Lesson learned on the road ...

When traveling you should always, but always, know the phone numbers you might need in a medical emergency.
Hanna, my lovely Finnish marketing partner arrived on Wednesday evening and experienced the misfortune of walking straight into my category 5 cold.  I was still imagining it might be an allergy at that point and so we went out for pizza. 

I couldn’t even finish the pizza and no red wine passed these lips of mine.  The misery of the cold was beginning to really press down on me.  We went back to the apartment and I crawled into bed only to wake with this terrible feeling of restricted airways ... very much like my old childhood nemisis, croup. My mother used to spend hours with me in our steaming hot bathroom, me ... the screaming toddler who couldn’t breathe.  The knowledge being that the steam would open the airways again ... if the child ever stopped crying.

I appeared in the lounge as a startled creature, realising that I didn’t really have a clue about what to do with this reappearance of a seemingly ancient ghost, and not really sure that it was anything to do with croup.  And voila, there we were in Italy where I had no idea about after hours doctors or emergency rooms.

I am incredibly fortunate in having a marketing partner who is rapidly becoming a much-treasured friend.  We worked through the problems of who we could ask for information after 11pm, and in the end, she went down to the bar near the apartment.  The guys in there were so incredibly kind, giving her the address of the nearest hospital emergency room, an after hours house doctor number, and they also offered to call us a taxi.  I was just so grateful for their kindness.

She returned with the news.  Knowledge is something special, and knowing I did have an emergency place to go if things got worse, we worked out that the situation wasn’t getting any worse, that it seemed more like my larynx having a major incident with flem and swelling, and it might be possible to go back to sleep if I remained propped up for the night.  It was a long night but it worked. 

Yesterday, some of my favourite Genovese friends emailed in with all the medical information I could possibly need and these last 24 hours have been about living quietly while catching up with a couple of good people. 

Stefano came to check on the patient yesterday and took us along the caruggi here, for the most delicious lunch.  The restuarant was cosy-warm and the food delightful.  Everyone was surprised that I was still saying no to red wine but I have been living on painkillers.  It’s not quite time for my ‘wine cure’ but soon, surely it can be soon. 

Later, Lorenzo caught up with us, and another piece of the photography workshop tour for 2012 has fitted itself into place.  You see, Hanna and I are here to finalise the details for a spring ‘come travel with me’ photography/travel workshop.  First the tour, then next week I begin work on the book.

7.30am and here I am, at the kitchen table, ready to work but still struggling with writing as you can read.  We have our first appointment at 9.30am and I’ve already decided that will involve a rather good coffee along at Bar Boomerang.

Photos and more lucidly written stories to follow in the days ahead ... she writes, hopefully.
Ciao from Genova.

Those details.  Hospitals vary on where you are located but:
Hospital Galliera
Taxi: 0105966

Emergency Number: 112

Guardia Medica (home doctor) 010 354 022 (8pm-8am)

Piano, piano ...

Slowly slowly ... that’s how I’m moving.

I seem have caught myself a cold en route.  Feeling sorry for myself is slowing me down, quite a lot.

Photos and stories will come, I just have to get through this phase of yuck.  Today, when I sneezed in the supermarket, this crazy guy gestured for me to step back from him.  I had my hand over my mouth, my germs were under control.  Truly. 

Later, when I went to visit Francesca, I warned her of my situation, she laughed and hugged me anyway.  She already has the cold, since Saturday. 

Sunshine and warmth today.
Ciao for now.

Jetlag ... and some stories from the road to Italy

Probably not jet lag ...
The flight to Milan was meant to be about 1 hour and 15 minutes.  We ended up arriving 20 minutes early ... a short-cut that boggles my mind.  How does a plane arrive 20 minutes early?

The alarm rang in Belgium 4.59am. 
Taxi at 5.54am.
Suitcase, the one that Brussels Airport broke last time I flew in there, revealed we hadn’t managed to fix it as I placed it in the hold of the Airport Bus ... 6.05am.
I may have said a bad word.

I arrived at the airport.  For a moment, I forgot I was in a country whose service providers often don’t care.  I confessed that my suitcase probably wouldn’t stay closed on the plane, due to being damaged last time I’d flown Brussels Airlines.  Fortunately, I said, I had managed to replace the suitcase strap they had lost but could he note its fragile status?
No.

Actually, the Brussels Airline check-in bloke pulled that face that Belgian service providers pull when they don’t really want to hear what you are saying because it’s YOUR problem and THEIR company and/or shop refuses to be held accountable.

Fair enough.  I’ve been there long enough to know the impossibility of anything close to satisfaction in this kind of thing.  I have lost the few battles I’ve attempted.  Raising ones voice doesn’t help.  These guys survived the Spanish Inquisition.  Raising ones voice is NOTHING.

I had an idea and suggested it to the Belgian check-in guy.  He warmed to me immediately. 
I suggested I get my suitcase plastic-wrapped so it would stay closed.
He led me there, abandoning his post even.
He didn’t mention the 5euro fee for plastic-wrapping.

