Thursday 14th July

I woke up early and after a brief shower and breakfast, I gave the keys in to Driss and walked out of the flat and on towards Marseille Saint-Charles, the train and bus station without looking back. Marseille was quiet at this time in the morning, the chaos of the city had died down a little. This was pleasing to me!

I walked for a while. It is mostly uphill all the way so I think it seemed longer than it had when I had arrived. But I got there without any events or funny sights. I went to the wing of the station where the coaches were and found the correct stand. I was catching the fabled Flixbus. Honestly, I love Flixbus now. If I travelled Europe again, I would heavily consider doing it by Flixbus!

I showed my QR code ticket (nervously, my screen was smashed after all and I wasn’t sure the QR code reader would work) and popped my bag beneath, taking just my Kindle and headphones with me on to the bus. I found a decent window seat and we set off before long. However, at Aix-en-Provences, so many people came on that I offered my seat to a kid and her mother whilst I sat beside a lovely lady who offered me madeleines, one after another, whilst we made our way out of France. Happy Bastille Day!

The driver was also a interesting person to take note of. He was about 5ft small, with a square jaw rivalling Carl’s in Up. At every stop he made the same speech with a wide grin: “Je m’appelle Jean-Michael. Je suis votre chauffeur…” and then made some motion (with square hands) to make sure we put our seatbelts on and that the loo wasn’t working. He was funny it seemed, all the French speaking audience were laughing every time! By the end, I too was laughing – but at what, I have no idea.

The road worked it’s way along the side of the Mediterranean, the sea sparkling down below the cliffs on our right and mountains rising up the left. I even saw a glimpse of the Good Place (Monaco) down below us. The highway must have been drawn as a vaguely straight line on some architect’s map in the past since it pretty much went tunnel, bridge, tunnel, bridge, etc…. Just past the Italian border, we stopped for lunch and I got myself a slice of pizza. My expectations were high, it was Italy after all (by, like 1km). The pizza did not match my expectations though. I think Tesco’s own pizza was better! Eek! But, I mean, what else can you expect from roadside pizza on Bastille Day? It was just too crunchy really!

We arrived in Genoa at around 15:20ish and I walked through the city to my hostel. The city seemed incredibly cramped and a whole different style to the previous cities so far. There were main roads burrowing through big apartment blocks and the buildings seemed to be leaning in toward each other. The bus station was also situated at the docks and I saw immediately how industrial this city was.

The hostel was situated in a big commune building, a wide marble set of steps winding their way slowly around an old fashioned, cage elevator. You know, the ones with the sliding, concertinaed, accordion style doorway and old brass buttons set into worn wood. It was so delightfully Italian. The hostel itself seemed like it was two old flats which were knocked into each other to create a big warren of rooms and corridors. I checked in, signed up for the free walking tour the next day, and then dumped my bag in my room. I met one of my roommates, Chlöe, immediately. She was covered in tattoos and was dressed in matching harlequin style shorts and t-shirt. I didn’t really interact with her much though, she left the next morning at 04:00.

I went out to explore Genoa in the early evening. The hostel was situated right on the edge of the old part of town and so as I wandered down, I was walking through narrow-ish pedestrianised streets in the areas of Caranagio and Foce. There was a massive market on, selling all sorts of antique things, from old WW2 regalia to grandfather clocks and Italian opera vinyl’s. I forgot to take any photos of the market though, sad. There were plenty of second hand booksellers as well. My discipline was tested, I saw some truly beautiful Italian books and going super cheap too! But I only had one bag with me, so I would put back a book many times over and the old man in the wooden chair looked disappointed each time.

I made my way through this area of town towards the Arco della Vittoria, an arch very reminiscent to the Arc de Triumph. Of course, I would later find out that arches like these were everywhere in Europe, but still, I thought it was cool at the time. The sun was setting and there was a gentle sea breeze making it’s way through the passageways of the Genoa. There was a Gang of Youths hanging around the arch, so I made my way past them and up a flight of steps so I was looking down on the Piazza della Vittoria with the arch in the middle. Behind me, raised on a big platform and hidden by a large hedge, there were beach volleyball games going on. No where near the beach, but still very funky and fun to listen to as I sat on a bench with flaking paint, the dry smack of the ball and the competitor’s shouts and cheers and a couple sat on the steps below me, writing postcards.

