Extreme Caffeine

Italians don't just love coffee, they have a real obsession with it. Making coffee for an "educated" public can be challenging to say the least... But what can be even more challenging is to figure out just what kind of coffee a tourist is trying to order, since the authentic version is often quite different from what is served under the same name in the rest of the world. Also, knowing the correct name of the coffee you are ordering, even if you don't speak the language, can make you feel much more sure of yourself.

When looking for a shot of caffeine while touring the city, keep in mind that bar and cafe are essentially the same thing, and bar does not necessarily refer to the same type of place identified by this name in other countries... It is unlikely that you will find the name cafe on many of these establishments. Other than the more common bar, you may find a caffetteria, which may specialize in coffee alone and may or may not serve alcohol... and that's another difference from the rest of the world. In Italy, it is almost unthinkable to open a cafe  maybe with tables outside in the sun, often without, and not serve alcohol (you can try, but you'll get a lot of complaints).

So, here is a brief look at the main varieties of coffee sold in bars around Genoa. Please keep in mind that some names vary from city to city, but I'll try and make that clear as I make my way through the list.

• Caffè is a plain espresso, with no sugar for somebody who really knows there coffee, sweetened if you can't handle it. People say you cannot really tell the quality of a coffee once you've put sugar in it.
• Caffè ristretto is a concentrated version of an espresso... hardly worth the effort.
• Caffè lungo is an espresso, in the same cup, but the cup is filled almost to the top.
• Caffè macchiato is an espresso with a dash of hot milk: first the liquid part, then the creamy foam on top (it should look like a micro-cappuccino).
• Cappuccino is absolutely not that stuff with whipped cream on top that you get in other countries. The amount of coffee in one cappuccino is one espresso; of the space that's left, half should be filled with the liquid part of the milk, and half with the creamy foam.
• Latte macchiato: usually served in a tall glass, more liquid milk, less foam; the espresso coffee is added afterwards, leaving a brown mark on top of the foam where the coffee went in (hence the "macchia", or stain)
• Marocchino: same as the caffè macchiato, only it is served in a glass cup, with cocoa powder between the layers of coffee and milk, and then on top to finish. This particular coffee is known as a Marocchino only in Genoa and the surrounding areas, in just about every other city it has a different name.
• Mokaccino: also in a glass cup, espresso coffee with whipped cream on top, possibly with a little chocolate syrup either as a topping or in the bottom of the glass to mix with the coffee.
• Caffè americano: this is what you get when you just can't handle another espresso, although it is still not filter coffee. The barman should make you an espresso coffee in a cappuccino cup, and then give you a small jug of hot water on the side, which you use to dilute the espresso. Most Italians find this ridiculous, although in recent years it has become more "normal" to order one without attracting too many sideways glances or comments from your friends.
• Caffè decaffeinato: the decaf version of the espresso; add the word "decaffeinato" to any of the above and you get a caffeine-free version of what you ordered.
• Caffè d'orzo: coffee lovers beware! This is not coffee! Orzo means barley and that's exactly what it is. Actually, I think it was originally a wartime substitute, and then just stuck because it was caffeine-free. For those who wish to try it for the first time, I usually say it tastes much how you would expect wet cardboard to taste, although you can learn to appreciate it. It usually comes in two versions: small, in the espresso cup, or large in the cappuccino cup.
• Caffè al ginseng: this is one of those chemical concoctions they have come up with in recent years for those who have decided they need an alternative. It is not really caffeine free, as most of it is, in fact, instant coffee and powdered milk, and if I'm not mistaken the whole mixture only contains something like one percent ginseng extract. On the other hand, if you like sweet, milky drinks this one is good, and once you start it tends to become addictive. Like the caffè d'orzo it is usually available in a large or a small cup.
• Caffè shakerato: this is generally a summer coffee, served cold. It is made by pouring an extra-long espresso in a cocktail shaker full of ice, shaking it, and pouring it through a strainer into a glass (a martini glass, for example). There are obviously an infinite variety of these. The first distinction to be made is with or without sugar, which should be added before shaking. Then you have to decide whether you would like it alcolico (with alcohol, usually Bailey's, amaretto or vanilla, but you can really add whatever you want) or analcolico (alcohol-free).
• Cioccolato caldo: litteraly hot chocolate, a good one is so dense you can almost stand your spoon in it, so don't be too surprised when you receive a cappuccino cup containing what looks like hot chocolate pudding. "Con panna" means with whipped cream, it all depends on how much sugar you want in your bloodstream at one time.