However, there was the relief of having my suitcase secured. I returned to complete check-in.  He had handed my case on to the Belgian check-in woman.

I was early but you really need to be when you tavel from Antwerp to Brussels via the bus.  You have to allow for traffic jams when you travel morning or early evening.

I wandered off and bought a bottle of coke,, looking for that instant caffeine hit.  I thought the check-out chick insane.  She kept asking me for MORE money.  I knew we would work it out at some point.  She would laugh, I would laugh, she would apologise.
But no, that small bottle of coke really was 3.50euro.
I said ‘I’ll be sure to really really enjoy it then…’  And then we both laughed.
That is a robbery, isn’t it? 
It is $4.88us and $6.09 in New Zealand money.
I wish I hadn’t made those conversions now ...

On the plane and things began to improve. I met this lovely Mexican/American woman.  We chatted most of the way to Milan and so I noticed even less of the very short flight.

In Milan, the big heavy Belgian-frost-protecting jersey had to come off but ... oh no! I couldn’t put it into my plastic-wrapped suitcase because I still had a long way to travel and dared not interfere with its hold on my belongings - there were two train trips to be made.  I tied it onto my suitcase, hoping not to stand out as a peasant there in Milan.  Found a nasty sandwich, remembered too late that I knew how to purchase them in that shop because I had been a chicken last time too ... limiting myself to simple Italian when ordering food.  Sigh. 

I decided perhaps I could make this my rite-of-passage experience.  Each time I arrive in Italy I will have one of these disgusting sandwiches to appease the gods of travel and win myself a good visit.  I ate almost all of it while waiting for my train to Genova.  Breakfast had been quite some hours earlier.

On the train, I had the most incredible good fortune ... (so I’m thinking the sandwich sacrifice may be the ritual of choice on future trips).  I sat next to a lovely woman called Germana.  We began chatting after she very kindly alerted me to the fact that our number 7 train carriage had just become a number 6, and yes, we all had to move.

My seat was next to her in number 6 carriage and so we began to chat.  It turned out that this lovely woman had, like me, had spent some time living in Istanbul.  Well, that was that.  We fell into conversation, talking of the lovely places she had lived, talking of family, talking of life.  It was so excellent!  That train trip passed so easily that I didn’t even notice the million tunnels that we have to travel through to reach Genova.

We said goodbye at the station, I found a taxi and voila, here I am, back in this city I love so very deeply.

But that’s not all.  I walked into the apartment and Paola and Simon had arranged the loveliest birthday surprise.  3 bottles of truly delicious wine!  Really!

So there I was, back in Genova, having met good people along the way, my suitcase had managed to contain itself and not spill open and now ... there was red wine waiting for me!
A huge thank you to Paola and Simon!

Today it’s 9 celsius, it’s pouring down after 3 very dry months here in the city, and here I am, wrapped up warmly and smiling that big smile that I try to control whenever I reach this place.

I hope your worlds are behaving today and I wish you joy.
Ciao for now.

Cees Nooteboom, and a Genoa Image

Photography is a more intense way of “looking”. No photographer simply travels. He cannot allow himself the luxury of just looking around. He does not see landscapes; he sees photographs, images of reality as it might appear in a photograph.
Cees Nooteboom in 1982 in the Holland Herald, KLM’s in-flight magazine.

On the way 'home', when in Genoa

The question is not what you look at, but what you see.
Henry David Thoreau

Growing up in small-town New Zealand, the same town until I was 20, I had landmarks I knew when wandering home ...

I lived next to an intermediate school, the once famous Mosgiel Woollen Mill was nearby. Saddle Hill and the Maungatua’s gave me a sense of direction.  I knew my world there and yes, I have landmarks here in my Antwerp life too, but the angel creature in the photograph below is part of the remains of the cloister of Sant’Andrea, a Romanesque ruin that used to be part of an ancient church with the same name.  Sadly, or perhaps best for those people in that particular time ... it was demolished in the 1800’s, when Via Dante was realised.

The cloister ruin has become a very real part of ‘my way home’ when in Genova, Italy and I couldn’t resist stepping ‘inside’ with my camera last time I was there.  It was empty of tourists and locals.  I spent some time just photographing the details of that beautiful place.

Karla Verdugo, Artist

Jessie Knopp also created a business card for Karla, using an entirely different font that, I felt, complimented the original artwork just so perfectly.

And Jessie doesn’t just make one version in these early stages.  She created two versions for Amedeo and three for Karla.  She is happy to work with you via the web to create what you need.  So let me know and I’ll put you in touch with her.

Jess Knopp, talented artist and daughter

My daughter has this rather stunning ability to put together a business card that captures something of who you are, or what you do ... in a way that stuns and delights me.

I asked her about creating a business card for two of the artists I met in Genova and voila, she created this as one of two options for the lovely Amedeo.

You should think about whether you need her to work her magic for your image.

Franco Fondacaro at Work, Genova

It seems entirely appropriate to post this photograph of Franco waving to me…

He was the only artist set up when I wandered by early this morning. Today is a religious holiday in Genova.  It’s the day of their patron saint, Giovanni. 

