On arriving in New Zealand, I was greeted by a character from Lord of the Rings.

I was discombobulated for sure.

The creature knew my name. He was shouting it, welcoming me, dancing around ... or that's how I remember it.

My friend, Christine, could see that I was not quite on the planet after 40 hours spent crossing the world ... she shouted, 'You don't know him! Don't worry!'

I appreciated that because I had no idea but felt it was entirely possible that one of my old friends, 8 years unseen, might have been messing with me.

I had warned Gert that, in some instances, being loved by New Zealanders was a little like being loved by bears. They're rough, it may hurt as they verbally sting you, and you might feel attacked but mostly it's love.

And Peter, well there he was, behind-the-scenes, photographing that startlingly unusual welcoming committee.

I think I ‘arrive’ once there are flowers on the kitchen table ...

And here in Genova, there is always someplace to buy flowers for Paola’s round dining table; the table that somehow invites flowers, even if I haven’t quite organised a glass vase. As you can see, one of my water bottles has been sawn-off to play hostess to flowers bought at a market on Piazza Scio, where we also discovered a large market and the sweetest smallest tomatoes.

These last few days have been days of long conversations, where two old friends caught up on 5 years of absence and massive life changes. We reminisced, laughed over pizzas and red wine, caught boats and journeyed into that space we enjoy most – that place where the land meets the sea.

Genova was good to us, providing us with the very best focaccia, at the start of each day. Or, on alternate days, unbelievably good cappuccino. We had days of eating while we wandered. Cherry gelato, and inexpensive, yet delicious, red wines. Slow mornings and late nights.

Pippa came to me, already 2 weeks out of New Zealand, via Hawaii and Vienna, and our 5 days passed quicky. Yesterday we caught a train to Milan to say goodbye at an airport bus stop, in a city on fire with heat and humidity. We talked through the 2 hour train trip to Milan, and then, after the goodbye, I found a return, heading straight back to Genova.

That would be the train where the air-conditioning in my carriage was broken. Being a creature who prefers heat not too much above 20 celsius yesterday was a struggle. I struck out, through carriages, in search of a cool place only to find myself standing on tiptoes in a corridor, trying to catch something of the slightly cooler airas it came in through a high window.

A very short elderly woman spotted the breeze in my hair, and came to stand in front of me, continuing to fan herself furiously as the breeze was never going to reach her. We all laughed, her son too, and I resisted the temptation to offer to hoist her up to the high window.

Eventually a harried, sweating conductor came to our rescue and led us through to carriage 5 ... or I think that was what he was saying. I flopped into an air-conditioned 6-seat box room, with two men who left at the next stop. I could only smile over my own paranoia that they were moving away from this smelly foreign woman.

Those last tunnels before Genova held us captive longer than necessary, as our train queued to weave its way into the main station ... the station I didn’t really know how to get ‘home’ from.

I read bus stop options and decided that Bus 33 would reach Piazza De Ferrari eventually. I was too tired to do more than smile as Bus 33 climbed up into the hills behind Genova, the wrong direction entirely, and took me around the hilltops before heading back down to where I wanted to go.

But I got to see the city from the heights and it is a beautiful city.

In these days of wandering, without intending to talk with strangers, I have discovered some truly special people. The lovely man with the vegetarian cafe, Lorenzo from Cibi e Libri, who has since asked if one of my photographs of him might be used in an article for the Corriere della Sera. The man, and his wife, with the farinata shop close by and the pizzeria people … Via Ravecca, how do I love thee.

The woman who sells me my breakfast foccacia discovered I come from Nuova Zelanda today ... we reached a point of understanding and agreement via gestures and our few words in common, regarding the fact that we both loved our countries of origin but admired each other’s too.

The cafe where my favourite cappuccino is made is called Cafe Boomerang, in honour of the owners visit to Australia. And the gelato guy told me, ‘I love you!‘ when he realised I wanted the details of his shop for this website.

The internet cafe people are just as I left them last year but the vegetarian cafe has free wifi too, so I’ll wander between them, so as not to seem too internet needy perhaps ...

There is so much here in this tiny corner of the city, so much to love. I’m holidaying with Gert for a few days now, trying not to talk to or photograph interesting strangers but it’s difficult.

Even the man operating the boat trips to Camogli, San Fruttuoso and Portofino is going to cycle New Zealand next year.

It’s good to be back in Liguria.

Ciao for now.

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