Hey Alassio! We read about you, perceiving you to be a quiet beach resort of times gone by, the “forgotten Riviera”. Well, you surprised us. Thank you for allowing this one rare shot with only two people in it – because the rest of the week you crowded us with Italian tourists. And especially at night, while walking on the promenade, you made us feel like we, as the only non-Italian tourists, stumbled upon an Italian holiday secret.
And what a secret. We quickly learned we had to book our beach chairs in advance, as there is such a thing as an entirely full beach. We also quickly learned that any beach shack serves the most excellent lunch (and any dish containing pulpo, or octopus, is not to be missed).
We also learned that it is not correct to stop in front of a pedestrian crossing, if a car is parked or stopped in front of it. The way to do it here is to simply drive and hope nobody gets crushed. Otherwise our little Cinquecento will get crushed by the road rage-y driver behind us. But when we do see pedestrians crossing, we must stop, unless we desire having the hood of our car beaten by a raging pedestrian family father. We know this for a fact.
(Alassio, Italy; July 2018)
Dear old wisteria, how old are you? How were you brought to the rooftop of the palazzo Doria Tursi on via Garibaldi? Were you a sight to be seen, covered in periwinkle flowers? Were you the centerpiece of a pre-dinner cocktail gathering? How many kisses stolen and promises of love fervently whispered have you hidden underneath your branches?
Why are painted renaissance naked newborns always boys? And why do they actually look more like old men than boys? Also, why do the women never look like they are in full possession of their wits? Thoughts as we tour the palazzos of via Garibaldi…
No, this is not the Versailles. This is not even in France. The Italian aristocrats knew how to build palazzos, too. And in Genoa they built an entire street of palazzos. Imagine it as any other neighborhood: families living next-door to each other – except for instead of a house or an apartment each would have a gilded castle to themselves, complete with rooftop gardens large enough to serve cocktail parties and balls. 
And while we are imagining: what must it have been like to know that any given night there was some dinner or ball attracting dozens of carriages into the tiny street? Oh the hubbub. And oh the shame, if one was not invited.
(Genoa, Italy; July 2018)
Teeth and bones and fins. That is what piranhas are made of. I once learned it the hard way, trying to fish for a living in the Amazon. They do not make a proper or tasty meal. I tried my best to catch arapaimas and arawanas, but all I got was piranhas. Over and over again, while our base manager miraculously pulled up delicious fish out of the living fish soup that was the Amazon in dry season. Most of the time the piranhas chewed off my bait so I lost the hook and sinker, too. I often wondered whether our base manager was using a spell or a mantra before throwing out his fishing line. Even if we were performing the exact same action I was obviously doing something wrong.
(Aquarium of Genoa, Genoa, Italy; July 2018)
That one free-floating jellyfish reminds me of Richard Bach’s Jonathan Livingston Seagull. The upside-down jellyfish actually considers upside as down, and the ocean floor as home. Just like the “breakfast flock” of the gulls Jonathan once called family, perhaps they are ignorant about what freedom really feels like?
(Genoa, Italy; July 2018)
Genoa is not an ordinary city. The old town has a certain coherence, but it is cut off the port by an expressway and viaducts. The port in itself has been revamped to look modern to the extent of futuristic. But it is all part of the charm.
(Genoa, Italy; July 2018)
“An underrated treasure”. “A gem worth discovering”. So begin many descriptions about the old port city Genoa, smack in the middle of the Italian Riviera. It was on a whim that we ended up here: having dinner and drinks one Sunday at my place, and on the phone with Finnair the next moment. The idea was to explore the Italian western Riviera, all the way to the French border. But how to get there, and cheaply?
And what a gem it was! So much history, so many layers, and so much to see. Palazzos and churches and shops; an aquarium, an old port area, and the old city walls up on the hills.
(Genoa, Italy; July 2018)
Summer fun begins. And it is a beautiful day to fly. I cannot quite count the mountain goats but I am sure there are flocks of them down there, enjoying the fresh green June grass.
This blue marble 