WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28
A new development! An agency in Milan called Boom is interested in talking to Chloe. A breakthrough, perhaps. But still waiting for word from Next…nothing yet.
The entire morning was spent trying to download Skype so Chloe could talk to the folks at Boom. The Airbnb is lovely, but the internet sucks. She’d have to skype the next day after we found a place with internet.
GALATA MUSEO DEL MARE, THE LARGEST IN THE MEDITERRANEAN!
We headed to the port and the museum there. The Galata Museo del Mare is the largest maritime museum in the Mediterranean, a stunning, glass contemporary building that encases the Palazzo Galata. Inside is a submarine, boats of all sorts, an immigration museum and lots of history. The palace’s large stone steps have been walked by so many people over the last 900 years that they are worn down in the middle.
The museum opened in 2004, the year Genoa was named the European Capital of Culture. Visiting the museum was a great way to learn Genovese history, beginning with the creation of the port as a center of trade in the 1100s, through wars and shifting alliances. Genoa was founded in the 6th century, and gained its independence after the fall of the Roman empire. That independence lasted until 1797 when Napoleon’s armies arrived. The port was nearly destroyed during WWII, then rebuilt. Today it is the largest Italian port for both passengers and cargo.
Genoa experienced many invasions, and in response, the clever Genovese excelled at developing and engineering military equipment. The galley ship, designed for battle, came from Genoa. The canon was perfected here. Steel cannonballs manufactured, as well as armoured suits and more. Other features: Genoa traded in silver, grain, spices and olive oil and its the home of Christopher Columbus, though his money came from Spain and he sailed from Lisbon.
INSIDE A GALLEY SHIP
Like most exhibits in the museum, the old galley ship was interactive. We sat on a bench where slaves, convicts and volunteers rowed and then visited the bowels of the ship where they slept. Slaves were known to endure a miserable life on galley ships instead of killing themselves, the alternative, because as a reward they were given a grave. If they killed themselves, or if they were slaves on land, they didn’t get a burial.
The former palace rooms were filled with fantastically detailed paintings of the port and battles. Feminine sea monsters, a metaphor for the fear and fascination that accompanied seafaring, were vividly imagined in many drawings.
The top floor houses an interactive immigration exhibit. We walked through the process of emigrating as Italians would have beginning in the 1860s, getting papers and tickets along the way.
DOWN TO THE SUNNY PORT
The sun was shining and we went outside to meet it. Another beautiful, perfectly clear day. We grabbed Paninis and sat on the pier.
There weren’t many people on the pier, mostly African men, likely emigrants from recent years. Nearly 8,000,000 people immigrated to Italy in 2015 alone. Many emigrants seem to be outsiders, not welcomed into the mainstream economy, but instead forced into an underground economy of drugs and prostitution in order to survive. We saw a few prostitutes in a narrow street in the old town. An Italian friend who lives in Vancouver told us that some Italians don’t like Genoa because they think the docks are dirty and there are too many drugs. I couldn’t help but recognize the racism of such beliefs.
After lunch, we walked along the long pier, past Neptune, a replica of a 1600s galleys ship, and the aquarium to Porto Antico, which has a shopping center and restaurants and where a ferris wheel is located. We had to do that!
CHURCHES, PARKS AND VISTAS TO SEE
Turning up via S. Lorenzo, we again arrived at Chiesa San Lorenzo. It was first constructed in the 1100s, partially destroyed, rebuilt during the Renaissance and then continuously added onto. Quite a hodgepodge.
Though we knew it was closed, we headed toward the Contemporary Art Museum to see another part of the city. Down Galleria Colombo, up via Fieschi to a narrow street of stairs, out we emerged atop a walled hill, looking down on an entire portion of the city, an expanse of closely-knit buildings all old, many tall, but no taller than the perch where we found ourselves. The buildings spread below us to the hills in the distance.
The pathway at the top of the stone wall curved along the edge of the buildings, roof tops just below. We turned onto the street beside the Ospedela Galleria, a hospital in a former palace. The buildings on the streets were beautifully maintained; we’d found a wealthy neighborhood. Hilly, steep parks fell down to the buildings below and above us. The view of the ocean was spectacular; the sun beginning to set– hazy blue and soft pink.
As dark descended, we passed the park called Villa Croce, home to the Contemporary Art Museum, and made our way to the top of another hill that ends at the Chiesa S. Stefano, where children had been playing the evening before.
As we came down the hill, we stopped at another church, this one emptied of pews and alters, only the shell remaining. It was being used as an exhibition space, and we saw a large show on urban planning and design.
EXTINGUISHED LIGHTS
Nearly back to the Airbnb, Chloe noticed the door was open to yet another church, this one with a white marble exterior. Inside, the lights were low or off, the church was closing soon and only the church’s keeper was inside. He was blowing out candles. Every inch of the huge interior was painted, with lots of gold. Quite an experience to be in the dim lighting, and see how paintings claim luminosity without electricity, as it was when the churches were first built. We walked the length of the church as the last candles were extinguished, the gold put to sleep.
By the day’s end, we were relaxed and laughing again. Laughing so hard we cried.
