Hot! Broken Glass
The people of Genoa know how to empty bottles.

After three days of climbing I am taking a rest day in this port town near Finale. Heinz has given me a map and told me the Old Town is like Nice. Now, as I walk through the narrow streets the sound of breaking glass is always in the distance. It echoes around the dark cobblestone streets as the recycling truck moves from bar to bar, until it finally dawns on me that Genoa is a party town.

After the shops reopen for lunch, I realized Genoa is filled with tiny wine bars offering samples for 1 euro. I step inside one. Everything is in miniature – from the tiny tastes to the single servings of beer. Even the men are compact. The local signori offer me recommendations and one plops a euro on the table and buys me a round. Eventually, I say my goodbyes and move down the street.

I consider starting a bar crawl until I realize that like everything in Genoa, even the happy hour is tiny. The streets are now filled with women dressed in mini skirts, bustier and Italian cowboy boots. They stand in the doorways and perched uncomfortably on top of Vespas. Happy hour has changed… to happy hour, so I turn towards the train station.

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