldn't tell where the rain was coming from, and it literally felt like we were underwater! Traffic slowed to a crawl and luckily I found a gigantic truck to follow. It was still daylight but if it wasn't for the truck I couldn't have seen the freeway. Needless to say we got off the road and found shelter at a gas station with 2 other motorcyclists from Germany (who had been there for 2 hours). The rain kept coming, as did the lightning, so we just said screw it and made a dash for the coast. Luckily the storm let up before too long and soon enough we were enjoying mild hurricane winds. 3 days in Cornelia was just what we needed. Well, it's a little excessive to say we 'needed' it after our stay in Petrino, but it was really really nice. We hiked fairly significant hikes each day, finally forcing ourselves to get some exercise. The apartment we rented was right in the center of the small village, so we were privileged to the antics of the locals who find a way to live among the tourists. The women seem to visit the tiny 'Almentaris' (corner shops) and stick around for an hour or so talking to the shop keepers and eachother. The men seem to hang out down by the water or in the town square chatting all day and well into the night. You can always tell who's talking because his hands are usually flying in the air in some kind of elaborate gesture. Kids kick soccer balls against the tiny Cathedral without much regard if the ball flies into the outdoor cafe filled with Germans. Never a dull moment if you watch for a little while. Amid all the excitement the time came to pack up Hamish the wunder bike one last time and head to Spain. Our route took us the very very long way to Genova, over a fairly Uninhabited and mountainous pass. In Italy it seemed like every restaurant is an Italian restaurant. Perhaps in the big cities you can find something else, but mostly it's all pizza, pasta, 3 course menus and wine. In the search for something even slightly different (Leslie was even considering Le Big Mac!) we stopped at a chinese restaurant near the ocean just south of Genova. It didn't look all that great, but we were desperate. Even mediocre Chinese food can be good sometimes. Genova is a hectic, unusual port city that moves at a frantic pace. It was made famous as the home of Colombus. We parked the bike and wandered around the medieval part of town for a while, then took a stroll down the main shopping street in search of a new book for Leslie. After driving around the confusing town for an hour, we ran into another motorcyclist who was very fascinated with our California plates. He enthusiastically sent us to an ugly but very good pizza joint which put us in a much better mood. The ferry to Barcelona was fun and frustrating at the same time. We had a nice little outside cabin with a window and spent most of the 18 hour trip sleeping and reading. But it was a quirky ship with restaurants only open for an hour at a time, and employees who mostly sat around smoking and talking to each other, and checking out the women. After we arrived we were welcomed to our new Spanish home by a trip up the Rambla (main pedestrian street) to meet our buddy Jan. And where's the perfect meeting place? The Hard Rock Cafe! We were still craving home cookin' so we indulged in a cheeseburger, fries and a shake at the big American icon. Oddly enough, the place was overrun by 12-14 year olds, mobile phone cameras in hand in search of Kurt Cobaine memorabilia. When Jan showed up it felt like we really arrived. She led us to our new apartment and we wasted no time setting up the place. Barcelona is a bizarre, fascinating, wonderful and often times frustrating place. More soon as our adventure continues... Love, Sasha and Leslie