I had been keeping an eye out for Manchester-Genoa flights for a little while but they don't seem to start until mid summer. The reason I wanted flights to Genoa was not to see the city as such but to head on to the pretty towns along the Italian Riviera.
Flights are considerably more expensive in the school holidays and I could not book in advance as I was waiting on my new passport, so as I scanned various flight prices in the weeks leading up to May half term, I watched them all cynically shoot up day-by-day.
I had not bothered checking for flights to Bergamo as I had been there six weeks previously, staying in Brescia to see the Italian Lakes (Garda and Iseo). The day after my passport arrived, I jumped back on to find a flight for one week later and Liverpool-Bergamo appeared on Sky Scanner for a great price.
I had a look on a map of Italy to see where else I could go if I did fly back into Bergamo, then my eyes traced down towards Genoa on the north-west coast of Italy and wondered if it would be feasible- Trainline showed me it was indeed.
So, flights to Bergamo were booked. Now, how to get to Genoa?
The route I went for went like this:
- Train: Bergamo- Milano Centrale (direct, 48 minutes, £5)
- One night hotel stay near Milano Centrale at the Hotel Soperga (an overnight stay is not necessary but I wanted to break up the travelling)
- Train: Milano Centrale- Genova Piazza Principe (direct, 1 hour 33 minutes, £20)
Genoa (Genova in Italian) is the capital of the Liguria region, situated along what is known as the Italian Riviera on the Mediterranean Sea.
You can actually take a three-hour train to Nice, France, if you wish to combine the Italian Riviera with the French Riviera. I have mentally logged this idea for the future!
Genoa's port is the busiest in all of Italy and being a port city, it reminded me of both Algeciras in Spain, and Naples in southern Italy.
I had read a few travel blogs before arriving and the reports of Genoa being a dangerous, rough, and dirty city meant I did not exactly have high hopes. Still, I waited to book my onward train down to Lavagna until I decided it was time to move on rather than in advance because I was not sure how long I would want to be there.
Like many port cities, my home city of Liverpool included, there is so much movement and cargo, riches and crime.
Maybe because of the bad rep my home city receives, I feel a little protective of Genoa now, especially as I was pleasantly surprised by how beautiful it is and how safe I felt (this does not mean to be naive- I was there on a sunny afternoon with plenty of people about).
I was also surprised to see quite a lot of anti-tourist graffiti despite the fact many European cities such as Barcelona, Palma de Mallorca, and Seville express how fed up they are with over-tourism and the problems it creates with congestion and being priced out by Air B&Bs and the like, but I had not considered Genoa as such a tourist hotspot, but then what do I know when I have only spent one day there?
I totally understand it though, rent and mortgage costs are already ridiculous so imagine not being able to live in your own city centre because people/companies are buying up apartments for Air B&Bs and you are having to queue or squeeze your way through everywhere due to crowds and selfie sticks.
I did not stay overnight in Genoa as I wanted to stay on the riviera for access to places such as Portofino and Rapallo.
My cabin bag was heavy so I used a website called Radical Storage to find a Hotel (Albergo Parigi) where I could store my bag for a few hours to give my shoulders a break! This cost £5 and it is so worth doing rather than resenting the weight in the heat.
You will have seen pesto mentioned in the graffiti in the earlier photo. Yes, Genoa is home to the famous pesto genovese, owing to the abundance of the particular species of basil that grows wildly in Genoa.
Basil is one of my favourite herbs and I keep a plant on my kitchen windowsill back home. The aroma of basil floats gently over the sea air in Genoa which is a delight, just as in how the scent of jasmine is everywhere in Málaga and orange blossom in Córdoba.
The other culinary classic of the region of Liguria is the focaccia, and in Genoa it is the focaccia al formaggio, cheese focaccia.
It was sweltering when I arrived in Genoa and needed to eat and hydrate before tackling the city properly. I ducked into the shade of a simple and pleasant focacceria called Verde Salvia and ordered a cheese focaccia and sparkling water. Ok, it doesn't look much in the above photo but it does the job, giving a quick hit of savoury energy for 6 euros. This one was very thin, and I did taste a much better focaccia the next day in Rapallo.
I then crossed a few streets following the sense of the sea and found the Porto Antico, the old port.
