18 Oct 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
10/18 Cefalu, Italy
The storm passed through very quickly. When the sun rose I gathered up my things and without even saying goodbye I headed down the volcano like I was escaping. I had just come out of a sulfur cloud, was coated in mud and must have smelled like shit. I sure felt like shit. When I finally made it back down to the residence below they too were cover in mud. I’m glad somebody could laugh at this. The first two people I saw were in the process of shoveling themselves out of the mud. When they noticed me coming down off the volcano they began laughing uncontrollably. Pointing to the top and then back at me gesturing that I was one crazy asshole to spend the night up there. When I reached the dock where I was originally dropped off I laid out what I could under the sun to dry. I laid there on my back and waited for the next boat heading back to the mainland. The sea was still very rough. I could hear the waves hitting the shore in the distance. When the boat finally arrived the rough conditions caused a the crew to struggle getting the boat’s ropes around the dock’s cleats. The first rope thrown was grabbed by an elderly man who attempted to secure it to the cleat to my left. The second he got it secured the rope snapped and like a huge rubber band and cut that man’s leg off like a knife cutting through butter. My heart just dropped and before I could act two men had picked him and his severed leg up and had placed him into a small cart or wheel barrel and quickly wheeled him off to see the doctor. The images of my German friend biting on a leather strap and the sound of that leg coming off resonated in my head for some time. I couldn’t shake it. My prayers when out to him. It was a good thing they had no mirrors on that boat. I could only imagine what I looked like, not to mention that I could smell myself. I needed a shower and everything I owned needed to be cleaned.
I went straight from the boat to a train and then straight to the train’s toilet. While heading into Cefalu I stood in front of the sink for a good hour cleaning up whatever I could. People sure treat you differently based on their visual perception of you, or in my case the smell of eggs. I spent hours walking the street trying to find myself a room. Once they discovered I was an American they refused me accommodations. In some cases I actually got threats and left me wondering what this was all about. Tried Palermo, but only wore myself out walking for hours until I gave up and slept on the street. As it turned out circumstances kept me from returning the blanket I stole but it was still damp and didn’t keeping me all that warm. I wandered around the city until I reached a point where I just needed to get the hell out. I boarded a late train heading back towards Italy. One stop after another I attempted to find myself a room. Nobody would, I mean nobody would give me a room. I started jotting down all the clues in my head trying to turn comments into complete sentences. It appeared that there was some negative dialog between the American Government and the Italians. I was told that the US military took into custody the perpetrators of the hijacked cruise ship and handed over those criminals to the Italian Secret Police. From what I understand they apparently let them escape through the underground into Yugoslavia. In their retaliation it seems I was tied to their whipping post. Thanks for the hospitality.
It was their off season and every one of their building were almost empty but still nobody gave me a break. My head itched so badly. I found myself again and again telling myself not to scratch and kept it covered under my beanie. Reggio Di Calarbia and then into Taranto. I spent the entire day walking streets, or on and off trains. I walked along the shore and gazed into all the buckets full of fresh fish. Each bucket contained another surprise. Still I made an effort not to talk to anybody and just quietly passed through. “No I can’t give you a room” the desk clerk said and then handed me a map of the city. He penciled out where I might find a room. That seemed like a positive sign and I prematurely began thinking that things were about to change but that map only led me to the more disturbed. The next hotel’s manager threatened me “Better keep one eye open”. So with that I decided to continue down the road and searched for somebody who was not so friendly. A man not only defines himself by the actions he takes but the actions he chooses not to take. I was very depressed and was considering heading back to Rome and hopping on the first plane home. Discrimination in all of its forms is a terrible thing. We are social by nature and any attempt to place someone into a position where they are to feel inferior, to me is a form of brainwashing, “So fuck them” I make my own path. I still had some cards in my hand and since I’d already made a few bets, no one else had raised, so I thought I’d stay in the game. I knew something good would eventually come from experiences like this. Thanks for everything and I’ll show myself out.
It was about two in the morning when I finally found a place that was being managed by a woman. I explained that I had a train to catch early in the morning and I’d be out as quick as a cat. She agreed to let me have a room only if I would be out by five that next morning and paid twenty five dollars, which was easily twice the going rate. I washed everything I owned and scrubbed myself clean. Then like most men in that situation, I pleasured myself and went right to sleep. A knock on the door awoke me at a quarter to five and reminded me to get the hell out. I felt like I had never slept and was still as tired as when I arrived. Everything I owned was still damp, even the clothes I was forced to wear. I purchased some bakery items and headed for the train station. It seemed like I was getting a second wind. Even though my clothes were damp it felt good to be clean.
I decided Brindisi was my next stop. I still had an active rail pass which provided free crossing to Greece. My rail pass and one dollar would allow me to sleep on the boat’s deck. It appeared I was alone in that venture. Everybody else in line was getting themselves a room. Sitting in a small café along the main street a pair of young ladies asked if they could join my table. Two young Canadians with sleeping bags and glad to know they were not the only one’s sleeping on the deck. We’ll there is a silver lining. I explained that all I had was the blanket and they were concerned that it might be too cold for me out on that deck, so they suggested that I should sleep between the two of them and they would do their best to keep me warn. When we reached the deck of the boat I claimed a good spot in the corner with an overhang just in case it rained. We laid out our bags and then one young lady and then another enlarged our circle. By the time the boat departed it seemed as if every good looking young lady was sleeping out on the deck.
There you are the only rose, living all alone, all those lovely companions, either faded of have flown
like you at times I follow, when friendships all have frayed, steppin out into the light but dwell at home in shade
Many times, that heart lay withered, when fond friends choice to go but with each painful thought, that’s conquered
another bud begins to grow.
