A view on the hills shadowing Vernazza, hiking North.
When we opened our eyes the next morning, I remained sitted in the car and watched for a while the first sunrays pierce through the mist, casting bits of warmth on the hilly scenery. Then the harsh reality hit us, as we recalled the disturbing traffic of the passed night and realized how sore sleeping in the Mini had left us.
Despite being both quite tired we agreed to get going, but the soothing humming of the car quickly led me back to sleep. I only woke up at times to give Hugo directions, and the decision to use the freeway was later taken as the road seemed endless. We figured it was alright to give up the adventurous verve of driving on the small roads in order to spend more time where we knew we wanted to be.
To our pleasant surprise, we saved a significant amount of time and soon saw a sign spelling Levanto, the gate to Cinque Terre. The road started to display a wholly different array of vegetation, and the hills were now scattered with a mass of orange leaves. This was a very different landscape from the one I knew back in France, where the prevalent pine trees remain unchanged throughout the seasons.
The collection of warm quickly faded to unveil our destination at a turn in the road. Monterosso, the first village, was pinned on the coastline railways, silently emerging from the brisk valley. We parked the car and went in the first café to enjoy a tasty local breakfast of rich hot chocolate and focaccia with the fruits we had left. We were there at last, eager to explore the cliffs.
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