That just about sums up the basics of ordering coffee in Italy, the list could and should be much longer, but that would go beyond my purpose here. However, if you are planning a trip to Italy, I hope you practice the name of your favorite coffee beforehand, just so you can enjoy the look on the barman's face when you ask him... 

Raining Umbrellas

It's a slightly less grey, slightly less wet day today. It has been raining/drizzling steadily for the past week and everything is now positively soaked; the rivers are full, so full that the adventurous take their kayaks out into the mountains and try their luck on streams that would normally be more rock than water. The countryside only seems more beautiful, more intensely green, more plentiful in this weather.

The city, of course, is another story. To begin with, this situation generally puts the already struggling public transport system under serious strain. Due to the lack of space, Genoa is one of the cities with the highest number of motorcycles (or two-wheeled vehicles, anyway) per inhabitant - I'm not saying that because I looked it up somewhere, I'm merely stating a fact that you will very soon find out for yourself if you come here. This usually means that as soon as it begins to rain, many people leave their motorbike at home and jump on the nearest bus/train. This would not be so bad, except for the fact that many others leave their motorbike at home and decide to take the car. This means an almost instant traffic jam along the entire length of the city.

It also means that many people get to work an hour or more later than usual. I have never been able to understand why anybody would want to contribute to and get stuck in what is  bound to be a traffic jam.

Within the centre of the city I have to admit that things are not as bad as people make them out to be. The new metropolitana, or its latest extended version, makes moving along that specific line much easier. If you happen to live just outside the city, on the other hand, things can be a bit more complicated, and the further out you go, the more frustrating the public transport system becomes.

On days like this, you will notice a rather strange phenomenon: as it starts to rain, you turn around and suddenly there will be someone on just about every corner with an armful of umbrellas to sell. In spite of the repetitive nature of the "no, thank you" ritual, it can be quite convenient, especially when you are one of those people who never watch the weather and almost never leave home with an umbrella.

This is a rather tricky subject, as it would technically be illegal not only for you to buy these umbrellas and for them to be sold to you, but even for the salesperson in question to be there in the first place. Italy has a flourishing community of illegal immigrants, each one out there everyday trying to sell whatever they can to earn a few euros and at least manage to eat something before sending the bulk of that money back to their families.

The real dilemma, however, is whether to actually by from them or not. Their merchandise (umbrellas when its raining, sunglasses and swimming trunks on the beach in summer, and then bracelets, books, clothes, bags, etc.) comes from people who make good money out of the sale of large quantities, while the individuals actually doing the work are lucky to make fifty cents to one euro per umbrella, for example. In order to make a decent daily income, therefore, would require the sale of something like fifty umbrellas, which is highly unlikely when competition is so intense.

Then there is the matter of going legal. You need documents to find a job and you need a job to get your documents. Luckily, the occasional loophole is found, which means that, occasionally, somebody manages to hold on to a minimum wage job, survive, send home some cash and maybe, after the first year, finally go home and visit their families. Realistically speaking, for many this process takes no less than five or six years, if you're lucky.

Consider this: you leave home with nothing. You leave your wife and children to live with your parents while you're gone (this is a typical solution), and then you face the unknown, thinking this will give you and your family a better future. You then have to cross the desert, cross borders, and then manage to survive crossing the Mediterranean sea on an overcrowded sardine can (a cruise which will cost you your life savings), avoid getting shot at or sunk, make it to the shore, and then survive five or six years without getting into any serious trouble.

Then, when you finally manage to go back home (on holiday), your whole family has aged in your absence. Kids who were newborns or even still in the womb when you left are now much bigger, and although they are your own they look at you as if you were a stranger...

Many Europeans had to go through similar experiences when moving to the new world up until about sixty years ago. A very large percentage of the population of this region left during that time and never returned. The city and the surrounding areas benefited from all this in the form of money their relatives received here "at home". Entire neighbourhoods were built up out of nothing thanks to that money.

Nowadays, that is a distant memory for some, while others try their best to "integrate" their new neighbours and understand more of their culture and way of life.

There is an ongoing debate as to whether or not the Muslim communities should be allowed to build a mosque in the city, and where. Every time a decision is made, the inhabitants of the chosen neighbourhood cause havoc until they are assured that this will not happen. In the meantime, the Muslim communities in question have set up several locations they refer to as "prayer halls": old shops, for  example, that had to be sold during this never-ending financial crisis, opened up and filled with rugs. It is not uncommon to be walking along and to catch a glimpse - at knee height, for example, in those shops and store rooms that were just below street level - of row upon row of men bowed down in prayer.

