Well yes ... it was all about the fountain today.

So, it was all about the fountain in Piazza De Ferrari, as you will see in the posts and photographs that follow this one however ... I think it's a lovely way to visit the piazza here in Genova - via the fountain.  It is so central to all that is beautiful there.

The exquisitely-coloured building you can see in the background is the Palazzo Ducale.  It’s one of my favourite buildings, for all sorts of reasons, and the colour its painted facade turns when the light is just right, is sublime.

Teatro Carlo Felice, Genoa

In the background, behind the fountain, you can see a part of Teatro Carlo Felice ... reputed to be the most technological theatre in Italy.  It has a stage set that allows twelve complete sets at the same time.

Dedicated to King Carlo Felice of Savona in 1828, and designed by Carlo Barabino - it was neoclassical in style, with two sections joined at right angles however the original theatre was destroyed during WWII.

Apparently, during the reconstruction of the theatre, all of the architects working on it died.  Due to this incredible misfortune, the theatre didn’t reopen until 1991, when its restoration was completed by Aldi Rossi.

Reading from edizioni KINA Italia/L.E.G.O - today the theatre has an interior geometrical structure made of iron, stone, wood and marble. 

Having photographed it and read about it, it seems important that one day I actually wander inside and attend an event.  I’ll let you know.

The light today, in Genoa

It’s been a footsore and wearisome day in some ways but in other ways, it was completely sublime.

The light was exciting as I wandered the city, wending my way down to Via San Luca, repeatedly, trying to resolve the mystery of where precisely the shop was, so I could get my usb modem reloaded.

And then I was punished for not understanding everything first time and penance took the form of walking down ... and yes, back up, from the shop I was buying the hours from.  In a twist of ouch that those who know me will enjoy, my lack of any other fluent language in telephone/internet instructions, meant that after being given painstaking instructions in Italian ... my laptop threw that information back at me in Nederlands, making everything as clear as mud.

I could have cried ... but crying never solved anything.  So I went back down to the shop however it was lunchtime and all was locked until 3pm.

I wandered and returned however the assistant there didn’t speak English and, even worse, I couldn’t explain in Italian.

I thought, ‘Okay, this is my punishment for not learning the language’.  The English-speaking guy was gone and anyway, what sort of internet addict was I?

Well ... obviously quite a bad one, as an hour later I resolved not to waste my 20 euro reloading fee, and wandered back down.  I found him!  But I had to bring my laptop back.

My feet were all but broken.  I’ve really struggled with recovering from last week’s cold.  It’s been a complete pain but I did it - that usb modem has been reloaded.  I'm a little sweaty and footsore,  and slightly mortified by the whole process but it's done.

Other rewards from my day?
Well there are some photographs I think I might be rather pleased with.
And yes, I have internet here at the apartment as of tonight.
There is also fresh pasta - the famous trofie, to be accompanied by fresh pesto from the ladies down in Il Lungho. 

Red wine?
Why yes, there is a little of that too.

Anyway, this first photograph from today is a slice of Giuseppe Corsa di Vergagni’s fountain (1936) located in Piazza de Ferrari.  The light and the wind blowing the water around, simply delighted me.

C’è chi c’ha, Chiavari

Last night I was introduced to the lovely Paola, from C’è chi c’ha, and her boutique selling exclusive Italian high-fashion and Pret-a-Porter clothing.

Fashion rarely makes me swoon, in fact, I have never used that particular word but watching Miriam model one exquisite coat, then another, I may have swooned a little.  I wish I had photographed the coats now. They were exquisite, or perhaps elegant, clearly beyond words.  Maybe my camera and I can slip back to Chiavari via the short train trip and capture something of it all.  Even the tiny shop is exquisite, tucked into an ancient corner of the old city. 

If you ever find yourself in the vicinity of C’è chi c’ha, Paola has stores in both Chiavari and Chianni, then you really must wander in.  You won’t regret it.  You can read more about the Chianni shop here.

There are stories of a delightful restaurant meal in Chiavari to follow but my ‘internet provider’ seems not to be working today and I am at an internet cafe without photoshop for downsizing ...

Some stories from Genoa ...

I haven’t been writing much.  I am still tired from last week’s cold and, somehow, so very slow at digging into my usual creative space here in Genova.

But anyway, delightful things are happening despite this slowness in me and, today I wandered out to Boccadasse.  It soothed my kiwi soul, as always.

