Swimming and saffron rather than sleep deprivation and chocolate buns:
In this travelogue you will find out why my 2021 photo trip was fondly remembered, despite the fact I haven’t been very productive, and the tour ultimately ended in a disaster.
In case you are only interested in the whereabouts of the visited spots (along with some useful information), head over to the locations part.
Without further ado: Welcome to a touch of Dolce Vita, Cinque Terre style!

Part I: Prologue, Arrival & “A Vernazza High”

Part II: Beach Life, Dutch Courage & “Spiky Manarola”

Part III: Walking on Eggshells, Sabine & “Fond Memories”

Part IV: Reunion & “Riomaggiore on the Rocks”

I'm still in Malta with my wife, but there are only 6 more weeks to go until my annual photo tour is coming up again. Considering this rather tight time frame, I should have decided on a destination long ago, but making those choices got increasingly harder for me in the last couple of years. It’s not like I’m running out of worthwhile destinations after having visited 25 countries so far, quite the opposite! Rather, the huge range of locations still open seems to overwhelm me.

On Facebook, I stumble across a beautiful picture of an Italian village, taken by my photographer colleague Thomas Rieger. It features Riomaggiore, one of 5 villages of the Cinque Terre region, which was already target of my photographic ambitions in 2018.

Back then, my friend Maurice and I had to reschedule due to severe storms in the region, but now the time has finally come to visit the Cinque Terre region - mainly for the following two reasons: first, the geographical proximity of the villages to each other saves me long travels between the individual locations, and second, most of the spots there are most suitable for sunset- rather than sunrise photography, which is extremely welcome to me as a night person and natural born late riser.

I get in touch with Thomas, who unfortunately broke his foot on his trip, and ask him about his personal impressions and experiences regarding his visit to Cinque Terre. He willingly provides me not only with information about the journey and the locations, but also gives me some valuable tips about traffic and accommodation possibilities.

At this point, thank you once again for your great and valuable support, dear Thomas - I owe you!

On the way to Amsterdam airport, I perceive how the joyful anticipation of the upcoming trip is dampened by a resolution I made for this trip: Besides photography, I want to make good use of the time in Italy to make my mind about the meaningfulness of my professional future as a special education nurse.
I have been working for 25 years at a home for children and juveniles with mental disabilities, but due to negative changes in institutional conditions and constant overtime in understaffing, I am considering quitting - although I still enjoy this work very much and would miss both my dear colleagues and the residents entrusted to us very much.

I am brushing these thoughts aside for now. In the course of the next few days, being far away from all professional and family obligations, I will have more than enough time to come to terms with this far-reaching decision.

A bit of stress comes up now, since I get stuck in a minor traffic jam close to Amsterdam. After all, I still have to drop off the car at the reserved valet parking and must not miss my flight from Schiphol to Pisa under any circumstances. From there I am going to take the train via La Spezia to Vernazza, where I will stay at my host Ivo‘s small, but nice-looking AirBnB for five nights.

Arriving at the airport, I have to laugh out loud about the cuteness of the Dutch language, yet again: A sign refers to the need to wear a protective mouth-nose mask, but in the Netherlands they apparently go with the much more adorable name "Mondkapjes". Mondkapjes - I'm cracking up!
Otherwise, though, the Corona regulations seem to be handled surprisingly loosely. On the whole outward journey I don’t have to show neither my vaccination certificates, nor the "Passenger Locator Form", which is allegedly needed to be able to enter Italy in the first place.

Shortly after arriving in La Spezia, I do inform my host Ivo about my imminent arrival. At 6:45 pm he picks me up at the pharmacy in Vernazza, which lies only 100 meters away from the local train station. Right next to the pharmacy is the entrance to the booked accommodation, and Ivo tells me that my room is on the top floor. He kindly offers to carry my suitcase up the stairs, but out of consideration for his age I politely decline with thanks. Shrugging his shoulders, Ivo goes ahead. Why is he smiling so maliciously now?

Four floors later I know why - drenched in sweat. But according to my host I am not the first who underestimates the physical challenges of this house’s steep staircase.
After he has shown me the room and provided me with tips and hints for Vernazza, I unpack the necessities and decide to explore the town a bit - not at last to find a restaurant in order to appease my growling stomach after the 12-hour journey.

