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The sound of clinking silverware and
lunchtime conversations drifted into the alley through the dark green shutters of second-story windows. Up ahead， a pair of sculpted cupids floated above a pastry shop. I slowed down to inhale the sweet smell of baking.
A church bell rang as a woman approached me， “Scusi， signora， dov’è…”―I stopped her before she could ask directions. In my 2）shoddy Italian I explained with a smile that I was lost too. She smiled back and I went on my way， meandering through the shadowy paths of the historic center of Genoa.
Most of the time， getting lost brings on 3）grimaces rather than smiles. But losing direction in the maze of narrow and steep 4）medieval streets in Genoa’s Centro Storico， the historic center， could not have been more enjoyable.
The idyllic area， squeezed between the port and the city’s terraced hillside， is said to be the largest historical town center in Europe. Old walls and forts surround this 5）picturesque port city with its many Renaissance palaces and richly decorated churches.
The Cathedral of San Lorenzo is perhaps the most famous building besides the 16th-century Lanterna （lighthouse）―an emblem of Genoa. So I tucked away my impossible-to-follow map and discovered that surrendering to Genoa， letting her reveal herself， was the way to find the essence of the ancient city.
Genoa， beautifully situated on the Gulf of Genoa， an arm of the Ligurian Sea， is the chief seaport of Italy. The city is also a major commercial and industrial center. About 700，000 people call Genoa home.
One of them was my group’s guide， Micaela， a flaming red-haired 20-something part-time pop music singer. Like the rest of the Genovese， she was enthusiastic about introducing us to Genoa’s high-profile sights.
Genoa was named a European Cultural Capital in 2004， and locals like Micaela were pumped to show off their city， “Genoa， La Superba” （The Haughty）―this is the nickname the city took on during its 13th to 18th century maritime heyday.
But I found myself most attracted to Genoa the Humble. Micaela started us off at the Porto Antico （Old Harbor）， badly damaged in World War II and rebuilt in 1992， when Genoa celebrated the 500th anniversary of the voyage of its most famous native， Christopher Columbus.
I drifted from the modern plaza to the folksy food stalls. There， under sunflowercolored tents， cooks sold regional specialties. I spotted what was to become my favorite Genovese snack： thin， lightly salted focaccia bread， served hot and stuffed with melted cheese. Closer into the historic center， we toured the palaces which encircle it. I admired the creamy yellow-and-rose 6）fa？ade of the Palazzo Ducale， which was formerly the Doges Palace. When I got closer， I realized I’d actually been admiring a masterpiece of 7）tromp l’oeil. “The Genovese have a reputation for being cheap，” explained Micaela. “They didn’t want to spend money on stone masons， so they perfected an art of painting to make three-dimensional effects.”
Shooting off from the cathedral square in all directions are the “8）doglegged” alleys（called carrugi） that make up the treasurefilled labyrinth of the old city. Curiosity 9）piqued， I went my separate way from the tour group to explore the mysterious pathways that cut between seven-story-high buildings.
This was once the site of chases and back stabbings between feuding families. But centuries later， my walk through it could not have been more peaceful. There were no cars， it was practically tourist-free， and I blended in with its working class locals.
It was like walking through an open-air museum， lit by slits of sunlight filtered through the shadows. I found 10）votive stone figurines jutting from second-story corners of pale gold and ochre buildings， and Biblical scenes cut in 11）friezes above the doorways.
One alley opened up to the Piazza Campetto， where I watched painters o n 1 2 ）s c a f f o l d i n g as they restored the 13）pastel fa？ade of the Imperial Palace. A steep stairway attached to the palace led me under starry frescoed ceilings to what was once the goldsmith’s 14）loggia. It’s now the home of Fabrorum， a store， laboratory and museum showcasing the traditional Genovese art of gold 15）filigree. Elegant rooms displayed everything from centuries old 16）chalices to gorgeous necklaces and earrings for sale.
I found Klainguti， a caffé or coffee shop， dating to 1826， where 17）Giuseppe Verdi hung out during the 40 winters he spent here. Past the counters of 18）confections， were small connecting Rococo salons featuring crystal cut mirrors and 19）chandeliers.
The stores I stumbled upon could have been roped off with velvet as displays of life in another century， each decked out with 20）baroque painted or sculpted signs. There were white-tiled butcher shops with 21）marble-slab counters， 22）pharmacies with colorful ceramic jars displayed in dark wood cases， and dusty engraving workshops. Though the shopkeepers didn’t speak much English， I found browsing with smiles and hand signals was welcome. Unlike other Italian cities， the Genovese have not been burnt-out by an onslaught of tourists. As a result， the 23）authenticity of the city has not been compromised， the locals are patient and accommodating， and there were no overcrowded restaurants or long lines at museums.
