"Home" Alone

Me with Porto Antico and the city in the background

Sailboats in the harbor

Genova - water and mountainside


The view from the hostel my first night

The view the following morning

The old city gates and walls up in the mountainside

The Neptune Ship

Me on the Neptune (its a sad batch of pictures when you travel alone)

Porto Sint Andrea (Old City Gate)

Christopher Columbus' house and the city gates in the background

View of the city at sunset from the top of the Porto Sint Andrea

Sunset over Genova

Me with the hostel's view

Castello Sforzeca (Milan)

Me and the Duomo in Milan

Vittorio Emmanuel Gallery

The Duomo at Christmas time

The Duomo at Night

I Navigli (The old Canal and Antique Market)

The Antique Market

“He declared it such that none of those he had ever seen could equal it. And he seeks to excuse himself, saying that he has so greatly praised the others, that he no longer knows how to praise this one, and that he fears being accused of exaggerating everything beyond measure. But he defends his praises” (pg. 24, Conquests of America, Todorov).

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Christopher Columbus wrote copious notes and journal entries throughout the duration of his voyage to America – and even more upon its discovery (that is if he really discovered it and it wasn’t found by the Chinese in 1421 – see 1421). In his entries, Columbus often wrote with intimate details about what he was seeing, uncovering, and feeling. He wrote great superlatives describing each new forest, or island, or tribe.

However, he also realized how unconvincing great superlatives might be in describing his discoveries, and how others would doubt them: “He declared it such that none of those he had ever seen could equal it. And he seeks to excuse himself, saying that he has so greatly praised the others, that he no longer knows hoew to praise this one, and that he fears being accused of exaggerating everything beyond measure. But he defends his praises” (pg. 24, Conquests of America, Todorov).

I suppose in the long run, my discoveries and travels here in Europe over the course of the year will fall short of Columbus’ – though not by much. However, it appears that Columbus and I, besides both tracing our lineage back to the Italian port city of Genova, also have one other thing in common – a fear that our descriptions will not be taken seriously because everything we describe seems so majestic that we don’t know any other way to describe it. And I, as he did, still defend my descriptions to be as accurate as I could have made them. So with that in mind, I’d like to tell you my next tale.

I had come up with the idea for that Columbus quote a while ago and have been waiting to use it, trying to decide on the perfect opportunity. I figure what more appropriate to use it than now, as I begin to describe for you my solo trip to the land of Columbus – Genova.

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As I left the house, it was still too early in the morning for the sun to shine its beautiful face. The darkness, worsened by the cold rain, impeded my vision as I rode to the train station. And as I locked my bike in Zone 34 in the underground bike parking garage, my adventure to the homeland had officially begun. I was traveling alone this trip, however, I was determined not to let that get in the way of my discoveries.

The shoddy weather at the start of my trip was in large contrast to the beautiful sunshine that greeted me as I got off my Ryanair flight at the Milan Beragamo Airport. I had slept for most of the flight but woke up in time to the see our transition into Italy – signified by the tips of the Alps jutting through the clouds as we passed over. Seeing the Alps from the sky is perhaps one of the most important visuals for anyone traveling through Europe to see.

After taking a bus into Milan from the airport, I completed my trip of trains, planes, and automobiles, with a train ride out to the coastal city of Genova – my home coming. Though my lineage actually traces its roots back to the small village of Bertone (which I discovered over my background checking for this trip is a small 20 villa village that doesn’t even lie in the same region as Genova and was thus unattainable for my travel purposes), Genova is where I most commonly refer to my family as being from. So to travel to see the city that my ancestors passed through over a hundred years ago in route to the United States, was very special for me.

For most of the train ride out to Genova I did some reading, however, I was often distracted by the beautiful landscapes that filled the window of the train car. As we popped in and out of long tunnels, I would catch a glimpse or two of magnificently colored Italian country homes, built in the valley in between, or sometimes right into, the green mountain sides. Genova sits on the backside of the Alps facing the coast. So for the train to get there, it first had to dive into deep tunnels, some lasting 10 minutes that caused my ears to pop. One of the highlights of my ride out was when an older Italian man and I had a conversation in Italian about my trip. It didn’t last very long, and I think he was offended when I asked him if he spoke English (I couldn’t pick up much of his muttering, but something about how he spoke French, German, Spanish, Italian, but all the youth want to learn is English). He eventually grew weary of my poor Italian and fell asleep.

