Genova

Originally we were headed for Italy's circus string of multicolored houses on the coast known as Cinque Terra, but ended up making an intermediary stop in the Italy's pesto capital, Genoa. We got in late, hungry as usual, and had trouble finding our way to the second story apartment/bed and breakfast. I crashed once we battled the language barrier and paid, drifting away thinking about the odd library in our room consisting of three English books: Trainspotting, Stephen King's Misery, and Confessions of a Shopaholic.

Breakfast was held in a small kitchen, and when we walked in we found a stone-eyed German with a very angular face, sitting with his pink haired bulldog wife. Both were around 50 years old, and very intimidating. We ate fast, and excused ourselves, slipping uncomfortably from the man's stare.

Looking back Genoa seemed like a mini Rome. Not as many tourists, street vendors, or curious odors, but enough to earn a place in its description. We drifted around town nearly all day, taking time to eat some authentic spaghetti, taking silly pictures of McDonalds signs, and overall making the tourist community proud. There was also a fantastic pirate ship in the harbor, complete with a giant bust of Poseidon in the bow (with mega abs).