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 ...

 

The Farinata, Genova

Just across the alley from the place where I write and work, while in Genova, is this tiny shop that sells the most delicious farinata, pies and Genovese snacks.

Some days, the scent of the food being cooked down in the wood-fired oven there, almost drives me out of my mind.

I was on my way back from another journey through the caruggi with my camera and voila, the sun created this image ...

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.

Caffè degli Specchi, Genova

This warm and welcoming cafe has become my favourite place to stop for a breakfast coffee, here in Genova.

Caffè degli Specchi, or the Cafe of Mirrors, is like so many of the cafes here in the city, a hub of activity.  The Genovese call in on their way someplace else, select a pastry, and order their cappuccino or espresso.  Some drink standing at the bar but I love to sit outside and watch the world pass me by.  The sandwiches make a rather nice lunch too.

Jimmy, pictured below, is responsible for the best cofee I have had in a long time.  He greets customers as they arrive and switches to English for those who, like me, are liguistically impaired.  Their aperitivo, later in the day, is also rather special.

Located at Salita Pollaiuoli 43, it's not far from Palazzo Ducale and is a must-visit kind of cafe.

There are days ... here in Italy

Last night, I woke just before 4am ... in time to feel an earthquake shudder through the city here.

We were fortunate, far enough from the centre that no damage was done here in Genova.  I thought it was a 3 or 4 magnitude quake.  Of course, I did get up and go find my wallet, my glasses, warm clothes and my camera gear and put it all by the bed in case the next one was stronger.

But I slept. I have experienced some big quakes in New Zealand.

Today the rain came.  And there was this point where I longed to be home, in a place known to me, and so I wandered into an ancient church and sat quietly, listening as two priests recited something in Italian.  Perhaps it was the rosary service ... but I am guessing.

And now here I am, back beside the open window, working at the kitchen table here in Genova.

A mozzarella snob confesses ...

It was bad enough when I became particular about my wine, and realised that I preferred Italian, French and Spanish wines over the wine of any other countries.

I am a woman of limited income ... I can't afford to be particular, not really, however it happens.

Next came the problem of good coffee.  Italian espresso and cappuccino ruined me.  I returned to Belgium and ended up buying a Nespresso machine, for the times between visits to Genova.

This time, I was introduced to mozzarella di bufala campana made by Casa Madaio. 

It is so good! 

Francesca and Norma sell it down in Le Gramole ... if in Genova, I cannot recommend trying it highly enough.

As per the photograph, I put some of the mozzarella on focaccia, with lettuce and tomato.  I took the photograph but really, I was desperate to eat it. 

None of these are paid advertisements ... it's just me writing of the things that I love and find.  And this particular small feast is so easy to create for yourself if passing through Genova.  You don't need a kitchen but the mozzarella ... it's truly delicious.

A short walk in Genova ...

Really, it was just meant to be a very short walk through the city, with a stop for coffee at my favourite cafe, Caffè Degli Specchi - on Salita Pollaivoli 43/R, then back to work on the book ...

That was THE PLAN.

3 hours later, and I returned home, having met the most interesting Genovese along the way.  I'll write more on them in other posts but it was delightful.

I talked with the man who imports beautiful furniture from India, goods that have been made ethically, both in terms of labour and wood, and sells them here at his shop - Safarà.  You can visit his website here.

I chatted with a designer creating the most exquisite clothes.

I bought my pesto and gnocchi from the women who make the best in the world ... or so says I, this ignorant straniero.

Then down to Bio Soziglia, in Macelli di Sozigli,a for a bio lettuce and 2 tomatoes ... I also popped in at Le Gramole Olioteca while I was down there and bought the most exquisite mozzarella.  I asked for instruction on how to look after it, mostly because I felt slightly intimidated by the quality of it ...  Francesca was kind and explained.  And I was right ask, I didn't know that the cheese can taste better if served at room temperature, nor how long I could keep it for after opening it.

And on back up the hill, for my focaccia from the forno on via Ravecca.  The focaccia is good enough to walk a distance for.

A ciao to Lorenzo at cibi e libri and home ... to eat some of the food I had hunted-gathered. 

A good day, and now ... the book.

Piedmont

On Saturday, I hopped on a train, heading for parts unknown to me ...

Stefano picked me up at Novi and then I arrived, on a small patch of paradise, in the Italian countryside.  Before any of my more cynical friends roll their eyes over my casual use of the word 'paradise', I will explain. 

In New Zealand, I was a creature who loved nature.  I didn't need wilderness, I just enjoyed the sky doing its thing, seeing healthy plants, walking my dogs in school fields, along beaches or river edges.  It was a recipe for dreaming.

