Greetings From Greece


After 40+ hours of traveling via car, subway, planes, shuttle, ferry, buses and walking, I finally arrived in Oia, a small cliff-side town on the island of Santorini in Greece. I'm staying at a bookstore owned by friends of friends, and in exchange for my boarding and food stipend, I help run the store with a few others who come and go between travels. I'll be here for the next six weeks, and so far my days have consisted of being molested by the bookstore cat and kitten, eating delicious Greek food, talking to travelers and exploring the island. The bookstore itself is incredible, built like some ten year old's tree fort-esque fantasy. Case in point, I sleep in a loft bed hidden behind a pair of hinged bookshelves.

Yesterday I felt I finally settled into my new island life, when I took the day to hike out to a beach. I had gotten the inside scoop about a great beach known mostly to the locals that promised to be incredible. Having grown up in a beach town myself I'm always looking to discover prime examples during my travels abroad.

I set out on foot for a five mile hike along rocky sea side cliffs and through beautiful mountain ensconced countrysides. I really wasn't prepared for how beautiful the landscape was. And was lost in a whirlwind of aesthetic impressions and hypnotizing vistas.

After a couple hours I finally arrived at the beach, there was no one else but me and the smashing waves and dark earth. I undressed and walked into the warm water. The waves thrashed violently from the stiff winds, sending towers of spray shooting up against black rocks. I swam past the shore break and floated among the muted calm of the swelling ocean. Of course I couldn't leave until I appeased ten year old Ali and body surfed a few of the larger waves.

The walk back was soaked in the light of a beautiful sky swallowing sunset, appreciated over a bowl of fish soup from a restful outdoor cafe. I think it might be curious to point out that throughout the entire day of walking and swimming I had the Grizzly Bear song Knife stuck in my head.

Grizzly Bear - Knife


Walking down the black pebbled beach and across the grassy country roads singing it out loud to myself.

The walks, beach, and cafe were all similarly deserted of people other than the squat smiling old woman who served my soup, the only other company I had during my outing was the occasional barking dog.

On the way back a group of stray dogs on the road rushed towards me barking and snarling. The day of walking and swimming had left me far too peaceful and aesthetically overwhelmed to feel anything close to fear or anger, and I met their blood thirsty charge with a loud shout in a excited playful tone "Pouch! Come here!" while bending down and slapping my thighs. Immediately their snarling faces turned to confused stares and after an obligatory sniff or two, were on their way.

Further on I was struck by how the setting sun played off the architecture of a small house along the road. I began setting up a shot with my camera and noticed behind me, far up a driveway, a German Shepard eying me with interest. My sight then fell across a sign on the front gate in Greek showing a dog, and under it fierce looking red letters foretelling danger. I thought him far enough away that I had time to react should he start barking and running towards me, and continued setting up my shot. When I came away from the viewfinder to pull the dark slide, I saw with muted surprise that the dog was lying by my feet. I took the shot and nervously put my camera back in my bag. I was about to leave when I noticed the calm endearing manner with which he was laying, watching me, and I felt a rare urge to pet him. Having always had bad luck with dogs however I didn't want to risk moving my hand towards his face only to find him suddenly burst out into snarls and sharp teeth. So I poured some water from my bottle into my hand for him to drink. He didn't understand so I drank it myself and poured another. He figured it out and came over to lap the water from my cupped palm. He drank with such relish I poured another. When he finished he continued licking all over my hand, I considered giving him more and found myself thinking how this small bottle of water is all I had to stay hydrated for a ten mile walk and ocean swim and found myself begrudging him any more. I immediately felt ashamed of my selfishness and gave him the rest. I sat down to put my socks and shoes on my feet since they dried from the walk. Having already won over his affections with the water, my new friend was delighted to have me sitting down on his level and started wrestling me with kisses and hugs. My previous dog prejudice melted under his enthusiastic delight and I pet him as the occasional car passed with drivers smiling over seeing a young man siting on the grass, petting a dog, alongside an abandoned country road.

When I finally got up to leave a panic seized him and he desperately jumped up pawing me, and lightly biting on my bag and hands to keep me longer. I was annoyed by the bites and repeated "No" and walked away faster. When it was clear I wasn't going to stay, he turned back and I watched with enormous sympathy as he slinked back home by himself. I suddenly had a revelation. The dog was me, reflected back with startling symbolic clarity. Leaping and biting to hold on, out of frustration and loneliness, not wanting to let go a connection waited for so long. Like that dog I need to learn how to let go gracefully. Besides who knows if I might someday happen down that same road, maybe then I'll have something more than a handful of water and five minutes of affection to spare. But even during this sentimental reverie my inner cynic (realist?) answered with those well known words:

Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I guess we all have a beach or a bed to get to, biting on in the mean time to transient pleasures. It's sad when you have to give up what you've longed for so long. But what's the alternative? To suffer through desire, closing your eyes to life, praying to not feel or want? No, I have to take pleasure where I can find it, and then when it's time, let it pass.