Genoa 24

Now it's getting difficult for me, very emotional. Saying goodbye, inwardly, something I'm not good at. Why say goodbye? Well, I've been here too often now and I can't always go back to the same place. That's boring, there's so much more to discover in this world. So it's with a heavy heart that I have to say goodbye. At least temporarily, the area will still be there in 20 years' time, but maybe not me. That's why I'm writing it down here now and going back on this inner journey. I love Liguria, especially the area east of Genoa. Between the mountains and the sea with a very narrow coastal strip. I've been to the Genova Est campsite 6 or 7 times since 2015, sometimes just for a day, sometimes longer, sometimes alone, sometimes with my wife, sometimes with my bike and tent, sometimes by train and mobile home. I always had dinner and breakfast at the campsite's own restaurant Da Berto, always with this sea view of the Gulf of Genoa, whether in the morning or in the evening. Always those stairs up to the campsite, or the steep climb by bike, never once taking the shuttle bus. Whenever I stayed longer, there were day trips in the area. Mostly in the direction of Genoa. Something I always left for myself was the peninsula and the Portofino Nature Park on it. And what can I say, I saved the best for last. Back in 2015, when I arrived in Genoa really ready, on my bike, without a navigation system with just a car map and a camping guide for navigation, I had made the campsite my evening destination. It was late at the time and I didn't know when the campsite closed, so I was under time pressure. Genoa was my very first big Italian city by bike, during rush hour, and what can I say, it was phenomenal to get through the traffic. Swimming, always forwards to the red light, just like all the mopeds, passing the cars on the left and right, right up to the front. Green, then you were overtaken again until the next red light. Same game, it went on forever, always along the coast, in the distance there was always this one peninsula jutting out into the sea and I kept wondering whether I would be driving around it the next day. As I said, my navigation at that time was very poor, my plan was that I would always keep to the coast until Rome, thinking in my mind that it must all be flat. What a naive plan. What a stupidly naive plan that was soon demolished by reality with a sledgehammer. Swimming with the traffic continued into the suburbs and then finally the redemptive sign “Camping Genua Est” came up on the left. It was described in the camping guide that it went uphill again, but the last part was tough. When I reached the top, soaked with sweat, the campsite was still open (until 10pm), so I could have taken my time. I was allocated a campsite on a terrace and, as was customary for me at the time, I got myself a few beers in the restaurant, then sat in front of my tent or on the steps down to the sea and stared into the Gulf of Naples for the very first time at night, smoking my cigarettes with relish. What a day, what an experience, what a view, unforgettable for me. The next day I set off early and to my disappointment, it was a) not flat along the coast, on the contrary, it goes up and down quite a bit and b) definitely not along this peninsula. At that time, we went via Rapallo towards Levanto, another unforgettable day's stage, through an 8 km long, sparsely lit car tunnel carved into stone, only alternately used in one direction, closed to cyclists, with a minimum speed of 30 km/h. I still think it was the fastest 8 km I have ever cycled in my life, I was so scared of the oncoming traffic that I came out of the tunnel at the very last second before the oncoming traffic arrived. Unforgotten, unforgettable trip, back in 2015. Also unforgotten are the storms I experienced in Liguria, the worst I've ever been through, whether in a tent, on the road or in my mobile home.

