Genova

Sandro spends his summers in the woods of Bardellone and his winters in the city of Genova. Lucia, Sandro, and I made the 3-hour journey by car from Levanto to Genova yesterday because both Lucia and Sandro have apartments here. I suspect that this trip might only take 1-2 hours if there isn't any traffic. We were in stop-and-go traffic for a little over an hour. During the second half our sporadic progress through the Ligurian mountains, I thought of another man in my life that I could be driving with. I was glad that he (and I) did not have to experience the traffic jam together. It probably would have been unpleasant: especially when we were stuck in the f*cking miles and miles of tunnels through the mountains behind a petroleum-spewing truck. Yum.

Genova is an ancient city by the sea. It is complete with ancient Roman acqueducts, a beautiful cathedral, and a great view of the city from it's major port. Last night, Sandro, Stefano (Sandro's old friend, my new friend), and I walked around Genova and, after a wild and wacky dance party, walked along the port. I had fun and continued to to try to make sense to my new friends in italian. Even though my grammar is usually wrong and my vocabulary is still small, I think it is easier for them to understand more complex thoughts of mine in italian. Sometimes I find myself trying to explain things in english (after mostly failing in italian) because I think it will make more sense to them. This is not logical.

The sky has been threatening rain all day and I spent the morning in Sandro's apartment. Because it hasn't started to rain yet, I am beginning to believe that it won't rain today. This could be good for Maggie. Maybe I will go back to Sandro's apartment, grab my guitar, and make some cash-money-bills on the streets of Genova. Both Sandro and Lucia think this is a good idea. Sandro had another american WWOOFer stay with him a couple of years ago who successfully made some money playing guitar in one of the many plazas here. Awww yeah.

I think we will return to Bardellone tomorrow to feed Sheila. She has been all alone in Bardellone since we left. Although she is independent, she is still young I am sure she has missed us. Poor Sheila.

Sheila is a cat.

Well, I must be off to learn and sing and speak italian. I know that I've said something with the correct accent when a stranger does not answer me in english. Maybe I'll go order a coffee and see what kind of response I get. "Vorrei un caffe, per favore? Grazie."

Abbraci é baci