Despite the fact that I left at 7 am from Leuven, I didn’t arrive in Genova till about 5 pm. As I shuffled out of the train station, I noticed the sun going down and quickly darted up a hill to try and catch a glimpse of it. Though I missed the actual sunset, the sky was still coated in reds, yellows, and blues – beautiful welcoming for me.

After the sunset, I spent my first night in Genova just wandering the city. Though I had purchased a map, I preferred instead to follow the aura of the Christmas lit streets (Europe really is more beautiful in Christmas lights). There is something more relaxing about just wandering though a city with no goal in mind and just coming across landmarks. That first night, without any intentions, I managed to see a majority of the main tourist sites and scout out my approach for the following day. I saw the black and white checkered St. Lawrence Cathedral, the Porto Antico, Christopher Columbus’ house, and the Old City Wall Towers.

When I had finished with my walking and was at the point of exhaustion, I started my search for the hostel. I knew based on my research that it wasn’t that close to the downtown area, however, what I didn’t realize was how high it was. As the bus zigged and zagged its way up the mountainside, I began to get nervous, fearing that I would miss my stop. When I arrived at the youth hostel the bus driver, seeing as how I was wearing a stuffed backpack and was the only one on the bus, pointed it out to me, saying “l’ostella.”

One of the benefits of my winding ride into the hillside (rhyme intended) was the view. The view of the city from above was spectacular. The harbor appeared to be a village of stationary fire flies, glowing in the darkness of the hills and ocean that surrounded it. From the hostel I could see for miles, and had a birds’ eye view of the entire city – something I appreciated just as much the following morning.

Friday morning I was up early to see the city in its entirety. I first climbed upward from the mountain perched hostel to what remained of the Forte Castellaccio and the old city walls. Genova was engulfed in ancient city walls which date back to the 11th century. The only break in walls were forts surrounding gates. From the valley looking up, the castles and forts, perched at the tips of several mountains, looked something like the Lord of the Rings Beacons from the Return of the King movie. After seeing the ancient wall, and wandering through some significantly creepy woods, I decided it was best to head down to the city.

I spent the morning touring the Neptune boat – which sits floating in the harbor – and the Aquarium which is the largest in all of Europe. The Aquarium that I visited, was part of a multi-complex “Aquarium Village” which I didn’t feel like paying for nor did I have the time to visit entirely, so I just saw the aquarium. From the aquarium, I traveled over to the Porto Antico, which was the Old Port from Genova’s industrial age. The two more significant monuments of the old port are the Bigo (a modern architecture model of the old cranes that used to lift loads off of barges and now plays host to an ice skating ring in the winter and concerts in the summer) and the Bolla (a spherical shaped glass botanical garden).

After I finished my walk through the Antico, I grabbed some gelato and for the first time since I left for Italy sat to relax on a park bench. I looked up through the sailboat masts, past the crystal blue water toward the red, pink, and orange houses that dotted the mountainside. It was then that I was struck by the simple beauty of the city. For the first time it hit me that what I was seeing now was probably similar to the last thing my relatives saw as they set sail for America, their last view was that countryside, the last view of their home – that house adorned mountain. It was a very moving experience to think about leaving a home you could never return to – especially as my own individual homesickness had sunk in as my trip home for Christmas break was on my mind.

From the water front, I again headed over to Columbus’ House to see it during the daytime. I knew that it had random hours of operation, and I was lucky enough to find it on a day when it was open. The man at the desk was very enthusiastic to either 1) speak English or 2) profess his knowledge on the history of the Columbus house. Either way, because he didn’t have much to do, seeing as how I was the only visitor, he decided to give me a personal tour of the house (I finally realized why Italians are built so small – because their houses are so small). Columbus’ family had been wool merchants for generations. Despite the small house, which 9 family members occupied, the Columbus family was middle class. In addition, they did not condone Christopher’s desire to sail the seas.

Once my tour of Columbus’ house concluded, I headed over to the old city gate – the Porta Sint Andrea – where I dashed up the steps to catch the sunrise. I ran up and down both towers to catch the view from each peak. The view from the top of the towers was gorgeous and the yellowing rays of the sunset slowly faded to orange and blue as the sun slowly set behind the seas – of all my moments on my trip into Italy, that was by far my most peaceful, just me and sunset.