Meanwhile, yesterday, while trying to convince myself that getting out of bed was a good idea, Shannon smsed inviting me to join her for breakfast in the city.  I thought it a lovely idea and managed to shower and dress in time.  I took her to my favourite coffee and aperitivo bar here in the city - Bar Boomerang

We talked, and then we talked somemore as we walked.  I pointed out my favourite pizzeria and the fabulous forno as we wandered and she introduced me to some new twisting turning alleyways and streets nearby.  It was a lovely morning.  Grazie, Shannon.

Shannon is an American who moved to Genova via New Zealand.  We found each other via the blogs, of course.

I returned to the kitchen table, here in the apartment, and worked for a while before wandering off to have coffee with Lorenzo, and to catch up on his news.

This morning there was another delightful sms.  This time it was Stefano and he succeeded, yet again, in introducing me to new and delicious Genovese food.  It was good to catch up with him and he lifted my mood from flat and tired to curious and ready to wander.  He went back to work and I picked up my camera and headed for Bus 42 - destination Boccadasse.

I don’t know how I stayed away from my favourite place so long, as I’m at least 5 days into this visit.  It was so good to visit that part of the coastline again.  I would love to live there, in one of those houses located on the side of the hill.  There, even if you can’t see the sea, you can smell it.
Bliss.

Later, I was delighted to discover silverbeet at the supermarket (Jessie tells me it is also known as Swiss Chard), and in Italiano, it’s called bietola.  I picked up a bunch, a tied bunch and put it in a plastic bag to take home.  Mmmm, and added some carrots to my basket, then thought about some kind of omlettely thing (ignoring the fact that eggs really dislike me).  I threw in all kinds of good food ... inspired by the silverbeet to take the path of adult cooking instead of my Traveling Subsistance- Style.

Then! at the counter, I became one of those dreadful people who hold up queues while sprinting off to weigh some forgotten item.  I was so sure my checkout lady was wrong and in the spirit of bad-karma-for-doubters, I reached the scales - out of the supermaket, back into the supermarket - and couldn’t remember the name of the silverbeet.  The clock was ticking.  And yes, there were photographs identifying the vegetables on the scales but I knew she was wrong ... that it wouldn’t be there.

Blind panic eased and voila, I found it.

I sped back and had my return to the head of the queue obstructed by this fierce little fur-clad elderly woman who wasn’t letting any pushy foreigner past her.
Oh god, I’m not made for confrontations.  I’m a photographer, I like to quietly slip through life most of the time, unless telling stories, and especially at moments like this.

A lovely elderly gentleman heard my ‘permisso’ and smiled, then eased the little woman out of my way. 

It’s so universal ... all of that waiting at the checkout but usually I’m not the big delay.

So I have all this good food ... well some.  I forgot to buy a personal chef at the supermarket.  And so I made soup.  The simplest kind, as I don’t have ingredients here but Mum and Dad always had silverbeet growing in the garden and I haven’t had it/seen it since leaving New Zealand.  It was a soup of silverbeet, white onion, carrot, water and salt ... and it was delicious.

Ciao from beautiful Genova.

A Sunday in Genoa

This time, being in Genova seems to be all about sleeping ... sleeping like I haven’t slept in years.

Perhaps I needed it but I am bemused to find myself sleeping more than my usual 5-6 hours.  I have slept 10 hours+ on each of these first two days in this city that I love.

Still, the buildings I enjoy attempting to photograph have been here for a long time and they’re not going to notice me being tardy about getting up and out of bed early. 

I photographed Cattedrale di San Lorenzo this morning.  It was built to hold Saint John the Baptist’s ashes, or so they tell me, and these were brought to Genova after the crusade in 1098.  The cathedral was begun in 1155 and its facade is a gothic masterpiece, no less. 

I love it.  I think you can see why ...

Back in Genoa

Yesterday I woke at 4.45am for a 5.30 taxi, and had the luck to have a lovely driver, a man who had been in the merchant navy when he was younger.  He seemed happy to chat all the way there and carried my suitcase into and out of the taxi. 

I caught the 6am bus to the airport for the 8.50am one hour and 40 minute flight, the one that I slept through until we passed over the alps ... at which point I almost climbed out the window, so impressed was I by the beauty of those snow-covered mountains that cut a path from France, through Italy into Austria, as well as passing through Switzerland and the south of Germany.

