It is (still) Tuesday 28 August and we are in Genoa.Leaving the medieval gate and the birthplace of Christopher Columbus, we headed down the hill and entered the dark a slightly seedy alleyways of Genoa.
Some of them are well lit and filled with shops and neon light. Some are alleys in the truer sense of the word, dark, with six-storey buildings on either side and concealed doorways and smoking men looking at you suspiciously.
A chap walking alone in front of us was accosted by a prostitute. He wave her away irritably. She didn't take offence.
I even found a guitar shop in one of the alleys, although I thought perhaps I might have problems getting it on the flight home - or at least off the flight in undamaged state!
We were looking for a tobacconist as Fran had some cards to post. I haven't a clue what "stamps" is in Italian and when we found a tobacconist went in a bit warily.
The tobacconist tutted (in Italian) and said in perfect English; "Post Office - next door..." Ah...! Well it was yellow, for Heaven's Sake! Red! That's the colour of post offices!
We have a stop at Genoa's Aquarium to make before we return to the ship, but when we got back onboard we spoke to one couple who said "We were walking through some alleys and ran into some Carabinerie police. They said it was too dangerous for tourists and escorted us back to the waterfront!"
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