St. Paddy's Day

This weekend I stayed in Florence in the hopes of having a great St. Patrick's Day and catching the Fiorentina-Roma match on Sunday. Unfortunately, the stadium was still closed off to fans, so that was out of the question. Plus, the weather was really nice so a trip to the coast was too tempting to pass down. A lot of people were set on staying in town for St. Patrick's Day and to watch March Madness (which I have already lost interest in), so our camping crew was small: Myself, Matt, and Lauran Intinarelli. The plan was to start at Riomaggiore, the southernmost town of Cinqueterre, and hike down to Porto Venere, eventually ending up at the camping site we found last time on top of Isola Palmaria.

But first, back to Thursday night....

Gonzaga played at 2:45 a.m., and it was playing at Red Garter, the American bar thick with Boston Red Sox hats and semester kids. Regretfully, Matt and I showed up sometime around 9:30 p.m. and sat around watching games for literally over eight hours. It didn't help that all of them were blowouts except the Duke game, the only bright spot of the night. The Gonzaga game was rough and there were lots of Indiana fans there, and to be frank, they were chodes.

Friday I slept pretty much all day. I was glad when Saturday morning rolled around and we got on the train to Riomaggiore. We arrived at about 12:30 and walked along some beautiful coastal trails in search of the Red and White trail that would lead down to Porto Venere. It took us a long time to find the trail and we didn't have any success until we asked a man who pointed up to the church perched high atop the mountain overlooking Riomaggiore. Needless to say, the first stretch of the hike was the toughest. It was a pure climb and my bag was really heavy.

The Red and White trail down to Porto Venere was not quite what I expected. It was very long, but it wrapped inland for a while, taking us through a pine forest devoted to mountainbiking and other outdoor activity. When it returned to the coast, we were at a very high altitude and the view of the sea was breathtaking. You had to be careful not to get too distracted, however, because the trail was very difficult and there wasn't much room for error.

We finally descended into town around 5 p.m., giving us plenty of time to board a barchino that would take us across the harbor to Palmaria. This time it was a lot easier once we got to the island because we knew exactly where our campsite was. When we got to the top of the island, as we were walking along the road, two mule-like creatures startled us. I think they were those mini-horses that people raise and breed for some reason, but I'm not sure. Lauran started petting one of them, but then stopped as we debated whether or not it was a wild boar. We decided it wasn't and then parted ways with it.

The campsite was the same as usual, and we set up shop with a perfect view of the ocean and the sunset. There were some clouds looming on the horizon, but they meant no harm. As the sun descended, I broke out a surprise: four Guinnesses and three cups to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. We weren't out at the pubs celebrating our Irish heritage, but I don't think I could've chosen a better place to be at that moment.

We talked for a while, but we were so tired that we drifted off around 7 p.m. because we were so tired from all the hiking. But we ended up rallying and watching the stars pretty late into the night. In fact, Miller took a dip and I enjoyed the final Guinness sometime around midnight. I didn't sleep too well that night, mainly because I just don't sleep well in the open air, but at one point I was wide awake and saw a clear sky full of stars. I ended up dozing off after that and not waking up until 10 a.m. the next morning.

We explored the town a little the next day and then took the train back into Florence. Another weekend, another incredible experience. I'd say the luck of the Irish on St. Paddy's Day had a little to do with it, but then again, we've been having "luck" like this all year long.