of riomaggiore, dutch boys and loud italians.

after packing and a quick shower, at 12 i headed into the square under the aparment to get a last breath of the cinque terre night air here at riomaggiore. the sky was a midnight blue black and littered with stars. from the edge of the square i looked down into the little dock and the restaurant accompanying it. i received a warm goodbye from a group of italians, competely unaware of my presence, down at the docks standing with their hands pressed to their hearts, singing loudly, joyously and presumably under the influence of some cinque terre red wine, the italian nationa anthem. the sea was so clear, in the night light too i could still see the rocks of the sea bed for a couple of feet until it got too deep and too dark.

there was i, barefoot, braless, hair out into the breeze, wine in hand, on my own, smiling to myself. it had been a good five days here. a very good five days.

i had a wonderful couple of days with the dutch boys. they were intolerably, how to say, adhesive. i miss dereks very charming ways, that are obviosuly a compensation for some roughness he decided to smooth out with charisma. but he was, with effort, smart and even forcibly metrosexual. and while i usually push aside and think lowly of those to whom attributes do not naturally come causing them to try, i found myself being able to appriciate his efforts in more ways than one.

brian was wise and calm and increasingly self aware. he was the one who didnt need to try at all, and while his nature wasnt silky smooth and sultry, as was derek's, he was effortless. he was fun and accepting. he had much to say on practically everything, but didnt say much but for a few words that made enough sense to cancel out long paragraphs and endless sentences, the way i usually react.

jerome, young and horny of course. while i wont miss hearing him sneak up on roxanne in the night to get a little feel up, i did enjoy the few conversations we had, and i wish i may have been able to spend longer with him. he spoke with such inspiration of all sorts of different adventure sports that i may have on impulse decided to go snowboarding, or some sort of thing like that.

i am surprised by how much i miss them, given that i spent just three days with them. but they made it memorable and very happy for me. i would thank them, but i somehow didnt feel the absolute need to over-put silly sitiuations. maybe i will go to holland one day. i know i want to!

the day they left, the four americans that came in the place of the dutch boys dragged me along with them for dinner and made it wonderful for me. i got to see my first and last cinque terre sunset. it was spectacular, sitting high up on some creek that took alot of breath to reach, but as one of them said, worth every step. and we sat there, with plastic glasses of cheap red wine and watched until the sun went down and then strolled up via colombo to get hazelnut and coconut gelato.

walking back from the square, still in earshot of the jolly italians below, i felt full and happy. the old fashioned street lights in the square were glowing gold and the breeze was cool and wrapped around me like sheets. waslking through, i felt like i could be in some obscure fellini film, if only there was a boy playing the harmonium here, something like autumn leaves, and i was naked, cigarette in a long silver filter and my lesbian lover was standing at the top of the stairs in just the bed throws, waiting to walk back with me to our apartment, from which you could see multitudinous shadows of people moving in slow and fast sensual movements and you could almost taste the sweat.

but it was just me, fully clothed, no music, no lover and no orgy waiting for me. just me, on my own being who it is i can be for now, walking back to the uncomfortable bed in the tiny apartment that has no lock on the door. and as i watched orange embers fly with the breeze in the dark of the night, i was still and again, very simply content.