I’m a bit confused as soon as I step outside. When I had arrived in Vernazza, I saw legions of tourists pushing through the town, but now there are hardly any people on the streets anymore.
Once I reach the harbor, I immediately regret that I, having assumed it is way too dark already, haven’t taken my gear with me. The sight of Vernazza lying under moonlit clouds is surely worthy to be captured with a proper camera rather than by smartphone only.

The following search for a restaurant turns out to be unexpectedly difficult, since many establishments are already closed or only offer drinks at this time. Obviously, most localities are focused on the numerous day tourists who usually leave the town early in the evening. At a place called "5 Terre Bistrot", I am finally successful and get hold of not only a beer, but also of a tiny portion of ravioli, which sadly isn’t any better than Maggi’s well-known canned counterpart.

Last night I hardly found any sleep. Over and over again my thoughts revolved unsuccessfully around a potential solution for the already mentioned problem with my job as a curative education nurse. Having two children and a wife working in opposite shifts, it has always been difficult for me to organize everyday life without completely giving up personal freedom. However, months of unfilled positions due to the shortage of skilled workers, which has been worsening for years, and the resulting extra work (often by filling in on the rare free weekends), seem to have exceeded my strain threshold now. I am really angry about my employer not taking these burdens seriously, and that all our proposals to alleviate them have been rejected so far.

I’m about to cry with rage, but instead I fall back into lethargic brooding. Until 11:00 am, I neither come up with a solution to my problem nor am I able to leave the bed. Why the heck am I actually dealing with this now? Instead of being happy about spending an obligation-free week of photography in one of the most beautiful places in the world, I lie in bed gloomily - and just do not manage to get myself up.

Only when I decide, contrary to my resolution, to stop thinking about my job problem during this vacation and rather try to enjoy the coming days to the fullest, I manage to grab the backpack in order to make my way towards the desired spots for today's sunset.

Without breakfast and thus empty stomach I follow the signs of the southern hiking trail to the neighboring village of Corniglia, and after a short while I find the viewpoint with probably the most attractive view of Vernazza.

The rather limited space providing an unobstructed view of the city doesn't offer many compositional possibilities, yet I invest 30 minutes to determine the optimal position for my tripod and the required focal length. In my experience, good preparation is often key to a successful image, especially when things get hectic during the actual shoot, as was the case with one of my images at Greece's Meteora Monasteries.

Since the way to an alternative viewpoint on the opposite side of the harbor leads me down to Vernazza again, I make a small stopover in town and treat myself to a meal of "Pasta Frutti di Mare". Delicious, but somehow I am too stupid to handle the seafood properly, so that quite a lot of shell pieces get into the noodles.

With shell-grinding teeth I am fighting the countless stairs leading up to the other viewpoint. However, a few hundred meters before reaching that place, I can’t continue, since the liable part of the hiking trail to Monterosso al Mare seems to begin here. Just for the purpose of scouting the spot I don’t want to invest the 7.50 euros the grim looking path troll is demanding, especially since I hope for an unmanned control booth later in the evening.  Anyone with a Cinque Terre Card will have no problems here, but since I am neither here for hiking, nor in the need of more than two train rides per day, a purchase of this card would not have paid off for me. However, if you want to explore Cinque Terre’s much-touted hiking trails, and/or commute between the villages several times a day, the following information might be helpful to you:

In general, only the following trails are chargeable during the high season (between March 18 and November 5):
Vernazza - Monterosso, Vernazza - Corniglia, Manarola - Riomaggiore (currently closed, expected reopening: 7/2024).

There is a 7.50 euro fee per trail unless you have the Cinque Terre Card. This card is sold both online and at the National Park's information offices, as well as in the train stations of La Spezia, Levanto and at every Cinque Terre train station. It is available in two versions:

• The Cinque Terre Trekking Card gives you access to all footpaths and costs 7.50 euros for a one-day card and 14.50 euros for a two-day card (adults).

• The Cinque Terre Treno MS Card includes unlimited train rides on the regional trains on the Levanto - Cinque Terre - La Spezia route, in addition to the access to the hiking trails. The card costs 18.20 euros for a one-day card, 33 euros for a two-day card and 47 euros for a three-day card for adults (3 consecutive days).

More information about the Cinque Terre Card can be found here:

Without having achieved anything, I head back down to Vernazza. The harsh light in the early afternoon isn’t very photogenic, so I content myself with a few snapshots on the way, treat myself to an ice cream at the harbor - and decide to catch up on some sleep.

