Summer Stroll

There are few things more relaxing than a stroll along the water's edge in the evening.

Generation after generation of Italians have grown up this way and lived this way their whole life.

The sun sets - eventually. It only really gets dark at about 9.30 p.m. in summer. The air cools. Tanned bodies in sandals and light summer clothing wander aimlessly. It's all about the pleasure of the moment. Ice-creams are eaten. Little children get to stay up late because their parents couldn't bear to stay at home when the evening is so cool. Teenage summertime romances are enacted each and every evening like an ongoing play - in episodes. Ice-cream parlors, arcades, pubs and restaurants with waterfront tables. The occasional event on a makeshift stage: singers, plays, TV comedians making a little extra money during their off season, or beauty pageants where teenagers get to parade up and down in front of the whole town.

The Porto Antico area in Genoa is a city version of all this. In fact, the coast of the city is lined with urban versions of this scenario. Corso Italia is the historical seaside promenade, and further up along the coast is the Marina Aeroporto area, which is quite recent.

I often go out for an evening walk in the Porto Antico since I live nearby.
On the evening I took these pictures, I discovered that my favorite relaxing place in the city - a group of barges with park benches on them I also discussed in the aquarium post - is finally back in place and open to the public.

Being the middle of summer, there is plenty of activity even well past midnight. This floating club is a good example (ok, a blurry example but you get the idea).

But it's not too hard to find quieter places - even just a few meters away from the clubs.

The western end, around the Galata Museo del Mare, is much quieter in the evening. During opening hours, this is a very interesting museum that deals with the city's historical connection with the sea and the maritime world.

The eastern end, on the other hand, is much more lively, with lots of pubs and restaurants. The streetlights are even brighter for some reason. Families walk up and down eating ice-cream (the famous Italian gelato). This is a national summer pastime - I can think of at least five ice-cream places in that precise area alone. Single people head for the clubs in search of company. The brave head for the outdoor karaoke place - here everybody can see and hear you.

On this particular evening, a group of English students decided to have an evening swim right next to the Coast Guard's boats - and right in front of the karaoke place. They stole the scene for a while, attracting horrified looks from some and amused looks from everyone else. The locals wouldn't be caught dead swimming in there - it is a port after all, so the water is polluted. Soon people got used to them and the karaoke drowned out the excited squeals in the background. I am almost sure most of the squeals were coming from the English tourists and not from the few old men hanging over the railing wishing they could join in.

Just past the karaoke area is a long series of buildings known as the Magazzini del Cotone (Cotton Warehouses - which is what they were before they were turned into restaurants, pubs, cinemas, etc.). On the front side you can walk along and look at boats I assume to be parked in order of increasing wealth.
Somewhere in the middle they become luxury yachts and toward the end, most of the time, I think they should be called ships and I'm quite sure they could easily house a family of fifty.
After the last and largest vessel, the buildings come to the end, and it is suddenly more peaceful and you can stand or sit awhile, looking out across the port, taking in the cool sea breeze.

And then, finally, like millions of other Italians all around the peninsula, you turn around and stroll back in the opposite direction.

Almost Tropical

The humidity hangs in the air like a heavy, suffocating coat. You wake up feeling hungover even though you had nothing to drink the night before. Your joints ache and you start to wonder if maybe your dinner last night had been poisoned somehow.

You get up, go through the motions like every other day. Willing yourself on. So much so that you forget to look out the window and up at the sky.

As you sit having breakfast, the first sign that catches your attention is when the lights flicker almost imperceptibly. You've seen and felt all the signs before, but as usual the heat and humidity, combined with the commitments of everyday life, distract you.

You leave the house, uplifted as always by the stillness of the morning air. Only this time the stillness is yet another warning that you fail to notice.

A giant drop of something wet lands directly on your head. Never a pleasant experience in the old city - it could be anything. You look up, scowling, hoping to catch the culprit as he silently retreats into his window (or nest).

