The Problems of Life Lived as a Flatlander ...

I like Genova more than I like Venice.  I prefer Nervi over Cinque Terre.  And perhaps I am one of the few who arrive in Italy and lose weight every time I am here.

It's the walking.  Twice a day, at very least, my camera and I head out.  Genova is located on the sides of some fairly spectacular hills.  The city reminds me of Dunedin or Wellington in terms of position between sea and hills.

The walking here involves hills.  The first 4 days are hellish for me.  A trip that winds down through the old part city involves a rather steep climb back up to Piazza De Ferrari.  'Steep' depending on how long I've been away from Genova but finding the easiest way home is the only time, in my life, the engineering part of my brain is used.

Is it simpler to walk back up Via San Lorenzo and then, should I follow the steady slow climb up Via Porta Soprana to the gate or should I turn left and arrive in Piazza De Ferrari, meandering some more on the 'flat' before climbing the stairs that take me up through the gate at Porta Soprana ... steeper than that first option but over more quickly. Unless I have a suitcase.  Or I'm carrying groceries.

And they are only two of many options that must be considered depending on where my feet have taken me that day.  Salita S. Matteo is the worst of the climbs back up and out of the carruggio for me.  However it is the climb I'm most proud to walk easily when it comes time to leave.

Meetings ...

One of the things I love about arriving in Genova, is catching up with the people I know.  Last Tuesday I had plans meet up with Outi, an ex-photography workshop client who lives here in the city. Like me, she fell for with this place but unlike me, she managed to move here.

We met where everyone meets, on the steps of Palazzo Ducale, and immediately headed inside for coffee and much-conversation. We had months to catch up on before deciding we would set off for the port area as Outi had international provisions to buy - spices from Thailand and Africa and,being a port city, there are two supermarkets jam-packed with foods from all over the  world.

Lunchtime rolled round and my idea was that lunch at Trattoria Ugo, where she hadn't yet eaten, might be a good idea.  Oh ... it was a very good idea.  They do things with anchovies that really need to be tasted rather than explained.

I worked through the afternoon, fighting a huge desire to nap, then met with Barbara for an aperitivo at the end of her working day.  She took me into one of the old cafes here, down in the ancient part of the city, and we caught up  on much over hot chocolate.

It was a talking/working kind of day.  A good day spent with good people.

The photograph below ... a glimpse of one of my favourite carruggi here.

Leaving Genova again ...

This morning, I set the alarm for 6.15am, giving me time to clean the apartment before leaving ... two loads of laundry to do.

I woke at 5.20am and lay thinking how unfair it was, knowing there was no way to sleep again.

I showered, put the first load of laundry through, and packed.  I began mopping floors and then voila, almost 8am, and I needed breakfast.

I sat at an outside table at Caffe Degli Specchi, with a cappuccino and brioche, realising that today was the day of leaving Genova ... again.

And so I walked, through the city's centro storico  ... walked until just after 8.30am. The air is a soft 17 degrees celsius, the sun is out and, as always, all around me was the quiet hum of this city I love.

'Ciao!' is everywhere.  It makes me smile.  People arrive in the cafes, pass each other in the street, arrive at work ... 'Ciao'.

I'll miss that.

Someone has written a long story on the footpaths here.  Beautiful Liguria has the story on Facebook. I didn't have my camera but I stopped this young guy and asked what it was about.  Apparently, it's something to do with WWII.  It's neatly written and seemed like another of those surprises that Genova presents to her people.  It happened in the night I think.

Anna, from the Beautiful Liguria website, let me know about the story today: 'It is a story of love between a Jewish lady and a Russian guy in world war II.'

Laundry is already out and hanging across via Ravecca.  My kitchen window is open and, here I am, this New Zealander who simply loves those times when she comes stay awhile in this private, elegant, chaotic, sometimes dirty, exquisite, secretive, ancient, post-modern city nestled between the hills and sea.