Our trip from Istria, all the way down to Andalucia, has been an absolute adventure, revisiting places we’ve not been to in a long while, and taking in new places we wouldn’t necessarily see. Even though we were driving, we decided to cut out the route along the south of France and down into Spain. As beautiful as this is, it would have added a lot of time and expense to the journey and we’d done it in September 2023, so we decided this time to take the overnight car ferry from Genoa to Barcelona. It definitely wasn’t cheap – at just over €500 – but we figured what it what cost us in money, we’d get back in being able to get out of the car and have a good few hours of relaxation, before a good night’s sleep. So, we left Bologna and drove across some breath taking scenery in Emilia Romagna, before crossing into Liguria. The countryside was lush and green, and dotted with hilltop towns, always with a towering campanile. The roads were pretty effortless, even in early July, and on some stretches, we were the only car for miles.
Once we crossed into Liguria, the landscape changed, the greeness giving way to mountains, which had been quarried and hewn into – these marble quarries near Genoa primarily produce a type of marble known as Lavagna slate (or “Ligurian slate”). This slate has been historically significant for the region, especially for roofing, flooring, and other architectural uses, and although not as famous as the Carrara marble from Tuscany, Ligurian slate has its own importance and distinct characteristics. The marble and slate from the Ligurian quarries have been integral to the region’s economy, especially during the Renaissance and Baroque periods, when they were used extensively in local architecture. Quite exhilarating to drive past so many white quarries.
From the Ligurian mountains, we drove down towards the coast and were soon heading towards Genoa – and it was lovely to curve around the bay of Camogli, another place we visited a good few years ago but still had lovely memories of the pastel coloured buildings fringing the beach. And there they all were, still. Genoa is a huge city, and after living quite a rural life, for the last few years, it was a bit of thrill to be back in a hot, sweltering, melting pot of a noisy city, once again. We also hit rush hour, which normally would be a nightmare, but we just enjoyed soaking up the frenetic journey, with scooters whizzing past us, police cars and ambulances screaming around the city, traffic being regulated by the police, pedestrians weaving in out of the traffic and all the time, the hot, hot sun beating down.
We made a good decision hotel-wise, in Genoa, opting for somewhere we’d never normally consider – a Holiday Inn. Because we had to navigate the port the next day, we wanted somewhere fairly close, and somewhere that had a restaurant, plus parking. We knew we’d be tired after the long drive and didn’t want to complicate things and this turned out to be a great decision, as the Holiday Inn actually really surpassed our expectations. We had a room on a high floor, overlooking Genoa and the port and with a cracking sunset view. Car parking was secure and safe, and best of all, as we’ve come to expect in Italy, the restaurant was exceptional. Decor wise it was nothing to write home about, but the food was of such a high standard, that I still remember the taste of my seasonal vegetable soup and the trofie al pesto. Absolutely gorgeous – and washed down with excellent local white wine.
After a good night’s sleep, we were raring to go to catch the ferry, which was due to sail at noon. We’d booked the sailing to Barcelona, but had we investigated a little more closely, we’d have seen that the ferry then sailed onto Tangier, which would have cut out a whole lot of driving as the houses we were intending to view were in south western Andalucia, so we could have just hopped onto another ferry over to Tarifa. But, you live and learn, and in hindsight, we’ve explored and discovered so much more driving down from Barcelona, than we would have done if we’d sailed around the Spanish coast. Anyway, back to our scheduled noon departure. which didn’t happen – for some unknown reason there was a four hour delay, which meant, as we’d already checked in and were in the car queue, sitting in an increasingly sweltering car. I am also very glad I wasn’t in the driving seat, on this occasion, because when we did eventually board, the car had to be driven on forward, and then a very, very tight reverse manoeuvre had to be performed to get it facing the other way. It was pretty chaotic in the depths of the ferry by this stage, and I think we were just both relieved to get out of the car and up on the decks.
It was actually quite sad as we set sail – much more so than when we left Istria – because all of a sudden it felt very real, and I didn’t know when we’d next be in Italy. I think over the last few years, I’ve taken it for granted that we could cross over in Italy so easily, and all of a sudden, as the ferry sailed out of the Bay of Genoa, I realised that it may be quite some time before we return…
Our cabin was an internal one, and although it was for four people, like cabins on ferries, it was boxy and small and pretty claustrophobic, so we spent as little time in it as possible. The top deck of the ferry was beautiful as the ship sailed out of the port, but once it gathered a bit of speed, the wind whipped spray all around us and we had no choice but to retreat indoors – but not before we saw dolphins in the Bay of Genoa. Seven years in Istria and not a sighting of a dolphin! Half an hour on the ferry and we saw five or six jumping in and out the sea, following the wake of the ferry. Magical!
Thankfully, we didn’t have too long to wait until what was billed as the a la carte restaurant, opened. I was a bit dismissive of the idea of this a la carte restaurant. I mean, a la carte, on a car ferry? But then, I hadn’t taken into account that this was an Italian ferry. And, the food was, once again, magnificent! I did wish I had opted for one of the fish dishes, but I wrongly, very wrongly, assumed, the fish would be frozen. What we ordered was delicious – pasta and pizza – but the fish which was arriving at tables around us, was nothing short of amazing. Next time, though, I’ll know. Sleep was pretty fitful, as every noise was magnified, and at some point, we must have hit waves, as there was quite bit of turbulence but I must have also managed to get some shut eye, as the next thing I knew, we were being awoken by the crackling tannoy, announcing in French, Italian and English, that we would soon be arriving in Barcelona. By 9pm, we’d disembarked and were navigating our way out of the city, past Christopher Columbus, at the bottom of Las Ramblas, to head south and begin our big, Spanish adventure…
