Reminiscing the Future ... Italy

I love the way we can bring the past alive in our present ... recalling the people we loved and lived with, the way that they made us feel.  I find everyone is still there, as solid memories, if I manage to call them up.

7am here in Italy, a cup of coffee from my small traveling espresso coffee-pot and a packet of shortbread-like biscuits nearby ...voila, memories of Nana and pre-breakfast coffees back home at her place, in Invercargill, New Zealand, chatting as she sped through her daily Southland Times, reading the news.

Imagine if her and I could have reminisced about the future ... ‘Hey Nana, in 2010, I’m going to be sitting at Paola’s kitchen table, in a small and ancient city in Italy, window open so I can hear the sounds of Genova waking up, drinking coffee, just like you and I are now.’

Nana, who never left New Zealand in all of her life but I wonder if she dreamed of it.  We never talked of those things.

Or a conversation with Mum ... ‘So I moved to Istanbul in 2003.  You would have loved it.  The people are so friendly, the summers are warmer than here in Mosgiel, the life ... you would have loved the life of that ancient city. 

Then Belgium in 2005’.  She would have flown over to make me a balcony garden in Antwerp, and spent evenings out there, ignoring the mosquitoes, drinking a white wine and watching the sun slip below the horizon. 

And Genova, I’m almost sure she would never have ever left Genova after arriving.  We would have laughed about me being my mother’s daughter perhaps, with a need for the sea and serious hills, and maybe we could have planned to open some kind of B&B here, satisfying our oddly hospitable souls and the pleasure we find in knowing people.

And my lovely little sister ... the one who has always been older and wiser than me, even if she was born after me.  We used to talk across the single-bed space back in those days when we shared a bedroom and if we had reminisced about my future life, I do believe we might have imagined we were inventing fairy stories ... where Istanbul, Antwerp and Genova were flights of fanciful imaginations ...

She should come here now.

Hhere I am, in the now, in Italy... loving the life I find in Genova.

Did you know, that swallows fly up and down Via Lorenzo in the evenings, before dark, screeching like hysterically happy young girls playing chase at an out-of-control birthday party.  They amuse me, those swallows - even as I realise that I can't begin to caputre their antics with my camera.

And did you know that if you take nuts to the park in Nervi, and you throw a few then make yourself comfortable on the grass, the squirrel will be become bolder and bolder ... until you run out of nuts.  Then you and he are over as photographer and model.

And did you know that this woman, a few thousand miles from home, from her past lives, and the people she loved first, finds the Ligurian coast an exquisitely beautiful place to remember and miss them?

Church bells ring in through the open kitchen window ... 8am.
Time to begin the new day but Sandra, come over one day soon.

Ciao from Genova, both feet in the present, as I think what to do with this day.

The Caruggi, Genoa

The photograph below was taken in one of the many caruggi, or narrow alleyways, that criss-cross the ancient heart of Genova city.

I love them.  You can be constantly lost, although we are getting there ... retracing our steps and exploring a new favourite area.

Life is lived up close and personal, so very unlike my New Zealand life in terms of living space and yet, in another way it reminds me of how known we were back in New Zealand.  I experience this Genovese life as a life lived in the midst of a huge extended family.  Today we left our keys in the apartment door.  The doorbell rang loudly just before dinner and we discovered a lovely elderly couple, with their granddaughter in tow, just letting us know what we had done.

But it’s more than that.  It is about hearing the cafe door roll up most mornings, or the neighbour above getting ready for work.  Smelling the heavenly scent from food shops surrounding us and the noise of the evening crowd ... being noisy until hours way beyond anything Belgium would allow.  I am loving it.

The music has taken over here at the internet cafe.  I must go, I find myself typing in time to some lively gypsy-sounding waltz.  I will make less sense than usual if I persist.
Ciao for now, from Genova.

A Bend in the River, Liguria

When I wander, there is oftentimes that unconscious thing going on ... where I ‘recognise’ something of other places I have loved or lived in.

This bend in the river, near Nervi, reminded me of visiting my Grandma and Grandad in their little cottage in Northeast Valley, back in Dunedin.  But it wasn’t about the house pictured, it was about the river and the wall. 

On the best visits, Grandad would dig out the old heavy wooden ladder and drop it down to the creek next to the cottage.  We 4 kids would climb down and hunt for fresh-water lobsters, occasionally surprising everyone by finding one.

My Grandad wandered the world before me.  Grandad George was the man who fought at Gallipoli in Turkey, on the Somme in France and out on Flanders Fields, with the Otago Mounted Rifles.  I have wandered in his footsteps when life, unexpectedly, took me to those places too. 

You know ... I wish everyone was still alive so we could have all these conversations I want to have with them.  Mum would have loved this life of mine and I’m sure she would have visited Italy ... would have decided to stay.  She could have had her place next to the sea here in Liguria.

