Gelato in Vernazza

Trekking through the paths of Cinque Terre that connect all five of the little towns was an alluring idea for a more active, yet low-key holiday trip. Taking off in the morning light and following the small paths where each step is rewarded with a more beautiful view. Without any real prior knowledge of the outlook of the paths, the difficulty grading of "slight," "average," and "fair" were somewhat ambiguous. The meaning of "slight" was not very clear. "Slight" as in what? Slightly difficult? Okay, that is completely doable. This trip was on a budget, so a preference was made to pay to use the seaside path #2 for only one day and use the train only once. The first rains of the season were descending upon Cinque Terre, closing part of #2, so naturally alternate plans were made to take the other slightly more arduous paths to the next town over.

Manarola is the second smallest town out of the five after Corniglia and the aim was to get to Vernazza or at least follow down the path that was allegedly most rewarding from the tops of the hills straight to the ocean. Being in relatively higher-than-average shape, the smaller paths were well in the realm of possibility. So the ascension began to the higher altitudes of Cinque Terre where the paths weave about with greater ease.

"Slight" must be an understatement. At some points on the trek, there were barely centimeters between the hillside and certain serious injury - not death. Most of the falls will not kill you, exception of the ones that plunge into the rocks and the sea. The only thing between you and certain injury was keeping a steady hand on the cliffside and hope to see one of the few red and white trail markers to tell you where to go when the path becomes certainly unclear. Sometimes, you had to really strain and guess to see if a marker was coming up at all or find yourself going down the wrong path which looks exactly similar to the right one. More worrying is that some of the paths look infrequently visited and signs showed that it may have been a couple days since the last visitor, especially with the threats of rain and mudslides looming. Without a mobile, how will you be found? At the highest altitude of the trails around #1, there was a lone call-box in case of emergency. It was the only one. Hope for help from avid trekkers with their Nordic walking sticks found greater dependence.

After about 3 1/2 hours of getting or more feeling lost in the numerous paths and unsure if you followed 6a to get to 1 or whatever logical path numbering it is, Vernazza is in sight with a gradual and at the same time steep descent to sea level. The light spring jacket becomes a burden when the trees trap the heat taken in from the sun and the bag with a few necessities bears more weight than it should. And strangely, inadequate hiking shoes (mere walking shoes) served more help in avoiding a rolled ankle than off-road trainers. Ah...A tasty reward for this unforseeably long 4 hour trek without sufficient food or water was awaiting in the little town below of Vernazza.


As it became quite warm during the day, a nice big scoop of gelato seemed the most appetizing. It was not too overwhelming to fill a stomach that endured the stress of the possibility of being hopelessly lost and has been accustomed to starving during the difficult hike, yet extremely satiating. Plus, everything tastes better when your body needs it more. The most frequented place on the main street appeared to be the Gelateria Artigianale with its colorful sign and small store. People were decorating the streets sitting down to enjoy the Italian treat. The selection for that day was cherry and pistacchio. The idea of a light fruity taste seemed refreshing and pistacchio is a popular enough gelato flavor to set the standard measurement of all gelato. Quite creamy and melting easily but slowly, the gelato was not incredibly spectacular, but served its purpose. Perhaps it was the subdued flavors which proved inadequate to a tongue starved for substance and a little to eager to consume the entire cone. But yes, it was good. Really. Good. And the man scooping each serving did it with care, which is always appreciated because it shows pride in the craft.

The magnificence represented in cherry and pistacchio from Gelateria Artigianale was savored on a rocky outcrop close to the foot of the sea and the marina. The sight of the sea and the beautiful town behind you matched the satisfaction gained from one serving of gelato representing the long journey it took to get there.