The first thing I do when the alarm clock rings at 18:00, is to check for the weather and cloud situation. It doesn’t look like a colorful sunset should be expected, so I choose against photographing in a western direction at the first spot. Consequently, I hoist the heavy camera bag, trudge up the stairs into the direction of Monterosso al Mare instead and am highly pleased that the troll has cleared his booth in the meantime - and thus can‘t raise his toll.

Having finally reached the spot, I briefly enjoy the sight of Vernazza, which is also very beautiful from up here. On the downside I quickly realize that an unwelcome limit is drawn in my compositional options: I have to photograph above some rather high and unattractive grasses growing at the shooting location, as these would certainly blur in the wind during the necessary long exposures around nightfall.

Just keeping the grass tips out of the frame, I tilt the camera down as far as possible, but a test shot confirms my fear of shooting a rather unbalanced image. Lacking a more attractive alternative, however, I have no choice but to accept this fact.

While I am still fumbling with the subtleties of the composition, I get company by a young couple who has apparently met here for sunset picnic. Although the two lovebirds only have eyes for themselves after a brief greeting, I still feel uncomfortable when the drone I've brought with me rises with the typical takeoff noise.

After a few somewhat awkward flight maneuvers in front of Vernazza, which are due to my lack of practical experience, things are getting hot.
Not so much because the couple is now smooching so wildly and uninhibitedly that I'm not sure they won't accidentally eat each other, but rather because of the insistent warning tone of the drone’s remote control. My Mavic Mini's battery capacity is nearly depleted and may be just sufficient to fight its way back to me against the wind. Unfortunately, I have trouble to locate my own position in the highly reflective cell phone display - and to make matters worse, I lose visual contact with the drone.

Thankfully, the built-in automatic takes control of the landing approach with the help of the saved takeoff position, so I only have to manually control the last few meters of the maneuver. Sweaty, I stow the drone and make good resolutions to study its manual in detail as soon as possible. Looking around, I am relieved my neighbors didn’t take any notice of the incident and are, despite their cannibalistic activities, still unharmed.

After sunset, the lights of the city gradually awaken, and at the onset of the blue hour, the sparsely distributed clouds even start to show some color. Just too bad they are all located in my back, making me acknowledge it was the wrong decision to not shoot from the other, westbound location tonight. Well, to say it with the words of the US-comedian Jonathan Winters: "Life is a shit sandwich. But if you’ve got enough bread, you don’t taste the shit.” I guess the bread I have to work with is "A Vernazza High", the first proper image of this year's photo tour:

When the remaining light of the sky becomes too weak around 21:30, I stow back my gear. As soon as I am back in town, I am on the lookout for a suitable restaurant, which still serves warm food. With the Ananasso Bar at the harbor I find a place that is willing to accept my pizza order.
I am more than looking forward to get some food - after all, already 10 hours have passed since I had a proper meal. As my little daughter once put it vividly: My lips are already rocking! Although I am more or less the only guest, the fulfillment of my order takes an unusually long time. When, after a perceived eternity, a pizza-carrying waiter finally approaches my table, I am nothing but a Pavlovian dog. At the sight of the burnt mafia pie, slight disappointment spreads, but with the help of two beers the larger part of this dubious culinary pleasure slides down rather well in the end.

I slept in today, got myself some bread and a liter of milk from the supermarket and had breakfast at the harbor. Other than that, I spent the day idly enjoying the sun on my skin, the smell of the sea in my nose, and some good music in my ears. Life can be so easy and wonderful ...

Meanwhile, I learned how to catch a drone by hand by watching a video tutorial, read the manual of my Mavic Mini, and did beyond that absolutely nothing until early afternoon.

However, around 16:00 I find myself in Manarola, searching for a potential blue hour compositions of the town. I come across a rather fresh and unique view at the dock, but for my liking there are way too many sunbathing and swimming people around.

I could, of course, take my position on the coastal path, which offers plenty beautiful views of Manarola, but it's even busier there than at the dock, and the composition wouldn't be particularly original.

The more I think about it, the more appealing the idea becomes to climb over the railing of the path and descend the rugged rock formation to include them as an interesting foreground element in my shot.

