By Ross Belfer
I had contemplated canceling my trip to Camogli the weeks before I arrived. What a foolish mistake that would have been. Tipped off by friends from the area that the town’s beaches, restaurants and passageways would be laden with unsavory tourist mobs, I wondered: how would I find myself in Camogli?
The truth is that with the right attitude, and putting aside fear of ruining one’s rare “gone fishing sign,” I took a deep dive into a love affair with the rose and golden hues of this Ligurian seaside town. My girlfriend Maya could not grow jealous. Camogli’s heartbeat is open to all, and best enjoyed in the company of another, or with a film camera loaded for fruition.
With its gold, pine and peach-colored houses, the town is a photographer’s wet dream. Shunning aside thoughts of responsibilities, waves of anxiety lifted from my shoulders like the trail end of a storm, light beams abound. Close your eyes, and dream of another place you’d like to be in. I dream of Camogli.