At our farewell dinner that night， everyone in our travel group had stories to tell about their adventures in the “labyrinth.”
Tom had visited Genoa’s Jazz Museum， which chronicled the stars who had played at the city’s festivals and nearby coastal resorts. Antonia showed off a pair of pearly chic shoes she’d bought for a bargain.
I’d picked up a handmade cut glass lavender bracelet. It sparkled on my wrist as I made a toast： “To return for more days of getting lost and finding Genoa’s treasures.”
敲击银器和午餐聊天的声音从二楼深绿色的百叶窗里飘到了小巷之中。继续前行，一对丘比特雕饰浮现在糕点店门楣上。我放缓了步伐，深深吸入这烘烤的甜香。
教堂的钟声在回荡，这时，一名女子向我走近，“对不起，女士，哪里……”——我在她打算向我问路之前就打住了她。我用自己稀烂的意大利语和微笑向她解释说，我也迷路了。她对我回以微笑，然后我继续自己的旅程，漫步于热那亚历史中心那些幽暗的小巷之中。
在绝大多数时候，迷路带来的是古怪表情而非微笑。但在热那亚的历史中心——古城区那些狭窄而陡峭的中世纪街巷迷宫里失去方向，没有什么比这更让人愉快的了。
这片质朴宜人的地区，夹在海港和城内的山坡阶地之间，被称为是欧洲最大的古城。老城墙和堡垒环绕着这座别致的海港城市，城中有着许多文艺复兴时期的宫殿和装饰繁复的教堂。
建于16世纪的灯笼塔是热那亚的标志。圣洛伦佐大教堂也许是其旁边最著名的建筑了。所以我折起了自己那不可能看明白的地图，发现干脆向热那亚屈服，让她自我揭示，那才是探索这座古城精髓的正确方式。
热那亚城，优美地坐落在热那亚海湾——利古里亚海的一条臂弯上，是意大利最重要的海港城市。这座城市也是主要的商业和工业中心。约七十万人称热那亚为其家园。
其中之一便是我们团队的导游米卡艾拉，一名有着火红色头发，二十出头的兼职流行歌手。就像其他的热那亚人一样，她热情洋溢地向我们介绍着热那亚声名远扬的美景。
热那亚于2004年被命名为“欧洲文化之都”之一，而像米卡艾拉这样的当地人总是迫不及待地炫耀他们的城市。“热那亚，人类骄傲”——这是这座城市在13至18世纪航海盛世时得到的昵称。
但我发现自己最为着迷的却是热那亚的谦逊。米卡艾拉领着我们从“老港口”开始观光。二战时期这里被严重损毁，1992年，热那亚庆祝其最著名的本地人克里斯托弗·哥伦布航海（发现美洲新大陆）500周年时重建。
我从现代的广场游荡到颇具民风的食物摊上。在那里，在那些向日葵色的帐篷下，厨师们售卖着当地的风味小吃。我发现了一种小吃，后来变成了我最喜爱的热那亚小吃：纤薄且微咸的弗卡夏面包，端出来时热乎乎的，里面填满了融化的奶酪。
我们走入古城的更深处，游览了环绕古城中心的宫殿群。我热爱公爵宫那如奶油般泛着鹅黄和玫瑰红色的外墙面，这里的旧称为总督宫。当我靠得更近时，我意识到自己实际上正在瞻仰一幅错视画派的大师之作。“热那亚人以吝啬而闻名，”米卡艾拉解释说。“他们不愿意为石匠而花钱，于是他们将一种绘画艺术加以完善，造成三维效果。”
蜿蜒曲折的小街小巷（被称为“窄巷”）以教堂广场为中心向四面八方延伸开来，构成了老城藏匿珍宝的迷宫。出于好奇，我离开了旅行团独自去探索这些被一排排七层高的小楼分割开来的神秘小径。
这里曾是那些世仇家族相互追打和背后捅刀的地方。但数个世纪之后，我行走于其间只能感受到十足的平和。这里没有汽车，几乎没有其他游客，而我也与当地的劳工阶层完美相容。
就像是行走于一座露天博物馆，由渗过暗影的缕缕阳光作为照明。我发现用以还愿的小石雕像，从浅金和赭色建筑的二楼转角处凸出来，门口还镶有圣经场景的浮雕饰板。
在一条通往坎佩托广场的小径上，我看着脚手架上的画师们在修复帝王宫那淡粉色的外墙。与宫殿相连的一段陡峭阶梯引着我穿过绘着星辰的天花板，来到曾经是金匠们聚集的凉亭。如今这里变成了“工匠之家”，一个展示传统热那亚金丝工艺的商店、实验室和博物馆。优雅的房间里陈列着各种可供出售的物品，从几百年前的圣餐杯到华美的项链和耳环，应有尽有。
我还找到了热那亚的克莱古提咖啡馆，一间建于1826年的咖啡店，朱塞佩·威尔第居住此地时曾在此消磨了40年的冬日时光。走过一排甜品柜台，便是相互连接的洛可可式小沙龙，因水晶切割的镜子和枝形吊灯而闻名。
我偶然发现的那些小店本来可以用丝绒绳带隔开，作为展厅，展示另一个世纪的生活方式。每个小店所装饰的招牌都是巴洛克式的绘画或雕塑。这里有铺着白色瓷砖并装有厚厚大理石板柜台的肉店，在深色木盒里展示着各色广口瓶的药店，还有灰尘扑扑的雕刻工坊。
尽管店主们不太会说英语，我依然见到笑盈盈的目光和欢迎的手势。不像其他的意大利城市，热那亚还没有被汹涌而来的游客所消耗殆尽。其结果是，这座城市的原汁原味尚未受损，本地人依然耐心且随和，既没有人头攒动的大小餐馆，博物馆也不用排成长龙。
那天晚上在我们的告别晚餐上，我们旅行团里的每一个人都有一肚子关于他们在“迷宫”中的冒险经历要告诉大家。