Although it's quite steep for a few meters, I don’t worry too much about the danger, since I've successfully pulled off much riskier maneuvers in the past. The only thing holding me back is the thought of drawing the attention of the numerous tourists with such an action - which I find to be rather unpleasing. I decide to go back to town to calmly contemplate my plan over a beer:

• The gates of the barrier, spaced at regular intervals, are all locked and carry a warning sign, but it doesn't seem explicitly forbidden to access the rocks.

• The sea is calm, so there's absolutely no danger of being surprised and swept away by a large wave.

• Ultimately, I couldn't care less about the attention of the tourists, since nobody here knows me anyway.

Decision made. To maintain the courage I've gathered, I proactively pour a second can of beer into my head, return to the coastal path and intone a cheerful tune as I climb over the fence. I'm absolutely sold on my performance; one has to assume that crossing barriers is my bread and butter. Since the rocks are unexpectedly sharp-edged, I drop my camera backpack further up to regain freedom of movement and search for composition-supporting foreground elements.

After shooting multiple variants with my phone and comparing them afterwards, I settle on what seems to be the most suitable vantage point and retrieve my abandoned camera equipment.

The next 20 minutes I struggle with the tripod, which stubbornly refuses to fit between the rocks at the desired spot, but in the end victory is mine! The following test shot leaves me satisfied with the chosen composition and also confirms I focused on the right distance to get sufficient sharpness in both the foreground and background.

Having prepared well so far, I start thinking about the inevitable ascent later in the evening. The rock wall doesn't appear particularly high from down here, but nonetheless remarkably steep. I really hope that climbing up in the darkness with the heavy camera bag on my back won't pose any problems:

Since I still have plenty of time until the onset of the blue hour, I capture some footage with the Mavic drone and am glad that I watched the tutorial with the topic "How to catch a drone by hand" today. Landing the drone normally in the rugged terrain around me would be hardly possible. Concerned about my fingers (but as smooth as a ninja!) I pluck the excitedly buzzing drone out of the air and swiftly turn it upside down. Immediately, the rotors come to a halt: Mission accomplished!

As usual, I won't be altering the composition I found for my image throughout the evening. Besides occasionally clicking the remote shutter and gradually extending the exposure time, no further actions are required on my part, so I can finally switch to my favorite photography mode, "See & Enjoy."

While small waves gently lap against the rocks and some cooler breezes ring the nearby wind chimes occasionally, I observe the changing conditions attentively. During the golden hour before sunset, Manarola’s colorful houses glow more intensely in the warm light. As the sun sinks below the horizon, the shadows become softer and the contrast range of the scenery decreases. Alongside the gradual cooling of the predominant color temperature, the first lights of the town awaken. Initially, the street lamps dominate, but as darkness deepens, more and more windows start to light up.

The image "Spiky Manarola" comes to life...

When around 20:30 the residual light of the sky can no longer brighten up the deeper shadows in the town, I pack up my belongings, shoulder the backpack, and begin to cautiously climb up the rocks. Unfortunately, I grab multiple times accidentally into some cactus-like plants that adorn both my hands with countless tiny spikes. A few moments later, I jump, slightly battered but happy, over the railing and set off in high spirits back to Vernazza.

Since I invested two hours in "Project Paw Detangling" last night and went to bed rather late as a result, I slept in this morning. While still lying in bed, I make rough plans for the day: after breakfast, I want to spend the day at the beach and decide spontaneously in the evening whether I'll photograph here in Vernazza or in Riomaggiore, depending on how the cloud situation develops.

After dressing up in my swim shorts and packing the backpack with the essentials, I set out to find a nice place for breakfast. It's already early noon now, and the local eateries are clearly not geared towards late risers. Despite the negative experience on Tuesday evening - but appropriate for the time of day - I order a pizza and am pleasantly surprised to be served an excellent one.

At the beach, I find a still unoccupied spot on a large rock and spend some relaxing hours with sunbathing, swimming, listening to music, and reading. I am amused watching a group of young women, half-submerged in the water, photographing each other with their phones to refresh their Instagram profiles and expertly striking the well-known and always identical standard poses. The great contrast between the undoubtedly beautiful and elegant end result on one hand, and the clumsy slapstick dance the ladies perform due to the rocky seabed on the other, is hilarious.