Lofty palm trees line the lungomare with a nice breeze coming in off the sea. It was refreshing to walk along there rather than the heat of the city centre (the clever thing about Genoa is the caruggi - narrow alleyways- which mean you can navigate the city in some shade).
'Let's Get Loud' by Jennifer Lopez was booming over speakers while people participated in a zumba-esque dance workout and there was a high presence of police and military around which seemed at odds with one another. I then saw the signs indicating it was a festival of sport which made it make sense then; the police and army were there with informative stalls rather than on patrol.
The main sights on the waterfront of Genoa are the Genoa Aquarium and the Biosphere. I didn't go in either but they'd be great for families- I am not sure how I feel about aquariums but the biosphere looks great, housing all sorts of tropical plants and wildlife. Both buildings on the waterfront give the city a futuristic feel, a bit like Valencia with its science museum.
Mid-afternoon meant finding somewhere to try trofie con pesto all genovese as looking online didn't help due to the fact it is everywhere and there was no general consensus of the best place. I continued wandering around until I found somewhere with a free table outdoors, which was the Caffe Il Barbarossa.
The above picture is not the caffe itself but the view downhill from my table outside.
It was a lovely, shaded spot that wasn't too busy and gave a great view from both sides.
Of course, I ordered trofie con pesto alla genovese and a glass of house white. Ligurian white wine is so good that I didn't even know or ask for what grape it was, it's always good in Italy. I much prefer red wine but find when I'm in Italy, I tend to go for white more.
Trofie pasta are little twists from Genoa and its name comes from the Genoa dialect word strufuggiâ, coming from the Italian verb strofiare meaning 'to rub' as that's how the twists are made.
The pesto comes from the Genoese basil that grows freely everywhere and has a delicate fragrance that's less aniseedy than what I grow back home or can buy from the supermarket.
One minor irritation was that while I was sat there enjoying this lovely meal, paid for by money I earn in my full time job back home, a man about 10-15 years older than me walked past and said "ahhh sei soletta" (ahhh you're all alone).
I mean, he wasn't wrong. I was alone.
But what is it about some men (usually of his generation) that experience this knee-jerk reaction to seeing a woman exist in her space, doing as she wishes, harming nobody?
In the past, this would have really aggravated me but this time I was more pragmatic and reminded myself that unfortunately, as far as women's rights have advanced massively in terms of last 50-100 years where I in 2026 can do things my predecessors couldn't- own my own home, have my own bank account, drive a car, travel abroad unchaperoned, some men with an archaic mindset will still find it objectionable or curious to see a woman with autonomy.
The impulse to comment, the condescending tone as if I'm a pity case... it's to mock the progress we now enjoy.
This drives me to do it all the more. I love men, I know many men are open-minded and progressive and view women fairly, humanly and positively, but there are still men who feel the patriarchal right to 'remind' a woman she's stepping out of expectations and I will not submit.
Anyway, after lunch, I took one last stroll through the caruggi back towards Albergo Parigi to pick up my bag and head to Genoa Piazza Principe station for my onwards journey to Rapallo.
Interestingly, the flag of Genoa is almost identical to England's, and as it happens, England took inspiration from Genoa's flag.
Both are the cross of St. George; back around 1190, English monarchs paid a 'rent' to the rulers of Genoa so their ships could bear the flag so they could cross the Mediterranean safely. Eventually, England adopted this flag as their own and is still considered a 'rented' flag.
Similarly to how they say you learn a lot about your native language when you learn another, travel can teach you a lot about your homeland when abroad.
Speaking of both language and travel, Lavagna, my onward destination for the next three nights, means 'blackboard' in Italian. Lavagna is a place where black slate has been extracted from for centuries and was used in Genoa's cathedral, the Cattedrale di San Lorenzo.
So off I departed into the early evening sunset to Lavagna after a day in Genoa, an underrated city where I felt totally safe and everyone I spoke to was friendly. Yes, always proceed with caution when somewhere unfamiliar and don't be foolish with your handbag etc but I have to say that Genoa surprised me and I liked its gritty yet pretty vibe.
It is a city of motion, of import and export, glorious sunshine, nature, and the ever-present scent of basil on the air.
On that note, I will leave you with a few final photos from my day in Genoa before writing about the aforementioned lovely Lavagna.
If you have been to Genoa, I would love to know your thoughts and any recommendations for a return trip there one day!
Laura x
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