I found some fresh, cheap focaccia for dinner. There were layers upon layers of focaccia stacked up high behind a glass fronted cabinet and the lady took the top one to cut up fresh for me. Loosely wrapped in greasepaper, I tucked in to it as I wandered my way through the antique stalls, heading vaguely back towards the hostel.

When I got back, I went to the common area since it was still relatively early. This was a super cute area. Walls painted a faded sunny yellow, there were wooden pallets covered in blankets and a worn velvet sofa inside the room, whilst painted wrought iron coffee tables with wobbly chairs were on the balcony outside. I sat out here and was joined first by an Irish guy and later a Welsh guy.

The Irish guy, I swear, chain-smoked the entire couple hours we chatted, happily going through half a box of cigarettes whilst the Welsh guy was a thoroughly burnt ginger – what I hoped my future did not look like! He was also definitely slightly dodgy and suss too. We had a nice enough chat though. Each of them were at the end of their respective travels and heading home in the next couple days. They each spoke of their time abroad, partying. Irish (I didn’t actually get either of their names, and if I did, I forgot them pronto) said that he hadn’t spent one entire night sober. He also told us how he was partying in Berlin with a guy on the run from the British police for something-or-other (not sinister he assured us, something like unpaid taxes). Welsh spoke a lot about philosophy, politics and art and how he loved Slovenia. I think he had spent the majority of his time in Eastern Europe and most lately at Lake Bled. They decided to go out drinking that night and invited me along, but I don’t think I was particularly up for an evening with people I don’t think are particularly up my street. And so I took a step back, only managed to count to two, before saying no. Making Andy proud.

Friday 15th July

I gave my laundry to the hostel in the morning, where they assured me that it would be finished by this evening, before going on my free walking tour. This was highly recommended by the hostel and all the online reviews and was run in cooperation between three other hostels. As such, I met the people at my hostel who were also spending their morning on a walking tour and we walked to the meeting point where we met everyone else. The walking group consisted of:

• Tyler and Maddie, a couple from the States (California, specifically) who were my age. Maddie had been travelling for the last six weeks and Tyler had joined her for the last two weeks. This was Tyler’s penultimate day and we spent a lot of the time chatting about the rules of baseball and how that sport works.
• A German girl who I can’t remember the name of (Andrea maybe?) who was leaving us halfway through to go meet a friend for lunch. She was in Genoa for the Friday, Saturday and Sunday only and spoke impeccable English.
• Edith, a Swedish girl who was only 18 and heading to university come September. She was actually applying for her student accommodation as we were doing the walking tour and was a little stressed about it since it seemed to be working on a “first come, first served” basis.
• Nathalie from Peru. She was a middle aged woman who was doing a spot of travelling in Europe for the first time. She gave me a 10 céntimos coin which was kind of her. Made me richer for it!
• Alexia from Buenos Aires, Argentina. She had come across to Genoa to find out about her ancestry since Genoa was the main emigration place for the Italians leaving Italy in the 20^th century. She had a meeting lined up with an old, retired priest later that day and was hoping to head to the emigration records department the next day. Issue is, there was a flood a while back which damaged the emigration centre, so it was apparently a lottery if the records of her family had survived that or not. I didn’t actually manage to find out what happened there. I hope she found some clarity. Apparently one of the major reasons to come to Genoa from overseas is for this exact reason, to find out about ancestry.
• And finally, Spyros, our guide! He was the most charming, charismatic guy ever. He was from Cyprus and had followed a girl back to Genoa and then decided to make a career out of showing the city to tourists (so he went and spent several months in the library and speaking to people to learn as much about Genoa as physically possible since, he himself, started out as a tourist as well) and now worked 360/365 days a year, taking time off for Christmas, Boxing Day, New Year’s day and his and his partner’s birthdays. He was so enthusiastic and seemed to greet every other person as he showed us around.

Our motley walking crew headed out around Genoa and I think I now really love Genoa. I had a truly amazing time with this group of people. Genoa has so many quirks. We learnt so much from Spyros, about the unique hierarchy of windows (due to heat and light from the slate roofs and packed buildings, living at the top sucked due to too much heat, and the bottom sucked due to lack of light. So the biggest windows, and therefore the rich, lived in the middle of buildings. Sandwiched by servants, above and below), Genovian stereotypes (cold to outsiders but tight to friends, and as cheap and unflashy as possible. They apparently boast about how little they spend and their bargains. This is a well known stereotype throughout Italy), industries of Genoa (weapon manufacture in WW2. The Genovese then sold their own munitions to the Allies, who then subsequently shelled Genoa with that munition made in Genoa. But also current day large steel and metal works. And shipping, of course, massive amounts of shipping), history of Genoa (greatest naval power in the Mediterranean. The English asked for their help during the crusades, then used their boats to build siege equipment and afterwards, returned to England with the Genovese flag. Yes, the St Georges cross was everywhere in Genoa since the English flag was originally the Genovese flag!).