That's when you notice that the sky is not its usual bright blue. It's dark, almost black. At that moment the next drop hits you square on the forehead, and you understand just as the heavens open and a wall of water hits the city from above.

Like so many scared  animals, people dash for cover. You notice people in Bermuda shorts and sandals already soaked from head to toe.

The force of the rain is so strong, gutters and drainpipes fail to do their job and turn into miniature fountains. Hitting horizontal surfaces, the water bounces right back up again, creating an interesting two-way rain effect.

Like many of the other people who live here, you do your best to avoid getting completely soaked by sticking to the upwind side of the street or piazza. It's no use, of course, but you'll at least be able to fool yourself that it could have been worse.

As fast as possible, you make your way to the portico near the waterfront. Here, you can finally stand, relatively sheltered, and absorb the massive energy of the storm. You just stand there for a while in the crowded shelter. About ten people ask you if you want to buy an umbrella. Everyone and everything seems alive, vibrating.

Then, after a while, just as  quickly as it started, it stops. The air is cool - frizzante they say here (like mineral water - sparkling). In ten or twenty minutes time the sky will have turned completely blue again. The sun will be as hot as ever. But just for  today, in the shade it will be refreshing and the air will be less sticky and humid.

The city has had a well-needed wash. People who have been soaked through to the bone stand there and smile, refreshed, and quickly drying off in the morning sun.

And you continue on your way, all aches and groggy feelings finally gone.

Extending The Largest Aquarium in Europe

It has finally turned in to a hot, sticky, energy-zapping August here. Summer kept us waiting this year, and as is usually the case when that happens, the heat and humidity it finally brought with it are barely tolerable (ask any real Genovese).

Anyway, it's a Saturday evening and after over-filling my stomach I decided to go out for a walk along the water's edge in the very “touristy” part of the port known as the Porto Antico – which is ironic because in its current layout it is rather modern, and probably the newest part of the entire port – the rest being completely off-bounds to most people anyway.

I think the original work to modernize this part of the city was carried out for the 1994 commemoration of the 500^th anniversary of Columbus's discovery of the Americas.

Among other things, the Porto Antico area is home to the city's aquarium, which happens to be the largest in Europe, as well as the main tourist attraction, even for Italians from other parts of the country.

As I headed towards the sea, I noticed that there were more people than usual out this evening, and that's when I remembered they were installing the new extension to the aquarium, in the form of a giant dolphin tank.

The aquarium is designed like a tanker ship, parked alongside a pier that sticks out into the heart of the port. This pier is one of my favourite parts of the city, but not because of the aquarium (impressive as it may be).

If you walk straight past the aquarium and keep going until you get to the very end of the pier, you would normally reach this favourite place of mine: a series of three six retired barges that have been transformed into three floating public decks with railings all around the edges and lots of park benches to sit on, soaking up the sun or staring dreamily into the water, while the waves gently rock you.

This is perhaps one of the quietest, most peaceful and relaxing places you will find anywhere in the city although I have never been able to understand why.

Unfortunately, for several months now my beloved barges had been moved off to some remote and inaccessible corner of the port while dredging was carried out to make way for the dolphin tank, which has now been dragged through after it was built in a boatyard somewhere else in the port.

The front of the “ship”, which usually houses a restaurant, a curio shop and another public area with benches, was moved to one side; the dolphin tank attached in the middle; and then the front was added back on again.

I am happy to report that the barges now seem to have returned, although they are still closed off for now and not yet in their normal layout. Some further dredging is being carried out in the same area, so it may be a while before they are actually reinstated, but at least I can see them there.

On the downside, I measured the total length of the new dolphin tank module (a large swimming pool with an enclosed glass corridor along the public side of the deck next to it), and found that it measured roughly 100 of my own paces, walking slowly. At a run it would no doubt take me much less. I can only begin to imagine how many seconds it must take a dolphin to swim from one end to the other.

I will keep my eye on the situation and let you know when the barges are definitively back and just how happy the dolphins are looking once they move in...