汤姆参观了热那亚的爵士博物馆，那里记录了那些曾在这个城市的节庆和附近的海滨游乐场演出过的明星们。安东尼娅炫耀着她经过一番讨价还价后买来的一双雅致的镶有珍珠的鞋。
我则寻到了一个手工切割的淡紫色玻璃手镯。当我祝酒时，它在我的手腕上闪闪发亮：“愿还能重返热那亚，用更多的时光迷失其中并寻觅其珍宝。”
lunchtime conversations drifted into the alley through the dark green shutters of second-story windows. Up ahead， a pair of sculpted cupids floated above a pastry shop. I slowed down to inhale the sweet smell of baking.
A church bell rang as a woman approached me， “Scusi， signora， dov’è…”―I stopped her before she could ask directions. In my 2）shoddy Italian I explained with a smile that I was lost too. She smiled back and I went on my way， meandering through the shadowy paths of the historic center of Genoa.
Most of the time， getting lost brings on 3）grimaces rather than smiles. But losing direction in the maze of narrow and steep 4）medieval streets in Genoa’s Centro Storico， the historic center， could not have been more enjoyable.
The idyllic area， squeezed between the port and the city’s terraced hillside， is said to be the largest historical town center in Europe. Old walls and forts surround this 5）picturesque port city with its many Renaissance palaces and richly decorated churches.
The Cathedral of San Lorenzo is perhaps the most famous building besides the 16th-century Lanterna （lighthouse）―an emblem of Genoa. So I tucked away my impossible-to-follow map and discovered that surrendering to Genoa， letting her reveal herself， was the way to find the essence of the ancient city.
Genoa， beautifully situated on the Gulf of Genoa， an arm of the Ligurian Sea， is the chief seaport of Italy. The city is also a major commercial and industrial center. About 700，000 people call Genoa home.
One of them was my group’s guide， Micaela， a flaming red-haired 20-something part-time pop music singer. Like the rest of the Genovese， she was enthusiastic about introducing us to Genoa’s high-profile sights.
Genoa was named a European Cultural Capital in 2004， and locals like Micaela were pumped to show off their city， “Genoa， La Superba” （The Haughty）―this is the nickname the city took on during its 13th to 18th century maritime heyday.
But I found myself most attracted to Genoa the Humble. Micaela started us off at the Porto Antico （Old Harbor）， badly damaged in World War II and rebuilt in 1992， when Genoa celebrated the 500th anniversary of the voyage of its most famous native， Christopher Columbus.