After the sun had bid me adieu, I headed out of the towers. Following one of the main roads, I found myself back at the waterfront where I may or may not have bought some of you Christmas gifts. I also enjoyed some Trafie Pesto – a homemade pasta dish covered in pesto – what Genova is most famous for. Afterward, I headed back to the hostel, where I enjoyed a good conversation about traveling Europe with two Englishmen – happy that I could actually be understood as I spoke.

I awoke the next morning around 10 and prepared to leave Genova, hoping to catch a train around noon back to Milan. As I strolled out of the hostel, I couldn’t help but take one last peak out from the vantage point the hostel provided – the colorful houses, the harbor below, and the sea beyond that. Before I boarded my train in the train station, I took one last look out at the city which I trace my roots to. Then I, like my relatives before, left Genova unsure if I’d ever return.

When I got to Milan, I decided to foot tour the city that day. I walked from the train station to the historical center – not a light walk. Milan is a city for shoppers (of which I’m not) and in the frenzy of the Christmas season, it felt like that old show on Nickelodeon (the name escapes me) where contestants would run around like mad men throwing things into shopping carts and racing to the finish line.

Most of the city was donned in Christmas trees and Christmas lights, and as I strolled to the center of town, I realized had never before seen the phenomenon of grown adults waiting outside shops before, like the line for Space Mountain in Disney world (yes I’m aware that’s a Nickelodeon and Disney reference in just as many sentences). The stores – Dolce Gobana, Giorgio Armani, Tiffany, Prada – were decorated for Christmas but still displaying the latest fashion, shoes, and questionable undergarment choices. I don’t think I appreciated Milan as much as Genova, Milan was a very beautiful city to visit, but not necessarily if you’re only looking to walk through – like I said, it’s a shopper’s city.

Over my two days there, I spent most of my time in the downtown Cathedral area. The tips of the Gothic spires thrust toward the sky to form the jagged skyline in the heart of the city. Milan’s Cathedral is second only to the Vatican in size and is a gorgeous gothic church. In the area around the Cathedral, I also sought out the Gallery of Vittorio Emanuele (a large open air but roof enclosed mall) and the Teatro Alla Scala (Milan’s famous opera house). Wandering for a bit I eventually grabbed an overpriced tourist dinner and headed back to my hostel.

My hostel, Misterbeem hostel, was one of my worst travel experiences, but I assume one of those character building, lesson learning travel experiences. It was basically a guys apartment with beds in the back room. Here’s a key for all you potential travelers out there, just because the price is low, doesn’t mean you’re getting the best bang for your buck. I spent the night listening to the scraping of something being moved on the floor above me (till about 4 in the morning) and the Indian owner listen to native music in the living room.

With my worst night of sleep in the history of my travels, I was ready to leave the hostel early the next morning. I first headed down to the Castello Sforzesco, a 12th century castle that was at one point built right into the old city walls. From there I headed over to the Santa Maria Delle Grazie where I paid to see an exhibit on display of the original writings of Leonardo Da Vinci. The exhibit was awesome and some of the ideas ingenious especially for the time period. I also tried to view the original copy of the Last Supper; however, tickets were sold out the morning I was there.

Though most of Milan is modeled after being a yuppie city, and as a result is very Americanized (there are McDonalds signs all over the city – more than I think in the average American city), one of my fondest memories of my trip was when I took a metro down to Navigli (an artificial canal that was once a main source of commerce in the area) which hosts an antique market right on the Canal on Sundays. I determined that was by far as Italian as Milan gets. The smell of fresh bread, pizza, and pasta lofted through the air as I took my time walking through the markets. I listened as the Italian natives debated amongst themselves over prices, haggling down to the last Euro. After I grabbed a hot Panini from a local shop (one of my best food purchases) I headed back to the metro and to the Duomo.

I spent my last few hours wandering around the Duomo or sitting inside it just thinking and admiring its beauty. Then I threw a model of the Duomo at Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi.* Finally, I headed back up to the train station, where I caught my shuttle back to the airport. Despite the fact that I left and landed in Leuven that day, I arrived too late to catch the last train home. As a result, me and the Charleroi airport became a little more friendly that night, as I slept on her floor.

Finally the next morning, after commuting 3 hours from Charleroi back to Leuven, I had completed my trip back to my homeland. With the knowledge that I had experience the same city as my heritage, and see some the sights they admired when leaving, I laid my head down on my pillow and passed out from travel exhaustion.

*For all extent and legal purposes, I didn’t actually throw the Duomo at Berlusconi, but I thought it would add an interesting twist to my story. But you should Google it because it’s an interesting story.