Genoa: Port Of Call

Long transcontinental flights with multiple connections are not really my idea of a good time. Yours neither, I assume. The antihero in J.K. Huysmans' A Rebours -- the malevolent and decrepit aristocrat Duc des Esseintes -- is faced with a long-anticipated journey by train from Paris to London when he is overcome with anxiety.

As the train approaches, he imagines how burdensome it would be to actually make the journey -- how he would have to run to the station, fight for a porter, endure cranky patrons and an unfamiliar bed, stand in lines and feel cold (or hot). Well, we've all been in that spot, right? At least des Esseintes didn’t have to deal with the TSA.

In moments like that, it’s kind of hard to see the compelling prize that awaits at the end of the journey. Delightful anticipation of a long-awaited holiday can dramatically shift into heart-pounding apprehension, misgivings and paranoia. As Steve Miller would opine in "Jet Airliner," “you gotta go through hell before you get to heaven.”

So with great stoicism, we left Portland and arrived at the Cristoforo Colombo International Airport, via Vancouver, B.C. and Munich, Germany, about 18 hours later. Much like in San Francisco/Oakland, the airport is built on an artificial peninsula next to water -- in this case, the Mediterranean -- and resides next to the Port of Genoa.

An important Roman port, Genoa was founded in the 4th century B.C. During the Age of Discovery (15th-18th centuries), the city was a primary departure point for ships sailing to the New World. More recently, Genoa was a portal for Italian immigrants seeking a new life in the Western Hemisphere, primarily the U.S. and Argentina.

Leaving the airport by cab, I imagined all the Italian immigrants, including my family, and how excited and petrified they must have been to embark on a journey that -- to them -- must have felt like going to the moon. We arrived at the Hotel Columbo at dinnertime, as luck would have it, and adjourned to the nearest trattoria.

The next day, we explained our failed attempt to find Orero in 2013 to our hotelier, Libero, and asked if he still had a connection with Andrea, the cab driver from our previous trip. Indeed he did, so he called to set up an appointment for another trip to the hinterlands of Liguria in search of family. We settled on Monday, July 13.

Meanwhile, since it was only Wednesday, Gina and I would content ourselves with exploring Genoa’s Old Town, including the Piazza Ferrari (below), with many fine restaurants nearby, and plan our strategy to tour the entire Italian Riviera -- from the French border on the west to Tuscany on the east. Benissimo!