And I have always loved the scent the nature, especially in Spring, when plants seem to celebrate their winter survival and fill the air with stunning scents.

In Piedmont, Italy, the air, without exaggeration, seemed to be constantly scented by some delicate flower.  Acacia I suspect but I don't know enough about the beautiful plant, I photographed, to be sure.  Does anyone know what the flowering 'tree' at the end of this post is?  Or what the gentle, jasmine-like scent might have been?

Update: Stefano let me know the name ... it is Robinia pseudoacacia or False Acacia.

I rested, in a way that I haven't rested in a long time.  I watched the clouds put on a small show and I photographed so many of the plants as I wandered the grounds.

But that aside, I met excellent people. On Saturday evening, friends of Stefano and Miriam gathered and the Genovese humour made me laugh.  It's a wicked humour but gently wicked.  And I tried a range of Genovese foods, out there in the Piedmont countryside ... Cima stood out as a new favourite.   I'll write of it another day but Miriam's mother made it and it was delicious.

And wine ... the wine I tasted, it came from the area and was unlike any I had tasted before but in a good way.

Yes, let me say quietly ... I had a most marvellous time.  Grazie mille, Stefano and Miriam.

Just a note really ...

Life goes on, here in Genova.  It's 20 celsius, as I write this, and I can hear the beautiful hum that this city makes, as people end their day of working and meet for aperitivo.

I've been working at the kitchen table that looks out over Via Ravecca, window open ... washing drying in the beautiful weather.  I can hear the Swallows playing their kamikaze-like games out in the skies.  They squeal as they chase each other up and down streets.

I found a wonderful art gallery today. We couldn't talk because we lacked language but I loved the work I saw there.  It's not the photograph, which is beautiful anyway, but what the artist does with the photograph afterwards.

The lion you see on the home page of this site inspired me to visit with the lions of San Lorenzo as I passed by them today but I just discovered my TIM connection is too slow here, in Genova ... I  can't load my image.  Perhaps I'll stop by at the internet cafe tomorrow anyway ... ciao from Genova.

Wandering ... and stuff.

Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.
Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, p. 18 (3rd edition)

This quote popped up on my Facebook wall and bemused me some ... because it seems true to me, in a way.

I come on these solitary pilgrimages to Genova.  I'm seeking something of home.  The sea, the hills, even the friendliness of Genovesi, (sometimes biting humour too) ... all of it feeds something inside of me.

But don't imagine I'm a fearless wanderer.  I'm really not.  I love it here, more than anyplace else but, it's not all simple or beautiful.

On Monday night, I struggled for most of the night, with what I initially imagined was an allergy problem.  My mouth was incredibly dry and, of course, the more I thought about it, the worse it got.  I had eaten a couple of things that I usually avoid and so allergy attack was there at the top of the list.

I thought I could tough it out but the night was long.  It's amazing how alone you can feel in a country not your own, when you're struggling with your body in the night.  So ... around 4am, I decided to call a taxi and quietly visit the emergency room.  Well, my Belgian phone didn't want to play and it may be, that I panicked ... which, of course, made the dry mouth dryer.

What I didn't know about Italy was how stunning their emergency services are. The Genovese should so proud of the people who work the phones.  I phoned in, they found someone who spoke English ... the calmest man in the world I think.  He asked me what was wrong and I told him that I thought I was having an allergy problem and my mouth was very dry and yes well ... I was a bit shaky by then.

He said, shall we send an ambulance.  The New Zealander in me was horrified.  I explained that I had failed with a taxi and I was only trying to get myself to the hospital, just in case it wasn't serious. 

He asked, shall I send a house doctor.  I quaked in my boots and said, 'will it be expensive'.  He said, 'no, it's free'.

I was stunned.

So, at 5am, a doctor arrived.  A practical kind man, from Syria originally and, using our English, his German and Italian, we solved my problem. 

I was alternately mortified and grateful.  It seems that there three options and none of them too serious.  In German, he told me it was small problem.

He was kind, he left, having reassured me and said, 'and now sleep'. 

And I did.

Kim asked about me and Genova ...

Kim asked if I was in Genova yet ...

I so am.

I have this huge and uncontrollable smile on my face.  It started as I journeyed from Milan towards the mountains and Genova ... and I can't stop it.

I've been trying not to frighten anyone, with my madly happy face, as I run errands upon arrival.  I'm working on containing it within me, as a quiet bubble of joy. 

I have a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  I have an internet connection.   I have wine ...  and I'm still smiling.  It's like that.

I am back in this city I love so well.

All kinds of threats have been made if I return without completing the book this time ... and so I must.

But Kim, yes, I am back.