The first bird sounds made me aware of the breaking of dawn. Ronald slept deeply, and out of earshot, rolled up in his sleeping bag. I felt hung over from passing a sleepless night, and had an ominous feeling that something weird was about to happen. Still I was somehow charged with new energy from our long and intensive verbal interaction. Catharina, on the other hand, looked as fresh as a rose petal, as if she just had her 8 hour beauty sleep.

I woke up Ronald and we found ourselves a mini market and had breakfast in the open air. It promised to be another scorcher of a day and the temperature was rising rapidly. Catharina’s behavior towards Ronald was civil but with an undertone of indifference. She invited us to come with her to Genoa, saying that we would have a place to stay in her mother’s apartment. Ronald looked uneasy about this suggestion, and tried to formulate various objections, but in the end agreed to come along, as we hadn’t defined a final destination for our travel, but instead agreed to see where we would end up spontaneously.

While Ronald and I were still munching our sandwiches in silence, Catharina suddenly got up and walked, hip-swaying, over to a telephone booth in the distance, where she spent at least 10 minutes in what seemed to be an animated conversation. When she came back she seemed somewhat subdued and didn’t speak for all the time we were packing our bags.

A Mercedes with a German license plate stopped with screeching brakes at Catharina’s first thumb-sign. A seemingly sympathetic middle-aged man got out and helped us putting our bags in the trunk, and away we sped southwards, in the direction of the sun. He dropped us off in Montreux, on the Swiss Riviera. As we thanked him for the ride and said goodbye, he pressed a 20 D-Mark note in my hand, saying he had a daughter my age, and he wished someone would do her the same favor one day.

Things are looking up, I thought, as we bought enough provisions to last for days. We started to walk towards the highway to Italy, when suddenly we were surrounded by a swarm of enormous bees that seemed to come out of holes in the ground. They didn’t actually sting or attack us, but there were so many of them that, in a reflex, we started to run for safety. Ronald used a plastic plate he brought along as a bat to keep them at bay. Out of breath we reached a place in the shadow, while Ronald was still watching over us with his plate, and bashing the last giant bees to pulp.

Relieved to be safe again, we laughed apprehensively at one another, and Catharina, standing behind me, whispered in my ear: “That was fun, wasn’t it?” With a jolt I felt that she touched my earlobe with her lips…

Our next two rides brought us all the way to Genoa, and from there we took the subway to Catharina’s home. The concierge at the end of the entrance corridor of the apartment apparently knew Catharina because she came out of her booth to greet her with a grating voice and a smile that revealed a single tooth, while pressing the button for the elevator. Packed together in the small cabin, the three of us were noisily transported to the top floor, where the elevator stopped with a groan.

Catharina’s mother, a small kindly woman, was standing in the doorway wearing an apron. A rusty enamel plaque next to the entrance revealed a faded number 5*. The mother embraced us like we were family and ushered us into her apartment. The air inside was pregnant with the wonderful smell of fresh Basil and garlic, and within minutes we were seated around the kitchen table and eating the most tantalizing “Spaghetti Al Pesto Alla Genovese”.

(to be continued in: Latin Dreams – part one)

* 5: The spiritual meaning of number Five deals with travel, adventure, and motion. With the highs that come with these attributes, Fives also carry instability and unpredictability, and radical changes. The spiritual meaning of Five draws our attention to the wonder of life, and beckons us to appreciate the perception of chaos all around us. Five has wild vibrations: primitive and erratic. When Five continues to pop up in your life be prepared for some action, like a trip. Remember, trips aren’t all necessarily taken physically. Some of the best journeys are taken in the mind and spirit.

Over the years I’ve been trying to perfect this seemingly simple recipe, up to a point that it came to par with my experience of the dish as it was prepared that particular day by Catharina’s mother:

Here’s my recipe, as a first dish (primo) for 5 people:

Pesto Alla Genovese

Ingredients:

• 7-8 ounces (200 grams or 4 packs) of fresh basil
• 1 head of garlic (10 cloves or more)
• 3-4 ounces (100 grams) of pine nuts
• 3-4 ounces (100 grams) of Parmesan cheese
• 10 tablespoons of virgin olive oil
• a handful of chive and parsley
• pepper and salt

Preparation:

• clean and dry the basil, chive and parsley
• peal the Garlic
• roast the pine nuts
• grate the Parmesan cheese

Historically, pesto is prepared in a marble mortar with a wooden pestle. The leaves are placed in the mortar with the garlic and coarse salt, and crushed to a creamy consistency. The pine nuts are added and crushed together with the other ingredients. When the nuts are well-incorporated into the “cream”, grated cheese and olive oil should be added to the mix.
Cook the pasta “al dente” (not too soft), drain and mix with the Pesto before serving. Have grated parmesan on the side. Buon appetito!

In a tight jar (or simply in an air-tight plastic container), pesto can last in the refrigerator up to a week, or can also be frozen for later use.

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