A final farewell to Genoa is in order. We are juggling cars, luggage, people and aiming for a morning at the port where the boat show is in progress. We have an old friend, now in a nursing home, to visit for a final goodbye to her. It was she who first , several years ago, took me under her tutorial wing, and showed me how to shop, take a bus, and wander around in this old city. It has some Chicago vibes, which is probably why I’ve always been so comfortable here, ancient dirt and all.
The most important news first. John’s wallet, including things like a passport, driver ‘s license, and medical cards, are all intact, even though cash, credit, etc, are all gone. But- the important things are there, The rest, well, maybe our thieves were also good samaritans and turned it into the lost and found station someplace. It’s a nice thought. Mostly, Barceloneans were so very polite and gracious to us.
They internet here is sporadic at best. We have three hot spots working, but then only one bar. So, when it s cycles back around to 3 bars, we all run into the best place for connection, which is Bill’s room, like a flock of birds, we all rush from one place- usually the kitchen table, carrying our devices, to the room that is currently flowing with internet magic. Then we all migrate back to the kitchen when it traitorously retreats, only to wait until we have internet power again. Such is life in a palazzo.
We pick John up tonight at about 10.00 PM and then drive to our little ‘Agriculturala’ Bed and Breakfast in Bettola, which is the last stop our ancestors had before leaving Italy some many years ago. It is our favorite somewhat distant cousin Francesco’s bar nearby as well.
Hooray- we will be completed with our group, and the quiet of the country will be good for Elaine, whose been sick off and on since the upsetting pickpocketing incident.
The San Lorenzo Cathedral is magnificent as always, resplendent in its black and white facade, around the corner from the Ducal Palace, all the money and power concentrated in one place in the middle of the oldest part of the city. (And magnificent bank buildings around the corner.) Still, a 20 foot, centuries-old studded and armored door is a powerful statement of protected space.
Amazingly, the 6 of us are doing well, and have had not one argument, unless you count a tense discussion over the use of a crank-o-vator to carry something up to the top of the palazzo. We all seem contend a lot for people who have never seen a machine like that before! Or ore commonly a flaming discussion of who pays- the competitive art of generosity runs amuck.
We leave you, and this place. I love these people, I’m telling you.
I find “the competitive art of generosity” running amuck in my fam, too! Thx for these delightful peeks into the spectacular and mundane!