When we moved into our flat in Kensal Green, we soon met our 'neighbour' (tenants in the rooms behind ours) Davide, and shortly after that, his lovely girlfriend Flora. It wasn't long before we took turns entertaining each other - dinner parties at ours and bbq's and bonfire nights at theirs. We were devastated when we learnt they were moving out, but before that happened they got engaged!
We were invited to their wedding in Flora's hometown Arenzano, a small town 20 minutes outside Genoa. And so it was that we found ourselves landing in Italy on the 30th September to attend their wedding the next day. Train strikes made our journey to Arenzano a little more challenging but after a couple of buses we were checked into our seaside hotel and sitting down to some marvelous pizza - a recommendation of Flora's, whose friend owned the restaurant. His name was Luigi. Of course it was.
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| Pizzaaaaaa. |
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| Followed by gelato... |
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| Italians have a great sense of humour. |
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| Topped off with a local tipple. |
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| Laughing at the previous photo. |
The next day dawned a bit cool and a little cloudy, and we set off along the street to the church. Not your average church. I'm not sure what we were expecting, but this church was amazing.
Davide looked very dapper (and nervous) waiting for his bride-to-be, and while he waited we caught up with some of their friends we had met a former bbq.
Before long Flora arrived, and she looked beautiful. The ceremony was of course, in Italian. Mike picked up on quite a few words given his Catholic school upbringing and his knowledge of the French language which in some ways is similar, given Italian also has its roots in Latin. I picked up on Flora and Davide's names. And 'amore', and 'familia'. That was about it. But it didn't matter, because you didn't have to know what was being said to enjoy the experience of being at a wedding in Italy, or to feel the love in the room, or to marvel at the gilded church.
The ceremony ended with some of the attendee's taking Eucharist, and then we went outside to wait for the newlyweds to emerge from the church so we could throw... rice! Rice! I thought this stuff had been outlawed! Not in Italy, apparently. Maybe the stories of birds eating the uncooked rice and then their stomachs swelling were rumours. I didn't mind. I got to throw rice. What a fantastic food-stuff to throw.
As it turned out, when you throw rice at someone, the starch can come off on your clothing. Before long poor Davide was covered in the stuff!
Shuttle buses were put on to take us to a restaurant 10 minutes away in the Genoa hills. The heavens opened and we huddled inside to start the festivities. Mainly to drink; aperitif cocktails, sangria, prosecco, G&T's - anything you wanted. While being serenaded by the string quartet we feasted on some truly incredible canapés - we were stuffed.
Flora and Davide arrived, we took some selfies and then the eating began in earnest. All up we spent a solid six hours eating and drinking. Quite an admirable effort.
When the last plate had been cleared, and the last glass drained, we danced. With sparklers at one point! It was an epic night. A few of us went back into town for a night-cap and were eventually joined by Mr & Mrs Della Casa.
Not to let a good travel opportunity pass us by, we had tacked on a bit more holiday and made plans to visit Portofino the next day, while we were conveniently in the area.
After an hour or so we reached the small coastal village often frequented by the rich and famous. And it came with the price tag. It was nay cheap! Twice as much as anything cost down the coast a month earlier in Cinque Terre! To give some point of reference, a coffee at one of the cafes we visited for gelato cost €8. Our lunch of pasta and a glass of wine each set us back €60. Incidentally that was the best pasta I've ever had in my life.
Mike has a thing, where he insists on us not ordering the same thing so we try more things. I chose the pappardelle pasta, he chose the trofie pasta liguria.
The waiter took my order and when he heard Mike's looked up, sighed, shook his head.
"No. I grew up with that pasta," he said as he pointed at the trofie.
Then he pointed at the pappardelle on the menu. "I tried this pasta, it broke my heart".
I have never heard a waiter speak about a dish with such passion. And it wasn't as if he was trying to upsell - both dishes cost the same! There were no two ways about it then, we had to have the same dish.
Best. Decision. Ever.
Following our former Italian protocol, we spent the next 24 hours consuming as much pasta, pizza and gelato as possible. Despite the cooler weather we even managed a swim. Another wonderful trip, full of love.
The ceremony ended with some of the attendee's taking Eucharist, and then we went outside to wait for the newlyweds to emerge from the church so we could throw... rice! Rice! I thought this stuff had been outlawed! Not in Italy, apparently. Maybe the stories of birds eating the uncooked rice and then their stomachs swelling were rumours. I didn't mind. I got to throw rice. What a fantastic food-stuff to throw.
As it turned out, when you throw rice at someone, the starch can come off on your clothing. Before long poor Davide was covered in the stuff!
Shuttle buses were put on to take us to a restaurant 10 minutes away in the Genoa hills. The heavens opened and we huddled inside to start the festivities. Mainly to drink; aperitif cocktails, sangria, prosecco, G&T's - anything you wanted. While being serenaded by the string quartet we feasted on some truly incredible canapés - we were stuffed.
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Flora and Davide arrived, we took some selfies and then the eating began in earnest. All up we spent a solid six hours eating and drinking. Quite an admirable effort.
 |
| A legit dance move to a 70's Italian song... you'll have to take my word for it. |
Not to let a good travel opportunity pass us by, we had tacked on a bit more holiday and made plans to visit Portofino the next day, while we were conveniently in the area.
After an hour or so we reached the small coastal village often frequented by the rich and famous. And it came with the price tag. It was nay cheap! Twice as much as anything cost down the coast a month earlier in Cinque Terre! To give some point of reference, a coffee at one of the cafes we visited for gelato cost €8. Our lunch of pasta and a glass of wine each set us back €60. Incidentally that was the best pasta I've ever had in my life.
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| Pasta, Portofino |
Mike has a thing, where he insists on us not ordering the same thing so we try more things. I chose the pappardelle pasta, he chose the trofie pasta liguria.The waiter took my order and when he heard Mike's looked up, sighed, shook his head.
"No. I grew up with that pasta," he said as he pointed at the trofie.
Then he pointed at the pappardelle on the menu. "I tried this pasta, it broke my heart".
I have never heard a waiter speak about a dish with such passion. And it wasn't as if he was trying to upsell - both dishes cost the same! There were no two ways about it then, we had to have the same dish.
Best. Decision. Ever.
Following our former Italian protocol, we spent the next 24 hours consuming as much pasta, pizza and gelato as possible. Despite the cooler weather we even managed a swim. Another wonderful trip, full of love.
Bellisimmo!
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| Not big fans of trumpets in Portofino. |
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| What we refer to as a 'Mediterranean Dog'. Small, round and lazy. |
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