Three down, x more to go!
Yes I’m back, in several little pieces, from my third (but short) trip to Greece. With another knapsack full of strange tales, heart-warming encounters and surreal experiences…and within hours of landing back home, the decision to go right back again as soon as possible! Though the last time that happened, it took me five years.
What IS it with Greece that just sucks you up and won’t spit you out? Not that I want to be spat out, not in the least, but even so? I sat pondering this as I gazed out at the Bourtzi (Venetian fortress) across the water in the original capital of Greece, postcard-pretty Nafplio. Trying to crack that one for nearly half a day over several ouzos didn’t work, of course, because the mellower I got, the further away drifted any remotely logical reasons. Present-day Greece is not a locale that enourages logic; the ancients did too much of it in the days of the great philosophers and now it’s the age of anarchy. I guess that’s why I feel so completely at home in Greece; that, and the fact I’m convinced I’ve lived many past lives there. Because something drags me back, I don’t know what. And I go willingly every time, no kicking and screaming. Must have been a GOOD past life.
I’ve had all manner of eventful detours both on the way to, and within Greece, every single time I’ve visited. Including missed flights that involved buying new tickets; reluctant 24-hour stops at ugly airports thereafter, waiting for the next flight to Athens; even strikes that have precluded the usual tourist visit to the Acropolis- yes, three times!
And this time to top it all, I had the most bizzare invitation- from a highly articulate Greek with an American accent who lives in Copenhagen and speaks ten languages who talked 2 hours straight all the way on the bus ride to Nafplio- to spend the night with him- and his mother!- at their family home in the Old City. He was convinced I was an Israeli spy, and kept talking to me in Japanese to see if I would respond. And then he actually made my bed so I could lie in it. All the while muttering about getting the crease right down the center. Decidedly OCD. Yes.
The sad part was his real reason for being in Nafplio that particular weekend, but I won’t go into that now because it doesn’t rate flippancy.
So to get back to my inexplicable connect to Greece and the way-out-of-left-field experiences it always brings me, I think I’m just a junkie for strange, heart-warming and surreal. And though these pretty much follow me anywhere I go, they are at their Dali-esque best in Greece. I’m totally hooked. What to do.
I do believe each of these events rates a whole story to itself, and I’m not sure I’m going to put them all up here, I’m still too busy tracking all the post-its I jotted them down on. But tell you what, I’ll let you know when they publish the book so you can go and buy it, then I can go and buy an island, that old forgotten dream I found abandoned on a shelf and dusted off just a few days ago.
And since I still can’t post pictures to this blog, maybe I’ll just put those in the book too, as there’s no saying when my blog will go AWOL again and I’d hate to lose the pictures as well. Losing the blog was worse than a 5-month miscarriage. And it’s only back because I was finally able to stare down the wicked Cyclops who manages it, and prod it into resurrecting the site after who knows how long. For who knows how long. What? No, of COURSE I don’t back-up my files!!! I should???