Genoa: Between the Crusades and the deep blue sea

If a city has a harbour, that is usually its cradle, the place of its beginnings, in the throes of docks, sailors, and the hubbub of shipping, trade and seafood. However, over the course of time, the city usually starts to spread far away from its port, deeper inside, and the various suburbs pop up, which bear no resemblance to the abovementioned harbour mess.

Well, not in the case of Genoa, because there is actually no space for that, the city growth is blocked sharply by the steep vertical rock that thwarts the spread. So, Genoa is a harbour on the Ligurian Sea, one of the busiest in Europe, and there is nowhere to go to escape that. Sure, there are tiny, narrow streets called Caruggi, radiating away from the sea, but they are still so close to the water edge that you can smell the salt and hear the screeching of the seagulls. Wherever you decide to take a stroll, you will inevitably end up back at the harbour, Porto Vecchio, among the street vendors, palms and the boats.

That, of course, would not be a problem if the port in question was a typical Mediterranean pearl, with yachts, picturesque restaurants and with striped sun umbrellas, inviting beaches and an endless blue mirror of the water. Here, the first thing that you notice upon entering the city are the monstrous cruisers/skyscrapers, and even if you manage to unsee them, the line of the horizon is difficult to observe because the skyline is marred by the crane hooks lifting the metal containers onto the freight ships. The blue-collar origin of the city is visible in every inch of its surface, there is hard work, dirt and grit here. After all, the city has been a maritime power ever since the 10th century. Tourism is welcome as an easy influx of money, but if the city does not depend on it as its main economic branch, you notice it straight away. There is a certain roughness, and careless abandon in terms of cleanliness, safety, and staged beauty. Genoa, if it could speak would probably say to the tourists: "Vaffanculo!"

We came primarily to see the Aquarium of Genoa, a worldwide famous dwelling of all creatures of the sea and an inevitable stop if you are a child. It takes 2 to 3 hours to see it all, half of the building is inside a repurposed ship, and you really do feel swept away into the marine depths. It is as if Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea came to life. Octopuses, sea stars, tiger sharks, sting rays, corals, and tropical rainbow fish galore. Fun not only for the little ones but for parents as well. My personal favorites were the jellyfish, whose mesmerizing elegant movements resembled ballet dancing. I could have stayed there, hypnotized, to watch them forever.

Then we tried to see the city and to understand its nature better. I feel that Genoa cannot be grasped properly without its historical context, which left such a strong, long-lasting imprint on its modern life. A transit point for so many immigrants, refugees, travellers, and adventurers, the city is extremely cosmopolitan, colourful, with an abundance of languages spoken, and the tribal colours worn. The North of Africa effortlessly mixes with the Middle East here, and the feeling is as if you are not in Europe at all. There is music in the streets, from the medieval harp artfully played by a street minstrel next to the cathedral to the opera booming from its imposing building, to the whiff of African drums in a cul-de-sac. You start to realize why so many important Italian songwriters originated from Genoa, it feels organic that political, involved, rebellious music grows here.

The next thing that strikes you about Genoa is the abundance and splendour of its churches. They are in such stark proliferation here, and it is difficult to distinguish the most important one, they are all gilded, over-the-top decorated, dizzyingly rich, and magnificent. Every single one deserves to be called a Duomo. Genoa, with its ships, riches, navigation savvy, and trade interests, played a role in the Crusades, supplying the crusaders with provisions, but also fighting, looting, "liberating" the Holy Land, and helping itself profusely to the riches, relics and wealth of the East. An excellent account of the horror of the Crusades can be found in Amin Maalouf's The Crusades Through Arab Eyes. Not a beach read, but a worthy one nevertheless.

It is an assumption leap on my side, but I suspect that Genoa ships came back home, laden with gold, saintly bones, but also with loads of guilty conscience.  And the best way to remedy that was always to build a temple to appease God. Genovesi apparently had a lot to atone for. The interesting, saving grace of this trying too much in the eyes of God, is that modern citizens live their lives with nonchalance and without apparent awe for these sacral structures. The colossal churches are completely integrated into their mundane, profane affairs. Thus, it is not unusual to encounter a church whose entry is blocked by the tables and chairs of a bar, or that the ground floor of a church is transformed into shops. Blasphemous, secular, and oh so refreshing.

The riches that flowed through the city by various routes have left their mark on the outstanding beauty and opulence of the palaces of Genoa. Via Garibaldi is a UNESCO Heritage Site and a location where the most gorgeous, luxurious, and decorative palaces stand. They are not all open to visits, but even the facades alone give you a very good hint of the balls, affairs, ostentatious living, and plotting that used to happen there in the past. In the state of decadent decay now, the palaces may be peeling and leaving room for improvement, but they are still imposing and breathtaking. Their grand staircases, intricately carved balconies, and garden terraces made me sigh. The artists who achieved this knew what they were doing.  

Genoa is a complex city, with a tumultuous history and a chaotic present. I believe that life here is far from easy and that the citizens have seen lots of hardships, hard, honest work, and economic turmoil. It seems that keeping it clean and presentable is a mission impossible, but at the same time, it has other things to offer. Nostalgia, or perhaps more of a reminder of the past and of its errors. The art and splendours of its churches and buildings. The impressive seafaring and shipping mastery. The mixture of languages, ethnicities, and colours.

Genoa is a hint that fortunes are fickle and changeable, that we are all just passing and travelling through life and this world, and that we must be brave, adventurous, and daring to not stay put, but to sail forth into the unknown. I may not visit this city again, but I respect its complexity, as well as the bravery, tenacity, and hard work of its people. It is easy to believe that Genovesi are proud of their home and would and could not live anywhere else.