Cinque Terre, and Ree-oh-mamamia

I had been told that this was not to be missed, even if it is a little out of the way. Having been there, I can say that this is not to be missed, even if it a little out of the way. And how far away is anywhere in Italy, especially when you are travelling east-west? In this case, not far at all.
The Cinque-Terre (http://www.cinqueterre.it/en/index.asp) is a national park bordering the west coast, consisting of five tiny towns. These used to have economies based on fishing and farming (mostly grapes and olives). Farming steep cliffs isn't easy, and over the last few hundred years the peoples there have terranced the entire area with dry fit rocks. Apparently there is more stonework there than in the entire great wall of China. Paths along the ocean link the towns (as does a train, now), and the area has become an extremely popular tourist destination. I aimed to find out why.
So feeling once again secure in my skills at navigating the trenitalia schedules, I hoof it out of freezin' Firenze, unaccosted by pickpockets, miscreants, and unfortunately, 20 year old Italian girls, to the station. My route to the QT will take me through Pisa, but the way the timing went, it made more sense to visit there on the way out. I did manage to freeze for an hour on the train platform in Pisa while waiting for my transfer.

No matter; it allowed me to track down the track and ticket office dedicated to the QT express. I suppose that this would be better marked in peak season (or there would be a multitude of people to follow around), but now it was tucked away wayyyy at the end of the station. The nice lady there told me I would need to detrain in Riomaggiore, as indicated on the ticket.
"Ree-oh-meeya-JORE-ay?"
"Nonono...Ree-oh-mah-jee-ORE-ay"
"Ree-oh...mah-ja-ROH-ray?"
"Nonono...Ree-oh-mah-jee-ORE-ay"
OK. Try again.
"Ree-oh...mee-JOH-ray?"
"Nonono!!...Ree-oh-mah-jee-ORE-ay!!!"
"Sigh".
It's like I drunk too much out of my collapsicable wine glass.
Well, wherever it was I was heading, I parked myself on the platform and waited for the train, which arrived and left in the span of seconds. This was pointed out to me in the Rick Steve's bible, so I was ready and able to board. I somehow managed to get in the wrong class of service, however, leaving me worried about getting caught with the rich folk holding a cattle car ticket. And wouldn't you know it, this would be the one time a conductor comes around checking tickets.
The fellow looks at my ticket and gives me a dirty look. Says something in Italian I don't understand at all. I'm thinking at this point it might be a good time to take my US buddy Dan Fitz's advice and talk highly of George Bush. Instead, I point at my map and stutter "Ree-oh...mah-ja-ROH-ray?"

"Nonono...Ree-oh-mah-jee-ORE-ay". And he leaves me alone. It is good to be incompetent sometimes.
Well, the trip is short, but scenic, and as soon as you can say "Ree-oh..." oh, forget that - I detrain in..that town.