The next day was Derek's birthday. We spent the morning getting the keys back to Locanda Daniel in Florence, then sat on a curb eating cool, creamy yogurt with fresh fruit. We were looking for the "The Cracked Kettle," a place I read an article about in the Chicago Tribune some months ago. Boasting over 300 beers, including some of the most rare and expensive in the world. When we found it we picked up two Trappist darks for 3 euros. They were cold, and tasted good in the early afternoon. Lazy day after that, a chocolate birthday croissant with 20 candles by the dock for Derek. The sun was dropping quickly, and we decided to have a last joint while we watched the sun set on our trip.
The high was relaxed, as promised by the description. I soon fell into the slow rocking rhythm of the dock. The sun's reflection glinted off the dark water in every shade of orange, then red as the sun bled into the horizon, painting the water as it fell. Flying fish soared across the sky. Whether they were real or not I could not tell, and did not want to. Finally the sun went to sleep and the wind grew cold as the sea grew black, and I knew the trip was over. I was overwhelmed with a bittersweet feeling as I climbed down to the lower deck, and into my bunk. Looking out the porthole, taking a deep breath, and tasting the salt, I lay on my back and closed my eyes, falling asleep to the gentle cradling of the Avanti.
End of European Trip - 6/10/07
And there it is. My hot apple pie has grown cold here at the Copper Kettle in Boise, ID, and the booths have filled up with a dinner crowd. The rain has stopped and the drops on the shrubbery outside the window have slid off. Time seems to be speeding up again. Tomorrow I go to McCall, ID. Tomorrow I leave the planet.
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