I was drowning in the winter grey of Belgium, missing my great big Genovese walks round the city, missing the exquisite espresso that Simona and Marta make, the focaccia from Panificio Patrone in via Ravecca, and missing the pleasure of finding just the right food supplies, in amongst all that is delicious, at Francesca and Norma’s shop.
In January I wrote: 11am, and I have walked around the old city, bought my pale pink flowers, eaten focaccia, had espresso. I have talked with people. This place feels like the closest to home I have been while, as I have wandered outside of New Zealand these last 9 years.
The sky is a deep deep blue, the air is mild – unlike the freezing cold in Milano as I arrived yesterday, unlike the grey I left behind in Belgium. People are out on the streets and, as always, they are talking to each other and greeting strangers. Did I tell you how much I love this city?
I felt so very strong, walking the hills in a way that delights me. It’s my first time on hills since I was here last, back in November 2011. The flatlands of Belgium feel so different to this Italian city bounded by mountains and sea.
No photographs today, just this one from summer 2011 (yes, I was in Genova then too) … Today my hands were full of focaccia and pink flowers. And my soul was singing too loudly to concentrate on pulling my camera out.
And yes, it is always this good to return.