We exchanged greetings then he took me by the arm and we strolled over to the cafe for coffee together.  And just like Roberto in Lerici, we didn’t have much language in common but it was lovely to spend time with him.

I wandered on down via San Lorenzo afterwards, veering right in search of focaccia, then on into the caruggi.  About halfway into that walk, I realised I was deeply exhausted and wondered why I was taking on a stroll that involved a rather steep incline on the return ... considering that I was operating on 4 hours of sleep.

I made it back to the apartment but needed to lie down for 10 minutes.  I may have used up almost all of me and have this wicked plan to sleep tomorrow away.  We’ll see, I recover relatively quickly usually.

So anyway, in the last few hours of travel, there has been the realisation that I left my favourite foundation and perfume back in Genova. My idea was to wait until the sweat had dried before applying it.  In all honesty though, I was cleaning right up until I left and the sweat never did dry.  Then there was the man sitting in my train seat on the train to Milan, but he accepted the bad news graciously and turned to be okay.  He managed to prevent my suitcase from causing serious damage when it rolled out into the aisle.  Italian trains often have those little rooms of 6 seats on each carriage ... I suffer.

Then the airport was reached in comfort and style (as opposed to being crammed on the hot and crowded airport bus), via the Malpensa train from Milan Central.

However then came the overweight suitcase ... 36 euros.  I’m blaming the gifts.  And there was the small matter of an abandoned suitcase up near check-in that had security waiting for the police, alarming the check-in woman who had charged me for my excess baggage.  I was happy to leave the area ...

Anyway, waiting for the plane, hoping I can sleep on it. I’ll leave you with Franco, out on Via San Lorenzo, in amongst all the artwork.

Amedeo Baldovino’s Art

At dinner last night, Amedeo said I should tell him which work I liked best of his and he’ll paint me one like it.  I do adore that man but he took it a step further.  Laughing, he told me that he will be painting a studio with Di Mackey Photography into the city scene because that’s what he does so well .... he mixes reality with fantasy and imagination.

I loved the idea of that ...
Now to tell the Belgian bloke all the reasons why Genova would be such a good place to live.

Meanwhile, to Amedeo ... a long life to the visionaries and the dreamers amongst us!

Ghost Tour caccia al Tesoro Regolamento e Legenda.

I chatted with the young guy building the bonfire in Piazza Matteotti earlier this evening, asking him what was going on ... having learned that bonfires are entirely possible any place in Liguria at the moment.

He explained that there was a concert tonight, there in the piazza, a treasure hunt too (one I knew that I wouldn’t be going on), and it would all culminate in the bonfire being lit.  This bonfire was one of those special ones where you get to write your wish on a piece of paper and place it onto the unlit bonfire and voila ... your wish would come true.  (I knew I wouldn’t do that too…) 

The celebration, I hope I am right when I write that it was a celebration honouring Genova’s saint - San Giovanni.

So, tonight I cooked my last Genovese pasta and pesto dinner, I opened a bottle of red wine, started packing my suitcase then suddenly decided not to be silly and to go out and, at very least, visit the concert a while.

It was too much.  I saw all the families leaving on the treasure hunt, so I raced back to the apartment for my camera, having decided to tag along behind all the Genovese following the maps.  Suddenly, there I was, on a treasure hunt that took us all through the ancient centre of the city for quite some hours.

Genova has been kind to me.  I have had the very good fortune to meet some of her best people.

You see, once out there, I thought I should perhaps see if I could join a group. I tried a ‘scusi’ and asked if the people walking in front of me spoke English.  And they did and, even better, they very kindly let me tag along with their group.

We talked as walked, and really, I couldn’t have been happier as I photographed each performance, a performance that not only entertained but gave the treasure-seekers their clue for the next place on the route.  The performances were superb, just by the way.

It would have been so good had I packed my flash but I wasn’t going on that treasure hunt through the caruggi at night ...

We weren’t the first people to return to the piazza and so the honour of lighting the bonfire was given to someone else but it was a most excellent night.

Mille grazie to Federico and everyone else.  I realise, now that I’m home, I don’t really know how to spell everyones names so ... let me thank you as a group, for your generosity in allowing me to join you on the treasure hunt, and for your English, and your stories, and the foccacia. 

Scene from the Ghost Tour, Genova

I love my Canon EOS 5D Mk II ...

You see, I didn’t have my flash tonight and this ghost tour/treasure hunt took place in the narrow caruggi and ancient piazzas located in Genova’s historic centre.  Not only that, it took place between 21.15 and 23.45 ...

So, I spun my ISO up to 6200 and voila, we have what we have. 

Oh, and in the post below, I wrote of the fact that I knew I wouldn’t be adding a wish to the bonfire but do you know, like so many other things I wasn’t going to do tonight, I did it.

It’s after 1am here, I must find a way to sleep after the excitement of the treasure hunt, the bonfire, the good people and just being out in this city I love so well. 

Hmmm, buonanotte from Genova.