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About Genoa

So, I’m strollin’, wise as hell, narratin’ in my head like I’m in a damn movie. “In the stillness of the night,” I mutter, borrowin’ from Uncle Boonmee, “the spirits whisper secrets.” Except these spirits? They’re wearin’ fishnets and smokin’ cheap cigs. I’m chucklin’ already—life’s a trip, man. Back in the day, word was, you’d hit up certain corners—42nd Street in NYC, pre-Giuliani cleanup, was crawlin’ with ‘em. Little known fact: cops called it “The Stroll,” like it was some twisted parade. Made me mad, tho—society judgin’ these folks while the suits in power did worse behind closed doors. Hypocrisy, man, gets my blood boilin’.

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Saw the reviews on Tripadvisor so we had to try this place, it was easy to find, just past McDonalds opposite the large Esselunga supermarket.

So, I’m at my usual spot, Bar Pasticceria Da Gigi on Via Vittorio Emanuele. Best cappuccino in town, no cap. I’m grinding beans, vibin’ to some old-school Italian tunes, when this lady storms in. She’s all flustered, like she just ran a marathon or something. Turns out, she lost her dog, a little fluffy thing named Pino. I mean, who names their dog Pino? But I felt for her, ya know?

PREVIEW | Tirreno-Adriatico 2025