Another great hike followed by dinner, where we met the only Italian who doesn’t like babies. He was our waiter. That’s really all I have to say about that.
After dinner we swirled through the town’s basil festival then raced to the train station in time to catch the last local. Then we were the Americans running up and down the stairs, darting back and forth between the platforms asking fellow travelers advice in Italian, asking in English. We finally settled on a track, the correct track, and made our way back easily after all.
Every day was sun-soaked. We walked, Phoebe rode and sometimes slept.
When we arrived in Manarola we bought two colorful prints (awaiting frames in Rome) from a lovely art store. Then it was gelato time.
Phoebe had just started walking that week and was a hilarious site to see, teetering through the villages, ice cream dripping from her happy little chin.
Finally we strode the easy 20-minute path to scenic Riomaggiore where frozen lemonades were quickly devoured along the boardwalk.
When we’d visited all five villages, we spent time at the Vernazza beach. Phoebe loves the water, waves and sand. And who can blame her? It was a great trip.