I drifted from the modern plaza to the folksy food stalls. There， under sunflowercolored tents， cooks sold regional specialties. I spotted what was to become my favorite Genovese snack： thin， lightly salted focaccia bread， served hot and stuffed with melted cheese. Closer into the historic center， we toured the palaces which encircle it. I admired the creamy yellow-and-rose 6）fa？ade of the Palazzo Ducale， which was formerly the Doges Palace. When I got closer， I realized I’d actually been admiring a masterpiece of 7）tromp l’oeil. “The Genovese have a reputation for being cheap，” explained Micaela. “They didn’t want to spend money on stone masons， so they perfected an art of painting to make three-dimensional effects.”
Shooting off from the cathedral square in all directions are the “8）doglegged” alleys（called carrugi） that make up the treasurefilled labyrinth of the old city. Curiosity 9）piqued， I went my separate way from the tour group to explore the mysterious pathways that cut between seven-story-high buildings.
This was once the site of chases and back stabbings between feuding families. But centuries later， my walk through it could not have been more peaceful. There were no cars， it was practically tourist-free， and I blended in with its working class locals.
It was like walking through an open-air museum， lit by slits of sunlight filtered through the shadows. I found 10）votive stone figurines jutting from second-story corners of pale gold and ochre buildings， and Biblical scenes cut in 11）friezes above the doorways.
One alley opened up to the Piazza Campetto， where I watched painters o n 1 2 ）s c a f f o l d i n g as they restored the 13）pastel fa？ade of the Imperial Palace. A steep stairway attached to the palace led me under starry frescoed ceilings to what was once the goldsmith’s 14）loggia. It’s now the home of Fabrorum， a store， laboratory and museum showcasing the traditional Genovese art of gold 15）filigree. Elegant rooms displayed everything from centuries old 16）chalices to gorgeous necklaces and earrings for sale.
I found Klainguti， a caffé or coffee shop， dating to 1826， where 17）Giuseppe Verdi hung out during the 40 winters he spent here. Past the counters of 18）confections， were small connecting Rococo salons featuring crystal cut mirrors and 19）chandeliers.
The stores I stumbled upon could have been roped off with velvet as displays of life in another century， each decked out with 20）baroque painted or sculpted signs. There were white-tiled butcher shops with 21）marble-slab counters， 22）pharmacies with colorful ceramic jars displayed in dark wood cases， and dusty engraving workshops. Though the shopkeepers didn’t speak much English， I found browsing with smiles and hand signals was welcome. Unlike other Italian cities， the Genovese have not been burnt-out by an onslaught of tourists. As a result， the 23）authenticity of the city has not been compromised， the locals are patient and accommodating， and there were no overcrowded restaurants or long lines at museums.
