10 Sep 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
09/10 Portofino, Italy
We traveled into Cote D’azur, then into San Remo. The weather was just perfect. It couldn’t have been any better with the white sand, blue water and cypresses dancing in the breeze. Another day beckoned us to swim. We stopped off in Ventimilia in search for an open bank. There too we hung around the waterfront and just let the days slip away. We arrived in Genova late one night and ran into a bit of difficulty locating a room. This is par for the course. We walked quite a bit and discovered very few room accommodations to choose from. We began to get tired and since we hadn’t eaten all day food also became a priority. We found vacancies at a less than desirable place but when the guy at the front desk offered us a discount in a local restaurant and we bit. He explained it was run by a friend and was just around the corner. That was ideal since I had passed my daily quota for walking miles long ago. The food wasn’t that bad but they ripped us off a bit on the bottle of wine making up for any discount they provided on the food. I didn’t like the fact that they thought we didn’t notice so I decided to let them know I was disappointed. The waiter tried to explain that the label didn’t represent the contents of the bottle, whatever in the fuck that meant. After I expressed my point to the waiter Jim felt that he also needed to add his two cents. Jim just wouldn’t leave the incident at the restaurant’s door. On and on and on, he went and when I asked him to just drop the fucking subject he decided to redirect his anger toward other subjects. Somebody must be blamed in order for Jim to move on. Then out of the blue it was my fault because I alone picked the restaurant and Jim didn’t notice the nose ring he wore.
The last straw had been left with Jim’s sleeping bag and since then I’ve simply been waiting. I no longer had any desire to continue along that path or waste any more time dealing with Jim’s attitude. It was over. It was evident that alcohol and Jim just couldn’t coexist and maintain any type of normalcy. I explained to Jim that I was leaving in the morning. I left all the maps and guides I no longer needed on the table between our beds. Read it forwards, backwards, or across, it still spells the same thing, relax, take a breath and everything is not a competition. That was absolutely the worst bed I had ever tried to sleep in and eventually I just gave up trying. It was about two in the morning when I began packing up my stuff. I left Jim and his attitude in bed and said my goodbyes unnoticed. The streets were dark and empty but were now mine alone. I had no feelings of regret like in Ireland just the sense of freedom. Along the river I had learned to be patient and to tolerate the actions and abrasive attitudes that in the past would have set me off then and there. My only immediate plan was to follow the good weather. The rain had left Switzerland so I decided to head north.
The echoes of my footsteps, reminds me I’m alone, down this endless street of silence, rains a melody, of home
and it’s this emptiness that fills my steps, for these nights I’ve slept, alone
These streets, there all wet with rain, I stand alone here, callin out in vain, can’t ya hear me through the silence
callin out your name
The shadows shorten, as each street light nears, a passing spotlight on loneliness, another tear
Each day goes by, like this walk through the rain, though my hearts and dreams, consume me
each day still ends the same
These streets, there all wet with rain, I stand alone here, callin out in vain
can’t ya hear me through the silence, callin out your name
