Summary
Lazy morning at our hotel then met up with friends Ron and Nancy (just in from Athens) at the train station for our trip south to Genoa. Checked into our hotel then took off exploring on foot. Genoa is full of beautiful old buildings, arcaded walkway, and charming side streets and alleyways. Aperativi, dinner, then a strenuous stairclimb – just because.
Details
We’re up early again. While not totally on local time yet, we’re getting better. Knowing the yummy breakfast awaiting us downstairs makes getting up easier. The coffee is good, strong, and plentiful. Everyone says Buongiorno.
We study the buffet more than yesterday. There are croissants, yes, but there are also black colored croissants, maybe chocolate? There’s an enormous vessel of Nutella with a pump handle, pancakes and a way to rewarm them, so much cut up fresh fruit. There’s arugula (rocket) and beautiful, sweet cherry tomatoes. There are lots of different bread stuffs, ranging from soft and squishy to hard and crunchy (read “nordic”). There’s butter but also margarine, perhaps for the Americans?
Check out is at noon, and we will be checking out. We bathe and pack. We’re training on down to the coast, to Genoa, the birthplace of pesto. You gotta love the people who invented pesto.
We check out and summon an Uber for our ride to the central train station. They thankfully do have Ubers here, but only the pricier, nicer ones (Uber X and Uber Black). Still not too bad price-wise. Certainly better than two almost 70-year olds schlepping a mountain of luggage on the public transport.
At the train station we hook up with friends from Austin, Ron and Nancy, at the Paul bakery. We do a cursory update on their recent travels through Turkey and Greece and then buy sandwiches for the train.
Up to train level we watch the board for our track number. We don’t want to only ever be a number in life, but on this voyage we’re known as Track 18 Car 2 Seats 5C and 5D. There’s WiFi, power, and pastoral/industrial scenery quietly flying by the window outside. Our stop, in Genoa, is the second one, about 70 minutes from now. Again, quite a civilized way to travel.
Off the train, we find the exit is one level down, under the tracks. Thankfully we’re first in line for the elevator. By the time it moseys back up to our floor our number has grown from four to seven, complete with luggage. Luckily we all fit (barely). The sign in the elevator proclaims that absolutely no more than 13 people may ride on this particular elevator at one time. We scratch our heads and try to puzzle out how any group of 13 (unless part of a traveling Cirque de Soleil troupe) might fit.
Our amusement ends as the elevator reaches the lower floor, almost. It stops but the doors don’t open. We repeatedly try the different buttons to get the car going again but to no avail. Soon we press (and then press and hold) the alarm button. Eventually an Italian voice crackles over the tinny speaker. The Italians with us explain our predicament. After some back and forth it’s agreed they’ll come and rescue us. We like this plan.
In no hurry a man all in yellow appears through the glass. Yay! We soon learned that his job is to inform us that someone is coming to rescue us. That person shows up a minute or so later with the key. He unlocks the door and between his efforts, and ours, we pry it open (mostly). We are able to squeeze out with our luggage and are once again on our way.
After a good bit of confusion and false starts we realize our hotel is very close by, in plain sight. We just have to cross quite a few different cross walks. The cars are small but fast and we gather they’d hurt. There seem to be two kinds of people here, those to obey the traffic lights and those who don’t. We joined the first camp.
We check in and are directed to our rooms on the third and fourth floors. Thankfully there’s an elevator, old though it may be. It’s labeled both Shindler and Otis. In case we have another elevator mishap there is a phone for us to call someone. It’s one of those old ones from the early 1900s, it would appear. We’re instructed to please ensure both doors are fully closed after we get off, otherwise they have to trudge up the five flights of stairs to close the doors.
Our room is warm and welcoming. Too warm. I eventually realize the heater’s on. I kill it and open the windows to the lovely 60 degrees breezes wafting in from the Mediterranean.
Back down to the 1st floor we meet up with Nancy and Ron to explore. We’re told our hotel has a passage to the swanky hotel next door which has a spa and gym. Does it have a bar? Yes, in the summertime, on the top floor. Now, in the wintertime the space is used for business meetings.
The passage connecting the two hotels is decorated with life sized samurai warriors, complete with wooden flip-flops. Hopefully their foot gear is military grade. Up on the 7th floor we inspect what would have been the bar. The meeting rooms were set up, but all of the glass, views, and sunshine made the place perfect for a quick mid-meeting nap.
Back on the street we walk, taking in the sights. We wander down the street our hotel’s on. Being so close to the central train station the street regularly has big, loud, smelly busses lumbering by. The street’s not too wide so the proximity to the traffic isn’t pleasant. There are huge gorgeous churches and other buildings, but they’re so close you can’t really get a good look.
Taking a turn we’re soon on a pedestrians only wide boulevard. This is more like it. We follow this a long way to a big open place with statues and big marble buildings, including banks and the bourse (stock exchange). Between that and the churches you can tell to where the money flows.
Continuing down the other side we’re under a (once) impressive portico made of marble with mosaic floors. It’s pretty but a tad grungy. It goes on forever and it’s fairly well populated with locals. We look but can’t find a bar (for an aperitivo) to save our lives. Continuing on we encounter an “overpass” that would rival the Arc du Triumph in Paris. Atop it, and continuing in either direction appear to be huge trees. They’re way over our heads.
We turn around and Ron eventually does steer us to a fun outside bar where we have Negroni and waters.
After a quick stop at our hotel we dash across the street to a bright nautically themed seafood restaurant for a tasty meal. The people everywhere are as friendly as they can be. They do speak English but don’t always know all the English words for things on the menu we don’t understand.
On our after dinner walk we find a staircase leading up to who knows where. It seems to challenge us to see if we can do it. We go up and it turns, and goes up some more, and on and on. We do OK. Back at the hotel we’re bushed and ready for bed. Tomorrow’s a big day.
Photos
[Gentle reader, please be aware that these pictures are in reverse chronological order, that is, with the oldest at the bottom. This isn’t as I would wish but I haven’t figured out how to switch them around without oodles of effort. Please to excuse.]
