Remembering Good Food and Good Friends

Last week ... this was the dinner starter at Il Genovese

It's a little of this, a little of that, to be shared between five.  Outi, my Finnish friend living in Liguria.  Alessandra and Davide, lovely Italian friends from Genova.  And Gabrielle, my Australian client, the one who has become a lovely friend too.

The food was exquisite ... of course, and the company.

Today finds me at my desk and working, back here in Belgium, freezing.  I'm wearing Fiona's hand-knitted woolen rainbow socks and warm clothes.  It's grey, cold and raining, and I remembered this photograph.

Mmmhmmm, I just had peanut butter on toast and a coffee for lunch.

I miss Genovese food. 

Microguagua - street power Reggae!

These guys. 

I was in awe of the high-energy, joy-filled street performance of the Reggae band called Microguagua.

I bought one of their cds because I wanted their music back in Belgium. 

They're brilliant.  Seeing them perform live made me smile.  Perhaps I caught a sense of them here but honestly, their music makes you smile.

I found them out in Via San Lorenzo, in Genova.  I had to stop for some photographs.

Two Beautiful Souls ...

What matters the most is that you’re doing something to make the world a better place. And you have to believe in this. It’s important… you think with your eyes, and that’s all the world asks you to do.

– Camille Lepage, July 26th, 2013.

Christena Dowsett is a remarkable woman, I follow her blog and make that statement based on what I've read over there.

Christena writes things like this, of time spent with her friend, Camille Lepage:

Our last night together, we closed down the bar by talking with the Maasai guards who were there. It was quite a sight to behold. She and I and six Massai dressed in full traditional clothing. We must have talked for an equal number of hours. I remember how intently she asked them questions, about their culture, their families, if leaving their loved ones behind for work was hard. She asked nothing that would relate back to her. She was intent on knowing them inside their own context.

Meanwhile I was asking questions like, “How do you guys feel about tourists and white people in general?”

She looked outward for her questions. I looked inward.

I sat and listened most of the night. I watched her. And learned from her how to learn from people.

Earlier that day she told me, “You need to not see them as different. See them the way they see themselves. Show them as if they were white. You need to look at them as if they were your brothers. Stop thinking about you, you have to think about them.”

And this post, titled The Bag-less Lady, made me smile. 

These women, the photographs, Camille's legacy kept alive by her friend ... they're so important.

Writing from Milan Airport ...

I'm that woman sitting in the midst of those traveling to Berlin, here at the airport in Milan.  There's limited seating, I'm almost sure I shouldn't confess I'm on the flight after theirs. 

I arrived early.  It's my way of dealing with those rumours I've heard of an unreliable Italian train system.  I've never found it to be unreliable over the years but I do arrive 3-4 hours early most times.  When the trip to the airport involves a two-hour train trip and 45 minutes on bus, it's just simpler to arrive early.

Genova was intense. Perhaps I should write, 'as always', but these hard metal seats are barely keeping me awake as I finally allow myself to sink into being here, with nothing more required of me except boarding the plane.

There are so many photographs from my 8 days away, so many stories but I'll keep it simple and leave you with a 'selfie' I took in a beautiful Genovese villa, one that has a fountain from the 15th century and the room you see in the mirror.