Of course, I had already tried to explore this peninsula on my previous visits, at least the side on which San Rocco lies, but I never got far by bike as I always came up against steps at some point. I at least made it as far as Stella Maris on foot before one of the most violent thunderstorms I have ever witnessed forced me to turn back. A thunderstorm like that, coming in from the sea and hitting land, a tremendous spectacle. Anyway, this time I wanted to devote myself entirely to the peninsula, finally visit Porto Fino and this ominous San Fruttuoso that you can't reach by car. But I was still in Rome, I got up on time, had breakfast at the hotel, walked to Termini, sipped two more coffees and then went to the platform, I still had plenty of time according to the timetable, 30 minutes. I wondered a bit why my train wasn't on the display board yet, but trains that should have left 3 hours ago were and why so many people were standing around swearing. In the meantime, I kept getting emails from Tranitalia, which I deliberately ignored as advertising. But slowly it dawned on me, headphones off, listen to the announcements. In Italian, of course. So off I went into the overcrowded metro and to the pyramids to get to the right station. The fact that I then had to stand there on the platform for another 3 hours or so without an announcement or any further information, no problem. I complain a lot about Deutsche Bahn, but they are much better at crisis mode than the Italians and French, by the way. Must be the daily practice. So at some point I sat on a train with a few Australians in the compartment and the train left in good weather and arrived in Rapallo with a total delay of 5 hours in bad weather, where I was finally allowed to change trains and arrived at Bogliasco station a short time later. Up my beloved stairs to the campsite, checked in and moved into my mobile home and then to Da Berto for my first pizza/pasta/crème catalana (actually almost crème brûlée)/espresso menu and stared out at the Gulf of Naples at night.

The rain had not yet cleared the next morning, but I was prepared. I had my umbrella and rain jacket with me, only my shoes - I hadn't remembered that these fabric shoes aren't waterproof. Anyway, after a cappochino at Da Berto, I headed down the wet stairs to the station, only to find the same tourists waiting for the shuttle bus upstairs. They were all standing around lost in front of the ticket machine trying to buy a ticket. Stupid as I was, and because I wanted one myself, I started to help. For whatever reason I was so helpful, I could bite my ass. That's when the questions started. And what about the dog and the train? Smart-mouthed Germans who know the answer themselves, but then want to show you up in front of others. Once again, my quick thinking got me out of a jam, (I saw it on the screen out of the corner of my eye) everyone knows that dogs are to be treated like children under the age of 12. What a stupid question. So please. The next case was more difficult, a young man who didn't want to believe me that his train to Genoa was leaving on the other track. And then he didn't want to believe me that it would be better to take the underpass than to go directly over the road (over which the tracks run and through the station). The barriers were down, but the track opposite was easily accessible. 5 meters on foot. I pulled him by the sleeve and he was about to protest loudly when just at that moment the express train roared through. Well boy, that wasn't out of sympathy either, but simply because I wanted to get away from the station today. Idiot. Why do I keep interfering, I asked myself in frustration as I sat on the train. Not a single please or thank you, it goes without saying that people help you, it's just a strange time we live in. My anger was quickly dispelled when I arrived at S. Margherita Ligure Portofino station. Down to the beach and lo and behold, I didn't have to walk the coast road to Porto Fino but could take a ferry. The ferry wasn't going to San Fruttuoso today (probably too rough seas), so I bought a one-way ticket because I wanted to continue on foot to San Fruttuoso. That was the plan. There I was, waiting, and the boardwalk suddenly filled up when a group of Swiss pensioners, mostly older women, arrived. Zack and the previously cozy queue turned into a battlefield of jockeying for the best position on the boat. Unbearable. While we were waiting, I met an older couple from Wiesbaden who, like me, were put under pressure by the loud Swiss women. Again, they pushed, shoved and squeezed as a matter of course. At some point it got too much for me and I started stepping on toes, completely unintentionally of course, to make room for myself again. It always works, and even helped in Paris while queuing at the Olympics. In fact, there are still a couple who think they have to kick me with their elbows, so that's when I start talking to them, face to face, and then it's quiet. They don't seem to like something about me. Is it the swollen carotid artery or the fact that an elbow strike like that doesn't scratch me at all? Right, violence isn't great, no, I don't like it at all, there's only one thing that disgusts me more, and that's boundless selfishness. At some point you sit on this ferry and think that's it, but then they climb over you or fall on top of you because of the swell, just because they have to get up to take the best photo of their life. Paoh relaxation is different. When we arrived in Porto Fino, I stayed seated until the last of this group had disembarked, not wanting anything to happen to them if they walked along an unsecured jetty in front of me. That can end badly, I've already seen someone fall off the boat and hit the rocky bottom 5 meters below, MS Wissenschaft (2003) made it possible. At the time, I knew how to move around on board and did so nimbly, safely and maneuverably. The bow exit (also functioning as an emergency exit) to get water for the chemistry show. Through behind the stage, up the stairs and out of the opening, foot on the opposite railing, turn briefly and then the other foot down to the jetty, very easy. I did this 10 times a day for two weeks. My pilot release didn't expect the stairs to the bow of the ship to end more or less directly at the railing. I still feel sorry for him today, lying down there with a broken arm and looking at me in amazement. I didn't expect him to follow me so stormily and of course lose his balance. The face, the expression of disbelief as he fell. Nothing happens, bones heal, glory remains, afterwards the exit was better secured, so with handrail, stairs to descend safely and massive barrier. Tested by Ralph, implemented and installed by sailor and my friend Bruno, still in use today, 21 years later.

