Let’s face it. We went to Genoa for two reasons: Salami and Pesto alla Genovese.
It’s a large, port city and we were centrally located. 
Our hotel was in a commercial building and occupied the fifth floor.
The ascensure (elevator)reminded me of the one in Fatal Attraction. Now, now. Didn’t happen.
View of the ceiling of our bedroom and view of the laundry from our living room window.
Picture of St. Anne at St. Rita's Church.
Our first meal was great. I had pesto but with a strachette noodle which resembles about ½ of a ravioli. Enjoyable but I like my pesto better. Keep in mind my mother has said on many occasions, “Rod (she calls me that – no one else is allowed to), no one enjoys your food like you do.” That is definitely not a compliment. She’s actually, as they say, dissing me. Ann has pasta in a shellfish sauce that is incredible. We also had grilled vegetables and a zuppetta (mussels and clams in a red sauce) which are both tasty. For my first meal in Italy, I am pleased.
March 8, my sister Maureen’s birthday is International Women’s Day and it seems to be widely celebrated here. It is symbolized by mimosa,
a yellow flower which is being sold throughout the city.Our local church is St. Rita’s and for 10 am Mass, it is mobbed. Just about standing room only and it is a huge church. Apparently it is a daily occurrence.
Ann had a New York Times article form July 2006 about eating in Genoa. This one restaurant, Da Maria,
the writer called the best in Italy. We hurried over there but stopped for a drink along the way. We met a young lady, Michaela, who had a day off (she was a now single mom, putting in her five years awaiting a divorce). She seemed to be enjoying her freedom. We got to know her well enough that she reveals that her first love was an Irishman in the IRA in the 70s and the thought brings tears to her eyes. She shows us the ring he gave her many years ago and tells us she has worn it every day since he gave it to her those many years ago. I buy her and Ann a small bouquet of mimosas and we take some photos.Da Maria’s is a working man’s restaurant – picnic tables and benches, paper menus and crowded, bustling activity. We sit upstairs. Our waiter is a Rasta-Italian.
His name is Roberto Marliaggio. Honest. We order raviolis in porcini, risotto, cimi di vitello (veal loaf we latter learn) and an artichoke torta. 
We were sort of reaching when ordering as everything is handwritten in Italian on a sheet of paper and we did not understand the description of more than half of the dishes. Except for the veal, I’d have everything else many times over…and the experience was great.The other restaurant in the article was Osteria d Vico Palla which was a hard to find but worth the search. Ann ordered pansotti, an herb and cheese stuffed ravioli in a nut sauce and I had trofie in a red sauce made with fish shavings, cherry tomatoes and olives. Ann’s pasta was great…mine was to die for and Ann asked the chef for the recipe…to be recreated at home she promises.
We came to Genoa to eat pasta and we unabashedly did so.
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