Day 2, in Genova

I'm lying here, on my borrowed bed, looking out through the massive open windows in front of me, wondering I might go back to sleep here.

I love this apartment.  It's just a divinely small package of cute but the fact that it's located above two bars in the 'happening' centre of the city means that falling asleep is something you need to relearn. The noise kicks off about 10pm and has still been going at 2am, when I've finally fallen asleep.

But the view and location is divine otherwise.

Life is delicious otherwise.  I'm slowly slowly catching up with everyone I quietly adore here.  Last night we wandered along to a tasting of the loveliest wines at Le Gramole. Wine like I had never tasted before.  They don't have a website but the white wines were extraordinary and the reds were good too.  The company was lovely and I need to find out more before I write on what we tasted.

We had a lovely university student called Raffaele patiently translating my questions to Italian to the guys in charge of pouring and explaining the wines.  Then Barbara arrived at Le Gramole too and there was much laughter.

Back at the apartment, we 3 had a dinner made up of food from the Bio shop and from Le Gramole.  Mozarella, with sweet juicy tomatoes, focaccia, and a bottle of the white wine just tasted down at the Le Gramole wine-tasting. 

Tonight is about meeting up with Donatella and Luciano and there's a good espresso to find this morning and some people to see.  The weather is exquisite, the people lovely.  It's so very good to be back.

Below is a glimpse from the wine-tasting. We were the first people there ... it filled up later.

My Dad's been in hospital these last few days and we finally got what seems like good news.  Fingers crossed.

But Genova ...

You can't visit Genova, in Italy, and not taste the pesto.  It's the home of pesto.

Well, if you have an allergy, okay ... you could miss the pesto but otherwise, you will taste of the most sublime pesto ever made while visiting that ancient Italian city. 

They know what they're doing there.  You can taste the difference.

 

 

Drogheria Torrielli, Genova

Anna and Emanuela, from Beautiful Liguria, took me wandering one day …deep into the heart of the medieval section of Genoa. And it felt a little like a magical carpet ride but perhaps that was because we began at Drogheria Torrielli.

It's more than just a spice shop but, for me, the initial impression was that I had stepped into the pages of a book I read long ago … The Mistress of Spices.  A story about a priestess who knew the secret and magical powers of spices. Drogheria Torrielli seemed to promise ancient magic based on scent alone.

However the true story of this Genoese shop goes like this. In 1929 the grandfather of the current owners was working at the port of Genoa when an economic crisis hit and the work ran out. Way back then he decided to open a small supermarket, one of the first of its kind.

Moving forward, through time, into the 1970s and new people began to arrive in Genoa. Immigrants from Morocco and they were searching for spices from home. Over the years other immigrants followed and with them came the demand for spices from all over the world. 

Drogheria Torrielli began selling spices and, in the years since, this shop has become a place were a melting pot of cultures meet. More than that though, they are consciously attempting to maintain a balance between tradition while embracing the new.

Standing there, taking photographs, watching customers come and go, it occurred to me that Drogheria Torrielli represents a miniature version of what makes this city something special. The world wanders in through their doors.

Address: Via San Bernardo, 32r.

Permission.

... But when we give ourselves permission, we move past this. The world once again reveals itself to us. We become open and aware, patient and ready to receive it....We give ourselves permission because we are the only ones who can do so.

Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life, Dani Shapiro.

I love catching up with the wise words of Terri Windling via her blog, Myth & Moor.  She's a soul-soother somehow.

Meanwhile, I completely agree with the concept of time.   Something beautiful always emerges out of taking the time to play ... some of the best art, or the beginning of a series idea.

Needless to say, I'm missing Genova.  Here's an imperfect glimpse, taken between the portrait shoots I was doing for my book.