19 Aug 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, 0 Comments

08/19 Nazare, Portugal


The train station was a short walk outside of town but after only about fifty yards or so Jim began complaining.  I was at the point where I didn’t even hear him anymore.  He threatened to pack his shit up, fly home and didn’t like my “Go or stay but just stop complaining because you’re giving me a headache” response.  My thumb attracted a truck that had also picked up a pair of French girls who, like us, got off at the campsite.  (more…)

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    Usually behind a cup of coffee waiting for the world around me to wake up I entered today’s thoughts about yesterday’s activities into my travel journal. I’m not a writer, so I’ll apologize in advance if I jump around or seem confused. These are just the thoughts of a young man who left his possessions behind and who believes that getting lost is how one finds oneself.

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