So there I was, standing in the harbor of Porto Fino next to luxury yachts and small fishing boats, still pretty pissed off from the day so far and not knowing exactly what to do, when I discovered a small castle (Castello Brown) on a hill to my left, not far from the harbor. Stairs seemed to lead up there. My mood improved on the way up, even the 5 euro entrance fee couldn't change that, and the panorama that presented itself to me. There was even coffee at the top, one of the worst (and most expensive) I've ever had in Italy. Yikes! But the view, wonderful! I explored the whole castle and its many rooms and balconies, you were even allowed to open the windows to take photos if you closed them afterwards (there was a multilingual sign at each opening). I was immediately in love with the whole scenery, the harbor below me, these mountains, the bay and the buildings. Simply beautiful. I had to go to the loo, there was a toilet and so I opened the door to it very carelessly and there was a woman sitting half-naked on the bowl, somehow she couldn't or hadn't locked it, I immediately closed this door again and apologized shamefacedly. Embarrassing. I stood in front of the door until I heard the flush, I didn't want this to happen again and I left immediately before the door opened. Nobody could have expected that, could they? On the way out, I bumped into the couple from Wiesbaden again, who had now also made it to the top, and I assured them that the view from the Opelbad was just as beautiful but not quite as good as what they were about to see. Baffled, I left them standing there and was already on my way towards Faro di Portofino, having abandoned my plan to fight my way to San Fruttuoso today. I wanted to see more of Porto Fino, also because I didn't know how stable the weather would remain. And what can I say, it was uniquely beautiful. The gardens and the path to the tip of this little peninsula, a dream, then to the Spiaggia dell'Olivetta, what a beautiful little bay and who lives in a property like this? I was all dreamy and had just the right romantic soundtrack for it with my choice of music (Nightwish and Simon Simone). I spent the whole day driving through this village and was totally lost, not even the rain that kept coming down bothered me much. I spent the whole day navigating through this village and was totally lost, not even the rain that kept coming down bothered me much. Towards the afternoon I took the ferry back (same game) and ended up back at the station, I had planned to capture the sunset in Bogliasco and was probably still very impressed by the day so far, so I wasn't quite paying attention and got on the express train to Genoa, which didn't stop in Bogliasco, so I got off in Nervi and was accordingly pissed off, the way back wouldn't be enough, so I decided to try it here. And what can I say, it was by far the best sunset photo session I've had this year. It was so impressive, this natural spectacle, with the thick dark clouds and the setting sun that emerged underneath and through them, this play of colors, the reflections, plus this panorama. It was unforgettable, indescribably beautiful and impressive. Everything done right. Back in Bogliasco and at Da Berto for pizza/pasta/cream/coffee, I was still totally enraptured. Then to bed, San Fruttuoso was still on the agenda for tomorrow.