The conflicting forecasts of the weather apps I consulted throughout the day don't really help in choosing a spot for the evening shoot. If there's a chance of a beautiful sunset, I would like to photograph Vernazza towards the setting sun. If not, Riomaggiore with a northeast view would be on the agenda. Ultimately, I decide on the first option because there are a few high clouds in the sky. During the blue hour they might catch some warm light from the then already sunken sun. Due to the limited space available at the location, I want to take my position two hours before sunset, so I leave the beach at 16:00, grab my camera backpack, and make my way up the steep path to the spot.

Damn it! Despite being on location overly punctual at 5:15 p.m., another photographer is already present and has set up his tripod exactly where I had planned to take my shot.
While looking for an alternative vantage point and making the necessary preparations, I strike up a conversation with the spot thief. Jim is from Dallas, 70 years old, and with his wife Jill on vacation here in the Cinque Terre. A while later, a professional photographer named Tony joins us. The three of us get along excellently and have animated conversations as more and more people gather for sunset.

To celebrate the extremely positive atmosphere, I would like to raise a toast with my new acquaintances, but my brought PET cola bottle doesn't quite cut it for this purpose, of course. Jim and Tony quickly agree to my invitation and keep an eye on my equipment while I sprint down to Vernazza to get us three cans of beer.
On the way back, I run into Jim's wife, who takes my promise to look after her husband once we are finished with photographing. She's a bit worried that he might have difficulties with some of the rather steep and uneven stairs later on in the darkness. Sure enough, I will comply with her request.

Back at the spot, I toast with Jim and Tony, who have made contact with a female photographer during my absence. I have a pleasant conversation in English with her before we realize that we're both German. Sabine is from Berlin and had to embark on the trip without her partner, who couldn't make it to Italy due to work commitments. Her natural demeanor immediately makes her very likable to me.

I would love to chat with her a bit longer, but photography-wise things become extremely interesting as well now.
The impulsive decision to choose Vernazza for tonight proves to be a stroke of luck: On this beautiful late summer evening, we witness together the sun setting behind the mountains of the bay, followed by an unexpected vibrant coloring of the high clouds.

To my surprise, Tony starts packing his gear now and wants to bid farewell, even though what I consider the most attractive lighting situation is yet to come. From experience, I know that the afterglow can last a long time with such high clouds, offering the possibility of capturing an image that not only relies on the beautiful sky over Vernazza, but also benefits from the soon-to-be-lit lights of the town.

However, Tony believes the highlight of the photography evening has passed with the disappearance of the sun. My arguments fall on deaf ears; he simply can't be persuaded to stay. As we still want to stay in touch, he hands me his business card, tips his hat, and leaves Jim, Sabine, and me alone.

As expected, shortly after that, the streetlights turn on, and as the darkness slowly deepens, the number of lights behind the windows of Vernazza increases:

It's not until around 20:15, almost a whole hour after sunset, that we pack up our cameras. By now, we've noticed that the balance of brightness between the artificial lighting and the remaining light in the sky has shifted definitively against us: While the landscape and the unlit parts of Vernazza gradually sink into deep blackness, the bright city lights appear too dominant now. As promised, Sabine and I accompany Jim safely down to the village and bid him a warm farewell.

By now, I'm quite hungry, but before heading to a restaurant, I definitely need to take a shower: I still feel the salt from the seawater on my skin.

Although Sabine has similar plans, I don't want to impose myself on her by suggesting having dinner together. We say goodbye with the loose prospect of possibly crossing paths later, and chances aren’t too bad: after all, Vernazza isn’t a particulary large town.

Proudly, I can announce that this morning I achieved the "Lazy Triple Award" by sleeping in three times in a row - an absolute rarity for me. Since our older daughter started school, the alarm rings at 6:00, even on late shift days. That has made me so accustomed to waking up early that I usually wake up naturally at 7:00 - even on those rare days off.

With this overdose of sleep, a nearly forgotten attitude to life takes hold: Instead of dragging myself through the day with dark circles under my eyes, I am in a great mood and chirpy right after opening the window in the morning. Delighted by the sight that is offered to me I am looking forward to the day ahead, which I plan to spend similar to yesterday: Visiting the beach and going for an evening shoot - probably in Riomaggiore.