A curious rock formation ...

There are so many things, here in Italy, that poke my curiousity something fierce ... this rock formation was surely one of them.

Is it volcanic?  And I liked the way the green and yellow plant kind of copies the chaos of the black and white rock spewing out of the hillside.

Here, I find I need both a geologist and a horticulturalist to walk with me.  There are plants I need to know the names of, and a pharmacist too, as I have had this explosive allergy/hayfever thing going on these last 24 hours.

Mr Squirrel and I

How could anyone resist this little bundle of fur and sweetness?

He ate one of the nuts the lovely couple in the park had shared with me and then gazed down from the branch, just out of reach ... his wee eyes filled with gratitude and love?  Or that's how I read it.

You know, the bus to Nervi and the place of the squirrels departs from the steps close by.  We can use our book of 1.10euro bus tickets to ride approximately half an hour before walking the most exquisite (no, I’m not exaggerating) coastal walkway the Pato rk of the Squirrels.  I do believe we shall be returning, with a bag of nuts and some time to stay awhile.

Clouds and Sunshine ... on a hill above the Ligurian Sea

I had this feeling that the clouds, the sea, and the coastline might be interesting if we were to wander out to the look-out on the hill at Boccadasse this morning.  And they were.

I love sitting here. It took us longer than planned to reach it, as Gert is all but crippled by back pain and so, we’re moving more slowly than usual. 

Meanwhile he has been threatening to write a book full of things that I say.  Sometimes he almost falls over laughing.  I have to admit, I’m more than happy he doesn’t blog me.

He is also talking of enforcing a 20 euro limit, per journey, on me and the beggars who spot the ‘I give money I don't have to beggars’ halo that shines over my head.

Last night it was the artist ... he was kind of dirty but it wasn’t just the grime and etc.  I was lost when he looked directly at me and I noticed his little broken glasses were hanging crookedly from his nose. 

Mmmm, and the day before, the African guys.  My natural curiousity gets me into trouble while wandering.  And Gert’s more than certain they have a far higher income than me at the moment.  Let me know if you have need of a little brown plastic turtle or elephant.  I have 4 ...

But perhaps I should get these guys to give workshops and help me work on my line out there in the begging world. 

7am and working ...

This morning, I was awake and working at 7am, here in Genoa.

Although I should admit that I enjoy working and to spend time working at this pretty little round table in Paola’s kitchen, with the window onto the street open so I hear life passing by, somehow makes the hours pass by in a sweeter way. 

Then again, I could be honest and tell you that it’s almost 8.30am and I feel like I have earned my onion focaccia breakfast and that the light is calling to me ...

Bulk of work done, I might just wander off with the camera.  There are so many new places to explore this time.

I took the following photograph yesterday, as we wandered between rain showers and thunder crashes.  It was 23 celsius at the time but damp, very damp.

A San Lorenzo Cathedral Lion, Genoa

I love the lions outside San Lorenzo’s cathedral here in the city of Genova ...

The lions rest on either side of the wide entrance stairway, fierce and somehow welcoming.  So much so, that you often see children sitting on their broad backs. 

I went out for focaccia this morning and was distracted by the exquisite light after rain.  Gert smsed an hour later, wondering where his breakfast might be, and I managed to leave the lions and San Lorenzo in peace.

Bar Boomerang, Genoa

One of my favourite places, here in the city of Genova, is Bar Boomerang. 

Initially it was the name that I noticed.  Then the fantastic, never-tasted-better cappuccino drew me back again and again.  On this, my second visit to the city, I discovered that their aperitivo is the nicest aperitivo I’ve had so far.

The staff are friendly, clients are important to them and their passion for the work comes through in all that they do.  If you are in Genova, I recommend you find your way to this cafe and decide for yourself.

In a small interview with Simona, the patient barista (patient in working with my New Zealand English), I asked a few questions about the cafe. 

She explained that the name had orginated from a visit that Marta, the owner, had made to Australia.  Marta and her husband enjoyed the trip so much that they named their Genovese cafe Bar Boomerang.  I need to explain that what we would call a cafe in New Zealand is a bar here in Italy, although alcohol is served so perhaps it becomes something of a hybrid.

Open five years, the bar is located on via Porta Soprana, 41-43,  not far from the ancient Genovese gate known as Porta Soprana. The gate, built in 1155, was originally intended as a defense rampart, with access for commercial traffic arriving via the interior, and acted as a barrier to would-be conquerors like Barbarossa and others.  Today it stands permanently open, welcoming foreign creatures like me inside this ancient part of the city.

As a tourist, a sometimes shy tourist without l’taliano, I was a little intimidated about just how to order my coffee. Of course, it’s quite simple. You wander into the cafe, order your coffee, select something to eat if needed and take it yourself.  In most bars, you can either pay a little extra and take a seat or stand at the bar and drink without sitting.

