Escape to Italy, Vol. 2

When we last left you, the intrepid foursome was just about to bid farewell to their mountain refugio in Lake Como after an invigorating morning hike. Look at that Italian flag lolling lazily in the mountain breeze! Oh, Italy.

But all was not to be so calm on the road ahead. No, sir. Not when the road to your campsite is made up of batshit crazy one-way tunnels! Here's a how-to of Italian tunnel-driving: wait twenty minutes for the light to turn green (no, there is no censor to pull up to, and if you suggest that to the Italian driver ahead of you, she will think you are insane...) and then blam through the series of tunnels at top speed, praying that you make it through before the light changes and cars start going the other way. Also tricky: turning out of the middle of said tunnel (!!!) into your campsite's parking lot. Luckily, Alesha is no stranger to speedy driving and various stunt maneuvers.

And so we were able to set up camp just outside of the Cinque Terre, the "five lands" of a particularly rugged and beautiful portion of the Italian Riviera, and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The five villages are connected by a hiking trail, once the only means of getting from one city to another, other than boat. The first part of the hike is extremely easy ("hike" used here in the sense of "stroll, and get jostled by the hordes of German tourists"), but things kick up a notch further down the trail, which thins out the crowds somewhat, and yields some pretty fantastic views...
As you can see from the picture below, sun protection became an issue for us pasty northern types. Alesha, however, is a human solar panel (maybe it's an Italian thing?).
Swiss Mister and Miss make it to Vernazza! Can you see the relief on our faces? Hike Master Alesha, fuelled by the sun, had set a rather jaunty pace for the journey (what Swiss Mister might have referred to as a "death march"), and so we were quite happy to hear that the road out of Vernazza had been blocked by a rockslide. Apparently we missed the most grueling part of the hiking trail, but we were okay with that. Swiss Mister especially.
We were able to recover with lots of time at the beach. The salt and the sun (as well as the general lack of showering) turned us into little greasy salt monkeys, but I think we pull off the look rather well.
And what would a trip to the Italian Riviera be without some EXTREME touristing. I almost didn't let Swiss Mister take this picture, but he won me over by convincing me it would be good blog material.
Awww... See what I mean about the greasy salt monkey thing? We became experts in the art of the Italian shower: that is, applying deodorant rather than bathing.
This is Max, showing off for his Italian girlfriend(s). No, not Alesha. The nonnas who kept clucking over how cute he was and how they were going to take him home with them. Who wouldn't? Look at him! Jazz hands!
Stay tuned for our third and final installment of our Italian adventure, in which Swiss Mister and Miss give the New York Times food critic from 1989 a run for her money.