At our farewell dinner that night， everyone in our travel group had stories to tell about their adventures in the “labyrinth.”
Tom had visited Genoa’s Jazz Museum， which chronicled the stars who had played at the city’s festivals and nearby coastal resorts. Antonia showed off a pair of pearly chic shoes she’d bought for a bargain.
I’d picked up a handmade cut glass lavender bracelet. It sparkled on my wrist as I made a toast： “To return for more days of getting lost and finding Genoa’s treasures.”
敲击银器和午餐聊天的声音从二楼深绿色的百叶窗里飘到了小巷之中。继续前行，一对丘比特雕饰浮现在糕点店门楣上。我放缓了步伐，深深吸入这烘烤的甜香。
教堂的钟声在回荡，这时，一名女子向我走近，“对不起，女士，哪里……”——我在她打算向我问路之前就打住了她。我用自己稀烂的意大利语和微笑向她解释说，我也迷路了。她对我回以微笑，然后我继续自己的旅程，漫步于热那亚历史中心那些幽暗的小巷之中。
在绝大多数时候，迷路带来的是古怪表情而非微笑。但在热那亚的历史中心——古城区那些狭窄而陡峭的中世纪街巷迷宫里失去方向，没有什么比这更让人愉快的了。
这片质朴宜人的地区，夹在海港和城内的山坡阶地之间，被称为是欧洲最大的古城。老城墙和堡垒环绕着这座别致的海港城市，城中有着许多文艺复兴时期的宫殿和装饰繁复的教堂。
建于16世纪的灯笼塔是热那亚的标志。圣洛伦佐大教堂也许是其旁边最著名的建筑了。所以我折起了自己那不可能看明白的地图，发现干脆向热那亚屈服，让她自我揭示，那才是探索这座古城精髓的正确方式。
热那亚城，优美地坐落在热那亚海湾——利古里亚海的一条臂弯上，是意大利最重要的海港城市。这座城市也是主要的商业和工业中心。约七十万人称热那亚为其家园。
其中之一便是我们团队的导游米卡艾拉，一名有着火红色头发，二十出头的兼职流行歌手。就像其他的热那亚人一样，她热情洋溢地向我们介绍着热那亚声名远扬的美景。
热那亚于2004年被命名为“欧洲文化之都”之一，而像米卡艾拉这样的当地人总是迫不及待地炫耀他们的城市。“热那亚，人类骄傲”——这是这座城市在13至18世纪航海盛世时得到的昵称。
但我发现自己最为着迷的却是热那亚的谦逊。米卡艾拉领着我们从“老港口”开始观光。二战时期这里被严重损毁，1992年，热那亚庆祝其最著名的本地人克里斯托弗·哥伦布航海（发现美洲新大陆）500周年时重建。
我从现代的广场游荡到颇具民风的食物摊上。在那里，在那些向日葵色的帐篷下，厨师们售卖着当地的风味小吃。我发现了一种小吃，后来变成了我最喜爱的热那亚小吃：纤薄且微咸的弗卡夏面包，端出来时热乎乎的，里面填满了融化的奶酪。
我们走入古城的更深处，游览了环绕古城中心的宫殿群。我热爱公爵宫那如奶油般泛着鹅黄和玫瑰红色的外墙面，这里的旧称为总督宫。当我靠得更近时，我意识到自己实际上正在瞻仰一幅错视画派的大师之作。“热那亚人以吝啬而闻名，”米卡艾拉解释说。“他们不愿意为石匠而花钱，于是他们将一种绘画艺术加以完善，造成三维效果。”
蜿蜒曲折的小街小巷（被称为“窄巷”）以教堂广场为中心向四面八方延伸开来，构成了老城藏匿珍宝的迷宫。出于好奇，我离开了旅行团独自去探索这些被一排排七层高的小楼分割开来的神秘小径。
这里曾是那些世仇家族相互追打和背后捅刀的地方。但数个世纪之后，我行走于其间只能感受到十足的平和。这里没有汽车，几乎没有其他游客，而我也与当地的劳工阶层完美相容。
就像是行走于一座露天博物馆，由渗过暗影的缕缕阳光作为照明。我发现用以还愿的小石雕像，从浅金和赭色建筑的二楼转角处凸出来，门口还镶有圣经场景的浮雕饰板。
在一条通往坎佩托广场的小径上，我看着脚手架上的画师们在修复帝王宫那淡粉色的外墙。与宫殿相连的一段陡峭阶梯引着我穿过绘着星辰的天花板，来到曾经是金匠们聚集的凉亭。如今这里变成了“工匠之家”，一个展示传统热那亚金丝工艺的商店、实验室和博物馆。优雅的房间里陈列着各种可供出售的物品，从几百年前的圣餐杯到华美的项链和耳环，应有尽有。
我还找到了热那亚的克莱古提咖啡馆，一间建于1826年的咖啡店，朱塞佩·威尔第居住此地时曾在此消磨了40年的冬日时光。走过一排甜品柜台，便是相互连接的洛可可式小沙龙，因水晶切割的镜子和枝形吊灯而闻名。
我偶然发现的那些小店本来可以用丝绒绳带隔开，作为展厅，展示另一个世纪的生活方式。每个小店所装饰的招牌都是巴洛克式的绘画或雕塑。这里有铺着白色瓷砖并装有厚厚大理石板柜台的肉店，在深色木盒里展示着各色广口瓶的药店，还有灰尘扑扑的雕刻工坊。
尽管店主们不太会说英语，我依然见到笑盈盈的目光和欢迎的手势。不像其他的意大利城市，热那亚还没有被汹涌而来的游客所消耗殆尽。其结果是，这座城市的原汁原味尚未受损，本地人依然耐心且随和，既没有人头攒动的大小餐馆，博物馆也不用排成长龙。
那天晚上在我们的告别晚餐上，我们旅行团里的每一个人都有一肚子关于他们在“迷宫”中的冒险经历要告诉大家。
汤姆参观了热那亚的爵士博物馆，那里记录了那些曾在这个城市的节庆和附近的海滨游乐场演出过的明星们。安东尼娅炫耀着她经过一番讨价还价后买来的一双雅致的镶有珍珠的鞋。
我则寻到了一个手工切割的淡紫色玻璃手镯。当我祝酒时，它在我的手腕上闪闪发亮：“愿还能重返热那亚，用更多的时光迷失其中并寻觅其珍宝。”