We walked around everywhere for a close three hours and I had an amazing time. Going on free walking tours really open your eyes and make you appreciate the city which you are staying in! As a group, we also all got some focaccia from the oldest focaccia place in town (a literal hole in the wall. One person at a time), but we also tried a Genovese special called farinata which was made from chickpeas and was, in my opinion, better than the focaccia. And of course, gelato from Rosa, one of Spyros’ many friends he had made. She had a very unique turmeric flavoured special gelato that day, although I wasn’t brave enough to try it.

After exchanging numbers and making plans to go out that evening (not Spyros, sad. Nor the German girl, she was with her friend), I went to the Musei di Strada Nuevo where I had to walk through exhibitions of renaissance art, pottery, coins, weights, sculpting to finally make it to what I went for, the Paganini Violins. These were the genuine instruments which the man himself played on and are arguably the most famous instruments in the world/history. Or maybe infamous is more accurate. Hmmmm

I crashed back at the hostel after collecting my laundry. I had some time before dinner so I napped a little before sighing and making myself do the fun job of sorting out laundry. I soon went to dinner at Trattoria da Maria where everyone (Tyler, Maddie, Edith at least) was congregating. We were joined by Thomaso and Hammia, people which Tyler and Maddie had bumped in to at the hostel and invited out with us because of the principle or “more the merrier”

Thomaso was from Rome and was the groups translator. He was this wonderful person and taught us all the hand sign language that the Italians have. I had a really interesting conversation with him regarding the difficulty of Gender in a language which has gender so ingrained in it’s structure. Hammia meanwhile was a Dutch student who was doing an internship in France and was also meeting a friend in Genoa for the weekend and so had caught a Flixbus down. Flixbus for the win!

But yeah, we had a big table for dinner, full of people who had not really met each other, and yet we had a great time! It was cheap and delicious. The menu was a handwritten piece of paper and photocopied so many times that it was tough to figure out what it said, never mind what the translation was! Thomaso was struggling a load with telling us what each item was! A surprisingly large amount of us were vegetarian as well, so a lot of what we ordered and knew was “safe” had the word “pesto” in it! There was also a table of loud Swedes close by which made Edith perk up all of a sudden since she had not seen another Swede for the entire time that she had been travelling!

We then went to a bar afterwards where Alexia and Nathalie joined us, along with Oana (I think this is how you spell it. I was told to pronounce it like Moana but without the “M” sooo…) from the hostel. Oana was from Romania but currently lived in Dublin. She, too, was a chain smoker and her life story wasn’t the prettiest really. I actually struggled talking to her since we were from completely different walks of life. Like, total opposites. But she was a kind person nonetheless. She had come to Genoa for the weekend to top up her tan.

Before long though, since I had a Flixbus in the early morning, I had to leave. I mean, I am talking like 00:30ish, so getting towards the late end in my book. Oana and Hammia joined me in walking back to the hostel whilst Thomaso convinced Maddie and Tyler to go to a club with him. No idea what everybody else did. But yeah, spoilers, they didn’t go clubbing in the end and came back to the hostel only twenty minutes after we had gotten back ourselves.

Impression

I like Genoa, from my entire trip I put it easily in the top 5 places I went. More for the company and people than the city which was cramped and industrial but charming in it’s own way.

Al’s Random Facts and Fun Stuff

• Days spent in Town: 2
• Bakeries visited: 3. And a gelateria
• Pages read: not much actually, too much social interaction.
• Jazz Clubs visited: 0
• Number of things that went wrong: 0
• Memorable moment: Seeing wine served in a jug instead of a bottle or glass.
• Music Suggestion based off of the city: Achilles, Gangs of Youths
• Average Ginger seen a day: 2
• Postcards sent: 0
• Burnt-o-meter: 3/10 still
• Number of items lost: Remains at 2 (*sobs for Juanca*)
• Hostel rating: 10/10. Cultivated an amazing atmosphere for people to relax and enjoy themselves in.