The odd thing in all this is that, historically, the city of Genoa was known for being very open-minded and tolerant towards foreign cultures on all sides of the Mediterranean and, a few centuries ago, the city is reported to have had at least two mosques...

A Vineyard in the City

One of the characteristics of the old city that never ceases to amaze me is the presence of relatively large piazzas and churches right where you would least expect them to be, without any major streets of any kind leading up to or past them. These are obviously not the giant squares you will find in other, newer parts of the city, but in comparison to their surroundings they really do feel quite big.

When you live in this part of the city, it can soon feel very "closed in" if you are not careful about "getting out" from time to time. All these tall buildings lining narrow lanes, most of which bulge out somewhere around the second floor, can block out a lot of light. This can be either pleasant, for example in August, when the shade and relative coolness can give you some relief from the breathtakingly humid summer heat, or rather unpleasant, for example in the middle of winter when it is already dark around five o'clock in the afternoon as it is, and you really have to bend over backwards to see what colour the sky is.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but this is just to give you an idea. It is at times like this that discovering a hidden garden or square just around the corner is a real treat.

Piazza delle Vigne is one such place. Entirely surrounded by the tiniest streets, it may come as quite a surprise if you are not expecting it. One of the alleys leading up to it is so narrow it feels like you're going to have to squeeze through the end. 

Then, all of a sudden, you're through and the square just opens out in front of you, and suddenly you feel like you can breath again. On a clear sunny day, you look up and the contrast between the greyish, decadent buildings and the bright, blue, beautiful sky seems like it was always meant to be seen that way.

A cool breeze drifts across the square, while workers march up and down with wheelbarrows, bags of cement, or whatever, other people hang around the corners in small groups talking about nothing in particular, and a few sit at the tables outside a café, having a drink or just taking it all in.

Behind them is the façade of a large church, known as the Basilica delle Vigne (http://www.basilicadellevigne.it/ - unfortunately only in Italian but it will give you a better idea). The original church is thought to have been built here as far back as the Sixth century, while the oldest visible parts are the bell tower and the cloisters, dating back to the Tenth century. In an attempt to visit the cloisters, I discovered that they are occupied by the local Catholic boyscouts (apparently, the Italian branch of the scout movement started here, and subsequently developed into two distinct branches, the Catholic boyscouts and the lay boyscouts). The rest of the church has changed a lot and most of what is now visible is from the 1500s.
This sanctuary, devoted to the Madonna as many around here are, was originally built outside the city walls, and was surrounded by vineyards (hence the name: vigne = vines), although that scenario is impossible to imagine now.

The funny thing about this is that these wealthy, adventurous warrior-merchants, who sailed the seas to all corners of, well, the Mediterranean at that time, fought battles, travelled through the desert, made business deals with both the Muslim and the Christian sides, drew charts of coastlines and wrote detailed accounts of all these adventures; these same people made little pilgrimages to this sanctuary which was just outside their city walls!

Entering these churches always makes me feel a bit like I'm entering a time warp of some kind. Everything slows down, everyone is respectfully silent (or at least tries to be), and you get to see works of art that people spent incredible amounts of time working on. All this really puts things back into perspective.
And then there is the advantage that if you wish to do so, you can just sit down and be quiet for a while, and it is unlikely that anyone will disturb you.

Then, when you've taken it all in, when you feel the tension has eased off your shoulders somewhat, when you feel ready to take on the rest of the city again, you can just stand up and leave.
You can hear your own footsteps echo all the way to the door. When you get there, turn around and have one last look before you go because no matter what your beliefs, these places were built to be awe inspiring.

When you step out through the door, especially in summer, the light outside can feel almost blinding at first, and as your eyes adjust so your mind starts to return to its normal activities.

The irony in all this is that just a few metres down the nearest alley, some very "worldly" transactions are taking place pretty much all the time, at any time of day (this helps to explain at least some of the "time warp" effect). So as you are walking home, or to work, or wherever it is you are going, feeling all refreshed and relaxed, choose your immediate "path" wisely and try not to pay any intention to the voice whispering "andiamo?" from the shadows of the side alley as you walk past... it may spoil the whole experience for you.