After a hearty breakfast at my newly chosen favorite restaurant, which is just a few steps away from my accommodation (literally on the opposite side of the street), I grab my day backpack and find myself by the water just 10 minutes later.
There, I let the sun shine on my skin, read a lot, listen to music, and occasionally jump from a small rock into the sea for a refreshing dip. The only downside to this otherwise extremely relaxed day at the beach is when I slip climbing the same rock - and get a slightly deeper cut on my foot. Fortunately, a friendly Italian couple on the spot takes care of me expertly.

In the early afternoon, I start thinking about the best vantage point for the evening shot. I study many photos of Riomaggiore taken by other photographers and try to determine the shooting positions of the more appealing compositions using Google Earth. The result of this research confirms my intuitive preference to take a position on the town’s breakwater during the blue hour. As a precaution, I contact Thomas again, since he broke his foot exactly in this place a few months ago. According to him, the piled rocks can be quite slippery when wet, but other than that, I shouldn't get any problems with my plan.

Around 17:30, I arrive in Riomaggiore by train and am instantly overwhelmed by the crowds of people bustling here. Not that it was calm during the day in Vernazza and Manarola, but this amount of tourist masses pushing through the narrow streets at a snail's pace is a novelty for me.
Just before reaching the location, my progress suddenly comes to a complete halt. On the steps leading up to the harbor, a never-ending stream of people is coming towards me on the left side, while foot traffic in my direction is blocked by a woman calmly taking photos at this bottleneck. When she turns around after drawing her attention to the problem with an only moderate politely intoned "EXCUSE ME?", I am briefly tongue-tied: Against all odds, in the chaotic hustle and bustle of Riomaggiore, I coincidentally stumbled upon Sabine, whom I had met the night before in Vernazza.

She also seems delighted about the unexpected reunion, and in the midst of this, I almost forget that we are now blocking the way to the harbor as a duo. Furthermore I can see from here that some spots on the breakwater are already occupied by other photographers, and since I fear to not get my desired spot, I have to move on quickly - which unfortunately makes our encounter short-lived. I inform Sabine about my plans and really hope to see her again later.

Since yesterday evening, doubts about the appropriateness of my seemingly disinterested farewell after the Vernazza shoot have been creeping in from time to time. I haven't often experienced such a completely irrational familiarity developing with a complete stranger within minutes. I'm married, she's in a committed relationship—and yet I was afraid that she might misunderstand an invitation for a shared dinner and find it rather intrusive.

Instead of dwelling on such thoughts, I should concentrate more on the steps right in front of me, quite literally. Although the massive rocks piled up in front of Riomaggiore are, due to the calm sea, dry and provide good foothold for shoes, I definitely don't want to do the infamous "Thomas-Move" and break my foot.
Therefore, I make my way with the heavy camera backpack hanging on my back extra carefully - until I finally reach the center part of the breakwater safe and sound.

Upon reaching my destination, I unfortunately realize that the perfect spot is indeed already occupied. It takes almost 30 minutes to find an alternative viewpoint that works not only compositionally, but also provides a stable position for my tripod.
On one hand, the boats drifting in front of the city concern me because they can't be sharply captured in long-exposure shots. On the other hand, the diagonal line of the anchored boat in the left foreground adds some welcome dynamic to the composition.

While waiting for the blue hour, I look increasingly often and worried at the sky because the clouds moving over the city seem to be getting thicker and heavier quite rapidly. I really hope it will stay dry until I take my shot, as otherwise, the return journey over the breakwater would be considerably more challenging due to both darkness and the risk of slipping. Shortly after sunset, Sabine joins me, providing some welcome company on my rock. When around 19:40 the artificial city lights‘ brightness harmonizes perfectly with the remaining light in the sky, my interpretation of this evening in Riomaggiore is born:

15 minutes later, Sabine and I carefully make our way back over the rocks, overcome our restraint and decide to finish the nice evening this time with having dinner together. After being on the lookout for a little while, we find a nice restaurant but have to settle for a table indoors.
Once again, I'm amazed at how quickly a familiar atmosphere develops between us, allowing us to have natural and relaxed conversations that are completely free from any superficialities.

During our conversation, I learn, among many other things, that Sabine often enjoys fine dining.
Her expertise is now more than welcome as I've been contemplating for the last few minutes whether the unknown strange garnish on my pasta is edible or merely for decorative purposes.
Sabine finds my lack of knowledge amusing and informs me that I'm actually being served one of the most exquisite and expensive spices in the world - saffron threads.

