Beach bum day. Yes, today. No other plans than to sleep, read swim, and have octopus for lunch. And maybe sleep, read, and swim in the afternoon. The Eight Mountains is perfect Italian beach reading: beautiful, reasonably light, and insightful.
Even if it’s just us and a few thousand other beachgoers, the last beach club before Laigueglia is less busy. Even the beach guard’s eyes have an easier task here. 
(Alassio, Italy; July 2018)
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?
Wikipedia tells me that your kind was not brought from far Asia until the early 1800s, which means you are probably not more than two hundred years old. Do you agree? And by the way, did you know that the house you grow on is three hundred years older yet?
(Genoa, Italy; July 2018)
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.
There are impressive piranha teeth – and there are possibly even more impressive sawfish teeth. Why keep your teeth in your mouth when you can grow a jaw outside of your skull and place your teeth around its outer lining? Much easier to stun and cut prey, yes? 
(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?
(Although how would any of these know about freedom, living in a fish tank?)
(Genoa aquarium, Italy; July 2018)
We humans like borders. Territories. Yours and mine. Ours and theirs. It started with “my fireplace and your fireplace”, expanded into “my yard and your yard”, and finally into “my country and your country”.
Many European kingdoms of times gone by were small. Just as far as one’s eye could see – and no further, because who knows what looms behind those mountains? Genoa used to be a city republic. A little like Athens in ancient times. The borders ran just as far as one’s eye could see: up along the ridges of the hills. So did the walls around Genoa, too. Like a miniature version of the Great Wall of China. The walls are walkable today – if you have good balance.
The trails up along the hills are many, and they are tiny. Please take a photo of the map at the trailhead, and ensure your Google Maps is loaded to show the map of the area even if you go offline. You may get lost – and the distances are surprisingly large.
Fortunately, because this is Italy, one can find little restaurants and osterias in surprising locations. And oh, what delicious melanzane alla parmigiana did we find in a little village restaurant! Who cares if the serving was simple and the television was loud inside – the view was breathtaking and the food and a simple rosé wine took any remaining breath away. Where, you might ask? You will have to find out by yourself. Just follow the path up from the Righi funicular station, past the fortresses. You will be hungry by the time you find this little gem.
(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 claims to be the birthplace of Christopher Columbus – although how much of his life he actually spent here is not well known. Green pesto Genovese was of course also born here. It is delicious and sampled everywhere – as long as you adhere to the strict meal hours of the restaurants; lunch 12 noon to 2 pm and dinner 7.30 pm onwards. Oh woe if you are hungry anywhere between 2 pm and 7.30 pm: your only choice is to order a drink (with alcohol of course, even if your stomach growls), in order to obtain the sizeable platter of antipasto that comes along (for free!).
And some less ordinary things just make sense here. For example, why not build a cathedral in black-and-white striped marble? It looks absolutely classy. And I am sure it was a shocker when it was unveiled.
Take day – or preferably at least four or five. Explore the Centro Storico, the museums, the aquarium, the hills accessible by cable cars, and the grand palazzos. 
(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?
It turned out that the best option was to book a return ticket to Milan (of all places!), with airmiles. The grand total ended up at 15 EUR per ticket. Because Genoa and the Ligurian coast is reachable by train from Milan, just a few hours away. 
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.
We encountered very few non-Italian speaking fellow travelers on the streets. We ended up having to dust off our elementary Italian quite quickly. But there were streets lined with gorgeous marble palazzos. And other streets lined with colorful umbrellas. And back in July, there still was a tall bridge elevated up above the city, and the fatal collapse was an unforeseeable future.
(Genoa, Italy; July 2018)
This blue marble 