The town, carved from the mountainside, is terraced like the vineyards-- streets of cobbled steps. He wants to stay here where he's had his revelation, where nothing seems out of sight of the sea, but the only pension is closed due to a death. At a restaurant, he orders a bottle of mineral water and figs with prosciutto. The waiter speaks a little Englishand tells him about an apartment for rent, but it might not be a place the man would want to stay.
"Why not?" he askes.
"No vista di mare." All Americans, the waiter says knowingly, want a vista di mare. "That's why it's so inexpensive."
"What does it look out on?" he asks the waiter.
"Mountains."

VISTA DI MARE by STUART DYBEK (Chicago One Book read collctn his short stories)
this is end ~ last half (well bit less) otherwise not altered