25th January 2017
After six days, it was time for me to leave Nice. I checked out of my hostel, took a metro to the airport, and from there boarded a bus to Genoa. I arrived in the early evening, and walked through the city from where the bus dropped me to Victoria House Hostel. The hostel occupied the third floor of an ornate building with a grand, marble lobby, and an old-style elevator, which was a cage on a chain compared to its modern counterpart. The hostel itself was homely and welcoming, and had a small, cosy common area, with the inwards facing couches that I like to see. The manager, Val, made a point of introducing each incoming guest to everyone in the kitchen and common area during their tour, which built an instant sense of community.
That evening, I went to Genoa city centre with Tom, an up-and-coming Swiss hotelier with a passion for gin and tonics, and Emily, an Aussie backpacking through Europe on her way to England to pursue work in childcare. We made our way through the busy main shopping street of downtown Genoa, past the grand fountain of the central square, and into the small alleys of the old town, in search of food and drinks. We were each indecisive, passing over every bar we came across in search of a better one, until Tom spotted a lounge advertising a large gin selection; we’d found our spot for the evening.