Get On The Blandwagon!: Privilege

I woke around 4.30am local time, which seemed reasonable given the time difference between Milan and Perth. I dozed for a bit, half-listening to a podcast, until around 6.30am, then read the news on my phone for an hour before deciding it was a reasonable hour to rise and face the world.

After showering and dressing, I walked over to Centrale to buy a ticket for a train down to Genoa… and it’s a good thing I did it early, as the next train was sold out and the train after that only had one seat left in the “family” car (ie, the car sacrificed to accommodate screaming Italian children and their PTSD-suffering parents). I opted for the next train after those, leaving around 1pm, which was more expensive but less crowded.

With that dealt with, I needed some breakfast, so I left the station and wandered, basically lost, until I found a tiny cafe called Senzanome with an outdoor seating area on a quiet street. The owners spoke just enough English to work out why I was there, and I speak just enough Italian to order a cappuccino and a marmaletto corneto, or marmalade croissant.

It all seemed serviceable, if a little mediocre. Then I bit into the cornetto, and was instantly reminded of why I love Italy. It was buttery, soft, almost pillowy, and neither stale not shattering into flakes with each bite. I was, simply, pastry perfection.

Italians are proponents of taking one’s time, whether it be for breakfast, aperitivo, or processing a building application. I eat my corneto and drink my cappuccino, and my immediate thought is; am I still hungry? Thirsty? Do I want another coffee? If so what kind? But the Italian paradigm forces you to take it slow and leave rushing and consuming to those dreadful Americans. Getting another coffee will happen in due course, if it needs to. And if it doesn’t… cosi e la vita. Don’t seek more for the sake of more; enjoy the perfection of what you have.

After breakfast I hung out in my hotel room until it was time to check out, then dragged by bags over to the train station and boarded the Frecciabianca to Genoa.

Soon we were hurtling through the sunny Italian countryside. I was listening to my Strong Cheese playlist (specifically ‘You Make Me Feel Like Dancing’ by Leo Sayer), and out of the window I noticed a small raptor of some kind hovering on an updraft over the blossom-covered trees. And suddenly, a feeling of peace and gratitude welled up inside me. I get to do this! I get to be borne around Italy on a beautiful day, in a smooth, comfortable high-speed train, listening to retro disco hits relayed from my iPhone to my wireless noise-cancelling headphones, looking forward to arriving in Genoa prior to my cruise around the Mediterranean. What would my ancestors have thought of this? They had to fight in wars, emigrate across seas never to see their families again, and as recently as my father, tame virgin wildernesses to build farms and livelihoods. Me, I have to trundle between gorgeous Italian cities, taking photos of Lego for my Instagram.

So… I win!

I found my Genoan hotel easily enough – it’s directly opposite the train station – and was given a bright, simple room with a view over the rooftops to a nearby church, or church-analogous building.

Once I settled in, I went out to explore the city. It’s larger than I remembered, but with even more odd, charming, time-worn alleys and piazzas. It has a certain quirky chaos to its architectural style, with different eras from medieval to art nouveau jumbled together.

And as it’s a maritime city, it wasn’t surprising to see that the sculpture in the Lego store was ocean-themed, more or less.

As the sun started to set my thoughts turned, as they do, to aperitivo. Instead of leaving it to chance, I googled “best aperitivo in Genoa” and scrolled through the list until I found a place which had great reviews for its cocktails.

I walked there, got a table in the piazza, and ordered their take on a Paloma. It arrived with a tiny bowl of taralli… and then nothing. It turns out that Genoa has rejected the bar snack arms race that has taken over other cities such as Milan and La Spezia. If you want delicious little goodies while you have your cocktail, you have to pay extra for it.