The sun was actually shining the next morning as I sat in Da Berto with a cappuccino and stared at the gulf. This time I took the train to Camogli, then climbed the stairs to San Rocco, a route I already knew. A dark gray cat followed me the whole time and demanded my attention. The walk itself was more strenuous than I remembered, or was I just not as fit as I used to be? Anyway, I was soon at the top, only to be confronted by a sign in Italian which probably meant that the path I wanted to take to San Fruttuoso was closed and that it was better to try another route (pass). The crux of these detours in Italy is that the next sign would only appear at the next necessary point, and not at every turn-off as is usual in Germany. I was well aware of this, but after a drink of water from a public fountain and a few panoramic photos, I set off straight away up the stairs. Lots of stairs, lots and lots of stairs, wonderful. I passed a few groups and people on the way, but there were fewer and fewer human encounters the further I got into the nature reserve. At some point, I found myself on a narrow path and wasn't sure if I hadn't already lost my way. A slight feeling of panic made itself felt once again, especially because it was a steep drop to the left, it smelled of smoke, the path wasn't really paved and sloped slightly. I swallowed, should I make a phone call, I used to call my now ex-wife in such cases, I also knew from the past that as soon as I turned around and went back this feeling disappeared. Today, no, I had to go to San Fruttuoso, I couldn't skip it this time, I won't get past here that quickly? Oh, I'm big myself, I just kept going, what could happen and lo and behold, a few minutes later I was back at a junction, signposted, even with a drinking fountain and I continued on a very wide, well-surfaced path. Easy. Until I came to another junction, San Fruttuoso down to the left, with a sign in front of it showing a helicopter and saying that you shouldn't go any further. Confused, I looked around and saw another couple sitting on a bench some distance away. I asked them what was going on and they said that this related to construction work and that building materials were being brought here by helicopter, but that I could go through without hesitation. So far so good, I didn't meet the helicopter, but I did meet a lot of hikers coming from the direction of San Fruttuoso. For me it was a descent, for them it was an ascent, for everyone it was bad, the path is steep, partly in serpentines, partly laid out as steps, with lots of loose stones. The people who came towards me, some on all fours, didn't look happy, they had probably imagined it differently and me? Well, the descent was exhausting in a different way, at least with my loose cloth sneakers. At some point I passed a hut with a really beautiful view and olive trees. And then at some point, next to the waterfall and steep slopes, I reached the village. Beautiful! To my left and right, people were running towards the harbor, it must have been ferry departure time. I had a coffee, looked around, prepared myself for the walk back, went to the harbor, took photos of the beautiful blue beach, went to the ferry, bought a ticket and boarded it. One minute later, we set off. Whoever in me had made this decision, I immediately regretted it, because the swell was rough. There were actually people who thought they had to stand up and take photos, after two of them were thrown over deck (and it's all made of steel) the rest stayed seated. No more photos standing up. I went to Porto Fino, where I was able to take very nice photos of the tip of yesterday's Faro di Portofino from the sea, then continued on to yesterday's train station. I was back in Bogliasco so early that I was able to make the ascent to Santa Croce before dinner and take sunset photos from above and the Gulf of Genoa on the way down. Very nice, not quite as spectacular as yesterday but very beautiful and for me a well-rounded end to this visit. It took me a total of 3 attempts to get up to Santa Croce before I successfully completed it once, my panic attacks kept stopping me. No problem today, not even in the dark, familiar paths and all. Then dinner at Da Berto, certainly pizza/pasta/cream/coffee and off to bed.

On last time, the next morning, cappuccino with a view of the Gulf of Genoa, wistful then, wistful every time and wistful again just now as I write these lines. Wonderful weather, down the stairs for the last time in distant Genoa or the peninsula, to the train station and goodbye. Arrivederci!

That's it for this year, let's see what 25 has in store, the things I have planned are spectacular (for me), I hope they turn out that way. If not, no problem, I'll stay here in Essen with a permanent position in cancer research. With this in mind.

P.S.: Then I took the train to Milan, met my good friend Marco there, slept at his place, visited an art exhibition beforehand and of course went out to eat (you can do that well in Milan), took the train back the next day and it was over.