You pay as you leave.

At Bar Boomerang, their work is a passion and I’m sure that is what makes everything taste so good.  Simona took me through the four steps required to make good coffee.  Obviously you begin with good coffee, then you make sure your machines are clean.  The third step involves making a good press and the fourth, well that surprised me, it’s about noting the humidity and any changes in the humidity.  If it changes, the settings on the coffee machine need to change too.

The coffee is so very good.  It’s one of the things I missed for weeks after leaving last time and I expect it will be the same this time.

Most people know Italians take their coffee very seriously.  I asked Simona about the ‘rules’ and she explained that a typical Italian customer might have cappuccino or latte in the morning. Milk coffee is only for mornings and laughing she said, not before or after lunch or dinner.  This is more of a tourist thing or maybe in winter, on a really cold day.  Expresso is for all the time, after lunch or dinner particularly, as its role is to aid in digestion.  You could typically follow the expresso with a liquer of some kind like limoncello, grappa or jagermeister.

I feel more relaxed when I wander into the bars here now, still imperfect and prone to crave cappuccino at inappropriate times but less worried.

Bar Boomerang is open from 7am until 9pm,  6 days a week – closed Sunday.  They also serve lunches but that’s another post over on the blog.

Pizzeria Ravecca da Pino, Genoa

I ate more pizza than I should have in Genova but eating becomes very much something I can’t be bothered doing when I’m out wandering ... cooking is even less likely to happen and so the pizzeria across the alley became a second home, specially while Pippa was staying. 

One night, I popped into the kitchen and took a series of photographs at Pizzeria Ravecca.
I liked this one.

Pizzeria Ravecca da Pino, Via Ravecca, 23r - 16128 Genova.

Scorpion

No one mentioned the scorpions in Genova ...

I met my first scorpion yesterday and watched horrified as a young man played with it, just a metre from my foot, trying to pick it up to throw it outside.

Seeing it brought back memories of a Turkish friend’s archeologist husband delighting in telling me tales of his time working in a place where you didn’t leave clothes on the tent floor and where you shook trousers before wearing them because ... scorpions are heat-seekers and the groin of the French archaeologist was where a group of scorpions ended up.

Was he teasing me?
Quite possibly but he was so amused by the French archaeologist's response, I suspect he was truth-telling.

This scorpion was pale black, between 1-2 inches long and looked like a crab maybe ... or perhaps more like one of those scorpions, seen only in books and on television until now.

Apparently the bigger they are, the less poisonous they are ... but how poisonous is less poisonous?  My informant was sorry to tell me but she had found one in her shower.  I came back to the apartment and checked the shower plug-cover was in place, and then popped a plug in the bath too.

It probably explains the small lines of yellow foul-smelling powder along door ledges on this street just lately.

Scorpions ... I hope to see no more with the camera I didn’t have on me yesterday.

Genoa!

It was a 1 hour and 15 minute flight to Milan ... perhaps 60euro.

Pippa, an old friend from New Zealand, not seen in 5 years, was there waiting for me in the arrivals hall in Milano.  It was so good to see this woman who knew me before I went wandering in a serious other-side-of-the-world way.  We negotiated the bus to Central Station in Milano, then the 2 hour train to Genova and voila, I was back in this place that has surely stolen my soul.

The apartment door opened with the key Paola had given me and she talked me through turning on the hot water via a phone call where I am sure that I exuded a simple deep happiness about returning. I walked to the supermarket, successfully navigated supplies, then Pippa and I had one of those fabulous pizzas for dinner later that night ...  amid much belly-laughter and that delicious silliness that persists between old friends despite any passage of time.

Today has been about two cappuccinos, excellent cappuccinos that you surely only find here in Italy. 
A divine foccacia breakfast - where the plain and the onion foccacia turned up on our table, with something I don’t know the name of but we both loved.
Photos and stories to follow, as this forno is surely one of the best fornos anyplace.

My new wifi cafe is a vegetarian restaurant just along the street from where I am staying and I couldn’t resist talking to the lovely people who work there.  Photographs and words to follow on this truly excellent cafe.  He introduced me to the farinata guy along the road, and I will post photographs and stories next week sometime. 

I think it is well-known that I am in love with a hilltop view here, the one out at Boccadasse and I took Pippa to visit with it today.  She’s a beach-lover and hilltop sitter like me and we talked for a long time, photographs to follow of how it was up there on the lookout after drinking limoncello at the bar in the old fishing village below. 

We returned to the city, visited my favourite bookshop and then came back via the supermarket and farinata shop for our dinner supplies.

It’s hot here, and just so very beautifully Italian.  I’m never sure that I will find the strength required to leave however ... I have more than a few days here to wrap up the Genova section.  Bear with me while I get those photographs and tidy up the interviews collected, find the new ones ... and then, well, you can join me from your place over there and visit the city of Genova with me.

