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It has been almost a week since the mountain above Vernazza came crashing down upon this picturesque village. Tuesday, October 25, started as most mornings do, with errands and preparation for the lunch hour. The first of the rainy season’s storms was pouring down rain as usual for a late October day. The town’s people were about their business, going to the bank at the top of the hill, having caffé at the Blue Marlin Bar and my father-in-law was setting up for a long day of work remodeling a building on the mountain side. Everything seemed normal, but the rain was coming down so hard, the street had turned into a rushing stream. My father-in-law and the other workers had problems operating their equipment in such heavy rain, so they wisely decided to call it a day and head home.
The rain kept pouring down until the village became a rushing river. The cars in the parking lot above town began to get swept up by the water. The strong current carried cars and trucks down into town like they were nothing but toys. Some locals looked on from their balconies with disbelief as their cars rushed by below them.