While I should feel slightly embarrassed about this gap in my knowledge, Sabine has her own problem: As she's struggling to make progress with her noodles, I assume her dish isn’t to her liking. When asked, she confesses with a laugh that she intentionally eats slowly and cautiously because she finds the almost unavoidable slurping with spaghetti uncomfortable in front of me. It doesn't have to be uncomfortable at all, but nonetheless, I'm glad that in the great contest of awkwardness, it's now tied at 1:1.

After paying the bill, we grab a drink and sit by the water near the harbor. We get so engrossed in conversation that I unfortunately have to hurriedly say goodbye to Sabine in order to catch the last train to Vernazza. I would love to spend more time in Cinque Terre with her, but tomorrow I'll be embarking on the journey back home with mixed feelings. Back to my dear family, but also back to the still unresolved issue regarding my professional future.

Right at the last day of the trip, my streak of sleeping in also comes to an end.
After returning to Vernazza last night around 22:45, I started packing most of my belongings and then experimented with a lot of different editing styles for the Riomaggiore picture until 2:00 in the morning.
Around 6:30, the sounds of awakening Vernazza penetrate through the open window, rudely pulling me out of my dreams. Bone-tired, I shiver under the cold shower for 10 minutes, but the desired effect doesn't come: I'm still completely exhausted and far from wanting to accomplish anything significant. After a short phone call, my host Ivo kindly agrees to store my luggage well beyond the checkout time, as I have to depart for Amsterdam via La Spezia and Pisa not before early afternoon.

Still sleepy, I clumsily descend the long staircase step by step, cross with half-closed eyes the street and take a seat at a table in Pizzeria Basso, which has become almost my hangout in the meantime.

An hour, two coffees, and three large chocolate pastries later, I'm finally somewhat awake. When I receive the bill about only 6.60 euros for the entire breakfast, I seize the opportunity to thank the owner of the restaurant not only for the reasonable prices and delicious food but also for the exceptionally friendly service over the past few days.

To pass time until my departure, I buy some souvenirs for the children before visiting Vernazza’s rocky beach one more time, but due to the dense clouds and unusually strong wind, I don't feel like diving into the waves again. Instead, I daydream away with pleasant music in my headphones and read some more pages before setting off.
On the way back to the AirBnB, I spot a man lying motionless in a very peculiar pose on a rock at the beach. Mentally, I begin to prepare for the possibility of needing to perform resuscitation, but after a brief observation, I'm relieved to find that despite appearances, he's actually fine. I pick up my luggage from Ivo and thank him for the pleasant and uncomplicated stay. During the farewell, he offers once again to help me carry my luggage downstairs. Being a quick learner, I'm fascinated as I watch him effortlessly descend the staircase with my suitcase skillfully balanced on his head..

Nothing special happens during the train journey from La Spezia to Pisa, except for being asked for my ticket by an inspector for the first time - in the past few days, I could have easily traveled without one.

However, at Pisa Airport, I find myself in a somewhat bizarre situation: while checking my flight details on my phone while walking, I almost collide with a man wearing a light-colored hoodie. When I look up, I'm confused: for a few seconds, I think I've discovered a glitch in the matrix because suddenly there are only similarly dressed hoodie wearers around me.
It dawns on me that some rather important people are around when I'm abruptly barked at in Italian and notice the presence of security personnel. Apparently, I nearly ran through the AC Milan team, who are returning home after a victorious match against Spezia Calcio.

This little highlight should mark the end of my in every aspect extraordinary 2021 photo tour. I have to admit I was quite lazy and came home with only four presentable pictures.
Yet, I will cherish the memories of this truly special time when I could simply be myself, free from all family and work obligations. Spending some days of slow life, meeting nice people, and capturing beautiful places in photographs: Life in the Cinque Terre was so beautiful!
But the following is also part of the truth: a few days later, I will experience a breakdown, hitting hard on the ground of professional reality.
Three months later, I find myself in a day clinic with a burnout diagnosis, suddenly being encouraged to embark on fantasy journeys, work with soapstone, or color mandalas. More than anything else during this time, I am preoccupied with the question of how this development had taken place.
In spring 2022, my request for reduced working hours is finally approved in the light of the experienced burnout, allowing me to better balance my professional, family, and personal interests since then.

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