Inspired by aesthetic Instagram reels to the tune of Love in Portofino by Dolida, I planned a day trip in Portofino for my last day traveling with my friends. After 11 crazy and beautiful days making our way through London, Paris and the South of France, we would be separating: them to Germany and myself to travel through Italy solo. To celebrate the closing of our crazy adventure, we hopped on a train from our AirBnb in Genoa and traveled 30 minutes to Santa Margherita.
Santa Margherita had not been our initial destination, but we were pleasantly surprised by colorful streets teeming with the intoxicating aromas of Italian cuisine. We decided it would be wise to buy lunch in the cheaper, larger sister city to Portofino, so we wandered through the village until we found prices that suited our budget. The spot we found was hidden in a secluded little patio alongside a bustling cobblestone street. While it was clear we were not our waitresses’ favorite customers, we had grown accustomed to the reaction of disgust that follows the sound of our American accents.
The unfriendly service was no match for how delicious and affordable the meal was. For my first taste of pasta in Italy, I had handmade linguine with a fresh tomato pesto sauce. The region of Genoa is known for its pesto, and for good reason. Often, I find that pesto is overwhelmingly garlicky and bitter without adding much dimensional flavors, but this sauce proved me wrong. The fresh sweetness of the tomatoes cut the sharp tang of the pesto perfectly; the sauce altogether was pungent, rich and nutty.
Fat and happy from our meal, we lazily strolled to the ferry port where we purchased tickets for 16 euros and boarded the rooftop section of the boat for panoramic views of Golfo Tigullio and the Santa Margherita coastline. We pulled into Portofino after 15 minutes on the boat, sidling along yachts, mahogany speedboats and the horseshoe façade of Portofino. Unlike the uniform sunset pastels blanketing the South of France, the villages in Italy sport a more complex palette of pastels, earthy greens,oranges and brick reds.
Unsurprisingly, we were not the only ones who had discovered the romantic allure of Portofino and we climbed off the boat into the company of a boardwalk swarming with tourists. Immediately overwhelmed by the crowds, we cut into the neighborhood streets, browsing through tourist shops and amusingly checking out the price tags of white table clothed bistro menus.
We each agreed that Portofino was beautiful, but not somewhere we would want to spend a bulk of our time, so we parted with the village after an hour or so of exploration. Of course, not before buying gelato. I write this now, having been through all of Cinque Terre and Rome, and I maintain the gelato we had in Portofino was the best of the trip. It was so creamy and soft it practically fell off the spoon as it was scooped generously into wafer cones. I ordered pistachio and hazelnut, which would become my all-time favorite combination, and exclaimed immediately how it was the best thing I had ever tasted. We had to lick hastily before our melting treats became a puddle in our hands, but I have never been so grateful for a task.
Sticky and hot from our gelato snack in the sun, we ventured towards the beach. Discouraged by the small strips of sand, mostly shaded and completely packed, we decided to make a beach of our own, the floating sort, and we rented paddleboards for an hour. This was by far our best decision of the day, or arguably the whole trip. While there wasn’t a whole lot of paddling involved, we spent the hour splayed out in the sun and rocking peacefully in the waves. Our little personal docks were the most ideal swimming spots, and we rolled off into the sea when we got hot, curling like otters around our boards.
We reluctantly returned our boards at the end of the hour to catch the last ferry back to Santa Margherita and made our way back home to Genoa. Sleepy and salty, I left Portofino enthralled with Italy and perfectly content with the notion of spending the next two and a half weeks of my life having days like these.