There was the bus from Milano Malpensa airport, the train from central station to Genova and the walk along Via XX Settembre to Paola’s Place, this place that I love so well.

I slept 10 hours last night.  I never ever sleep 10 hours.

And today was about wandering ... to the forno for a slice of the very best focaccia in Genova (probably the world, actually), stopping off for a delicious espresso.  It was about reclaiming this cityscape before heading out on the 2.40euro train to Camogli.

Stating the obvious, I just have to write that it’s so very good to be back in this very beautiful city.

I saw a beautiful street, the Via Aurelia, and now I am in a beautiful town, a really beautiful town, Genoa.  I walk on marble, everything is made of marble: stairs, balconies, palaces.
Gustave Flaubert, 1845, extract from a letter to a friend.

I could spend an entire day here in Via XX Settembre, in Genova, just photographing the light as it changes under this beautiful covered sidewalk.

Special People, Genoa

For me, Genova is not just a place full of beautiful buildings, situated on a coast that reminds me of home.  It is also home to people I very much enjoy spending time with.

Our lovely friend, Stefano, was out town when we arrived but Gert and I spent those days wandering with our cameras, usually 10kms+ days, and we caught up with others.

We were lucky enough to have Kathleen and Peter spend seperate nights with us.  Lucky because to have the 4 of us in one country at the same time was remarkable.  It reminded us that we know more than a few good people who make our lives quite the richer for knowing them.

We were also able to spend time with Lorenzo, another lovely friend who owns this delicious cafe, and who was generous with his time and knowledge over afternoon espresso.

And then Stefano returned.

It was brilliant to see him again, and to meet his wife too.

That first day back together, Stefano and his wife took Gert and I out for a beautiful lunch in a restuarant in the ancient part of the city. We were joined by their friend, Luca, the man who showed us a hotel where future clients ... those who come wandering with me, will stay. 

In a lovely coincidence, just the day before, I had wanted to photograph the door to the hotel, not realising it was a hotel ... it was all about the beauty of the door for me.  I had also returned, more than once, to the piazza on the other side of the hotel, attempting to capture the solitude and peace I found there.  It seemed like a good omen.

And Stefano came wandering with us after lunch, solving some of my logistical problems with the photography tours to Genova. 

Time raced by and, too suddenly, it seemed, our time in Genova was almost done.  Stefano and his wife invited us to one last dinner with friends before we flew out.  The company was delicious.  I didn’t eat them but I enjoyed the conversations and the food.  We said goodnight at 11.30pm, quite without me realising it was so late. 

It has taken me far too long to write of the people who make that city I love even more special.

Grazie!  I look forward to hosting you in Antwerp one day soon.

Missing Genoa ...

The oddest thing is the fact that I begin missing Genova as I pass through that halfway-through-my-stay mark.

I notice suitcases rolling along the alleyway below Paola’s apartment and I know it’s silly to think of them because I still have the other half of my time there left to experience ... but I begin noticing them anyway.

I think I’ve lived one of those lives where I am always searching for someplace else ... someplace perfect.  And sometimes I’ve come so close to finding it but life has seen me pack up and move on again.

‘So close’ is knowing where to put my desk and having a place to restore my soul.  The crazy falling-down cottage in Broad Bay was something like that ... out on Portobello Road, and the wooden cottage with the exquisite verandah on Matariki Street too.  I loved life in Te Anau because of the lakes and mountains and a friendship with a potter there. I loved Blenheim for Anakiwa and Cromwell for Arrrowtown and Queenstown.

Maybe the next half of my life has to be about finding my place.
Let’s see it.

Meanwhile, I took this photograph while wandering on Via Garibaldi I think, or perhaps Via Cairoli.  I loved the painting and loved the reflections.  I have hundreds, if not 1000s, of photographs from my time spent wandering Genovese streets. I think there's a book ...

A Holy Place, Genoa

A lovely elderly gentleman saw me taking a photograph and took me to another shop window, showing me its contents, and then on round the corner, telling me that I must see inside this church pictured below.

I think we did all of this in Italiano which I really don’t speak but sometimes, or oftentimes, you just ‘get’ what people are trying to tell you because your passion and curiousity meets them halfway.

Grazie to the Genovese man whose name I don’t know, for knowing that I might love this beautiful church, up a side street and almost round a corner ... a place I might never have found on my own.