In the Carrugi, Genova

The author of Dear Miss Fletcher published one of my photographs, the one where I captured her at work in her beautiful city.

I saw her there in the distance and broke my promise not to photograph her.  But really, I would have deleted if she hadn't approved.  In this instance she felt it was the perfect photograph of her and here you have her.

I still remember her walking me through streets I had walked so often but without an intimate knowledge of the secrets they held.  And so often she would turn to me and tell me, 'I have something to show you ...'  

And so often, she did.

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.

On Allergies And Things

I woke at 6am, knowing I needed to finish my marketing assignment today.  It's bigger and more complex  than I expected but already I see the beauty and sense of what it is teaching me.

This course is all about authentically marketing your business.  It's not about bluff, bluster, or exaggeration.  It's about telling your story and telling it true.  But it's challenging.  It's demanding.  I like it.

If you were to watch the video of me writing this post, you might be tempted to send it viral.  I'm not sure but I think it might be amusing.  I woke at 6am, sneezing.  Nose running like a river in flood.  It's this thing that I do here in Genova sometimes. A small allergy I suspect but no, no anti-histamines thank you very much.

There is a mountain of paper kitchen towels next to me here.  I stop to sneeze 3 or 4  times every few minutes.   Then continue ... writing, finding the photograph.  Concentrating. Sneezing, blowing my nose.  Typing.  Laughing at myself as I became aware of the scene.

It looks like another blue sky day outside my window and Stefano's Righicam promises 12 celsius today. I will write and that's not to be sneezed at ...  because yesterday I was formally introduced to the Tramontana Scura.  The dark north wind.  It was cold and rained periodically.

This morning the sun has already turned the building down by Porta Soprana a pale gold.  My camera may come with me when I go out in search of that first espresso.  The light here, in this city of soft golds through into orange, is often divine but it's not simple to find.  You have to hunt for it. To allow for the fact that the narrow carrugio sometimes only see the midday sun. It is a city of mystery.  A maze of a city.  I found this while out wandering the old part of the city yesterday.

The question was ... was it me or the city?

I didn't know if my moods were flucuating on their own or whether it was the fault of Genova.

In the end I decided that it was mostly the fault of Genova ... aka La Superba.

The light pulled me outside again and again during my recent 3-week vist.  The morning light in the carruggio was so good on those last two days and there was photographic 'treasure' to be found everywhere.

But it's always about the people too.  I stopped at Caffe Degli Specchi for coffee, then wandered down into the narrow alleyways in the ancient part of the city. 

The light, the light! ... I might have been heard to mutter.

Then, just to add to a kind of surreal heightening of the senses, I remember hearing a huge number of children singing.  I followed the sound and discovered some kind of mixed-age choir performing on the steps of the San Lorenzo cathedral

I passed nuns chatting as they wandered along the street, and I stopped in at a fishmongers to photograph my beloved Anchovies ... seeing the art of them rather than well ... dead fish.

There's always more but here is one of those photographs. Taken on via Canetto il Lungo, I caught morning shoppers at one of the vegetable shops, and couldn't resist ...