Ciao!

Genoa, Bach and I

These last few days, I’ve been trying to capture the Genova I fell in love with while staying in Italy last year ...

There was a paragraph where I tried to describe the quietly sublime beauty of a Sunday morning spent alone in that city I love.

I wrote: Sunday, my first day alone and the city is emptied for football.  Slipping and tripping through the air comes the sound of the most exquisite violin ... drifting from some open window.  Delicate notes that create this perfect sound for an afternoon spent lying on a bed reading. I am lazy on this first day spent as a solitary creature, alone in a strange city where I know no one.

I wanted that music but stopped short of shouting from my open window to whichever neighbour was playing the music. 

I came home and forgot it about mostly, just pulling the memory out in moments peace.

Yesterday I was in FNAC, thinking I might like one book to celebrate this month’s pay cheque when I had this idea about making a fool of myself and asking about a delicate solo violin ...

The shop assistant listened and then said ‘Bach!’.

She took me over to a listening post and she was right.  If this isn’t the music I heard then it’s close enough to delight and carry me back into that place in time.

Below you can hear something of the music on the cd titled Bach 6 Solo Sonatas & Partitas, Viktoria Mullova.

Boccadasse, Italy

I began today processing people photographs, working at the kitchen table until it was time to set out in search of my morning cappuchino and the bus to Boccadesse … that old fishing village I walked to on Sunday.

Do you know ... it turns out that there is this bus that leaves from just below the apartment and stops near the top of the stairs that lead down to the beach at Boccadasse … so much simpler than walking and being lost in the heat of a Genovese autumn day.

I would write ’but the bus is less interesting’ except for the fact that I met the most interesting woman as I returned via the bus and we talked all the way back to the city. She was lovely. So even the buses are interesting here.

I arrived at the beach in time to watch a rain storm making its way down from the hills. I was up at the lookout for maybe an hour and it was stunning. I really don’t know how I will leave this beautiful city.

So there are photographs from today … as a creature who adores Nature I found it simple to take more than 100 images of light changes playing over the sea and then one or two other subjects I am passionate about. You see, I found the house I would like to live in …

Ciao from Genova in Italy.


The Little Fiat, Genoa

I uploaded some photographs and had no idea which order to blog them in but here goes ... let's begin with the cute little Fiat that we rented from Hertz.

Paola drove us from our Milano landing into Genova, passing through some beautiful hills as we approached our destination, making me feel a little nostalgic for New Zealand.

But the car ... cute, isn't it.

Day 2 - Genoa, Italy

Today has been a mad crazy freefall into the narrow streets of this ancient city.  Into interviews, into the kindness and generosity of a friend, and of many strangers too.

Without Paola there wouldn't have been the magical introduction to her hometown. I might have found these places but over time and without my translator.

This morning was meant to begin with a slice of the best focaccia in the world, and it did, but that led to an interview and photographs at the bakery an hour later. Not only that but we were sent on our way laden down with some more of the best-ever focaccia in the world. Photos to follow when my internet issues are resolved.

We discovered a cafe called Cafe Boomerang where the cappucchino was so creamy and light it was immediately marked down as a favourite.

We wandered the alleyways visiting a soap and ecetera place, an exotic old shop full of mysterious things and ... ended up conducting an impromptu interview with the owner.

Shoeshops, bookshops and then there was the fresh pasta shop with the cafe through in the other half - better I photograph it than explain, as words fail me here. On to the chocolate factory where we have an interview booked for 2.30pm, and the shops ... did I mention how quaint they are, and I use 'quaint' because I'm not sure how else to describe the old world charm of something that is real and apparently unchanged over decades.

Then there is the habit of aperitivo here.
I'm learning that if you order a drink at a bar, a huge plate of food may appear with it. It might be that I enjoy more than one glass of wine but I'm becoming quite traumatised by the quantity of food that comes with each glass. The waiter understood my 'Dear God!' last night and we all laughed.

So we stopped for a non-alcoholic Shirley Temple drink before lunch and out came the plate of food ... the peanuts, the pistachio, the chips, the salami, the cheese and the focaccia.

We were only there because I was needing to rest my achilles some before lunch.

Lunch was at Da Maria's - an interview is booked for later this afternoon but it is known as being an authentic and affordable Italian kitchen-type restuarant. Paola chose wild boar while I caught up with an old love ... ravioli.

And somewhere in-between the breakfast focaccia and the lunch there was also the very special and wildly extragavent expresso with bananas and whipped cream. We went to the original shop and not one of the copycat shops that have appeared since.

Genova is a beautiful, warm and welcoming city.
It has raced to the top of my favourite places in the world list ... let's see how it goes in the days ahead.

I hope alles goed where ever you are.
Ciao!