I spat in the direction of a car after having a heated discussion with its driver. Non of us could hear what the other was yelling but we both understood that we did not agree how to drive the streets of Napoli. The night before I had a very short but heated quarrel with a waiter, whom I told to “tranquil, boy!” before demonstratively handing his tip to a dumbfounded cellist and walking away. The waiter was +50 years old by the way.
I was tired. Hungry. Knocked out by the ten hours on a ferry from Igoumenitsa to Bari. And I hadn’t stayed in the same bed more than one night for almost two weeks. So I took a few trains from a little town north of Rome and up to Saint-Raphaël in southern France, where I hung out with Liv and Naja and their parents. Here the little sweethearts are watching Egon the Cycling Mosquito (no relation to my project) but we also went to the beach, read books and ate ice cream. And they didn’t talk about cycling at all. Brilliant.
Waiting for the train in Genoa Piazza Principe.