Nyotaimori

this is what my life in greece consists of: unbelievably clear blue water and shockingly hot beaches. on the ferry ride back from the samaria gorge to hora skfaion, i could not help but muse what a contrast this life is to the barely remembered one i used to live back in san francisco. i’ve only been here like 13 days, not even 2 weeks and i’ve already forgotten what life used to be like.

what working is like. what commuting is like. what cool weather feels like. what my friends look like.

this has become all i know, this water, this air, this sky, and these buildings perched on the edges of hills looking out over the aegean sea.

all i am is a scorched piece of flesh that lies on even hotter sands under a blazing sky and beside a sea of such indescribeable color, all i can do is call it blue. which is hardly justice enough.

so meteora brought me to a profound closeness with god. i’m joking. but only a little.

it was so beautiful, these soaring rocks like fingers reaching up to the heavens and begging for grace. the word ‘meteora’ itself means ‘hanging from the sky’. i like that these huge ideas are encompassed in single words.

anita, our tour guide on the GO Tour to delphi and meteora, told us the story of marathon, how the athenian ran all the way to the agora, said one word, and died. but that one word translated to ‘we have won’. again–a concept encompassing victory, jubiliation, and safety. it’s life. we have won, we have survived. and meteora is also life in a way because it’s an expression of life to have hope and to reach for a power beyond yourself. the holy life beside god. to live in this remote corner of the world, cut off from the most sensible thing we know–the ground–and instead live suspended halfway between heaven and earth, which is practically another hell anyway.

on july 9th, i was coming down the stairs at the art hotel on my way to breakfast. cleverly, i determined early on in my relationships with both my shoes and these stairs that the three of us would never be friends, much like water sluices off the back of a nuala or a water-proof raincoat, so my shoes with these stairs. so, of course, i go down barefoot. but on this fateful morning, i could see that there were people in the breakfast room at the bottom of the stairs. wanting to not appear rude and calloused, i slipped my flip flops back on and determined to be very careful on the remaining 15 steps.

i took 1 step and fell the next 8.

the one person who saw me do it was a heavy metal grunge rocker from the netherlands. he said nothing. i said, ‘ow’.

four days later, i look like i’ve been beaten. a lot. with large slabs of marble. i try to look like i’m suffering so the other tourists will feel bad for me and call child protective services. my mom tried to convince me that i’m no longer a child. i claimed the Rubber-Glue Defense and she looked suitably chastized.

in addition to this rapidly purpling bruise the size of my hand, i received an additional injury on the 12th at the amalia hotel in delphi when performing a valiant pool rescue mission. my drowning victim elected to sting me rather than thank me. i haven’t been stung by a bee since i was in 6th grade and belonged to a pool with the mookerjees. i remember some of the other horrors of 6th grade– the sideways ponytail, the MC Hammer pants with gigantic pink flowers on them–but i can honestly say that i didn’t remember what it felt like to be stung by a bee. so i am no bitter towards all bees. and marble steps. and possibly heavy metal rockers.

two blocks up marnis street on the corner of 3rd septembriou a homeless man lives at the bus station. today coming back from omonia square to the art hotel at 27 marnis street, i walked past the man as he was tying up his pants. the urine smell was strong and getting stronger and so i glanced down and around and saw the liquid treadmarks left by a shoe which it was patently obvious had tread in the urine after the shoe wearer had finished making the treacherous puddle in the first place. the whole corner of marnis and 3rd septembriou will always be urine, a damp shoe print, and a man tying up his pants.

at a restaurant called “giraffe” because apparently it is the animal with the largest heart and they “love to live” or “eat” or offer you cheese on your chips.

there’s a drink called a “giddy giraffe” though it doesn’t appear to have any alcohol in it and it makes me think gimpy over giddy all the same.

and i am reminded of how bad the british bacon is and how intoxicating the scent of malt vinegar hitting chips warm from the frying.

last day of work! last day of work!

it’s pretty exciting. also sad. so far i’ve gotten a present. i haven’t opened it yet because i’m vaguely uncomfortable getting a present and it seems rude to open it. and it’s wrapped so pretty.

soon i’ll be having pizza party lunch. yum.

and then next tuesday i’ll be flying to greece. now that is a present i am looking forward to unwrapping. we’re staying in athens for 4 days, istanbul for 4, on crete for 5, on santorini for 6, and london for 3. i’ve booked all the hotels, one of the ferries, a show in london, and a day tour to delphi. there’s going to be shopping, eating, and looking at ruins. alongside some sunsets, swimming, and mucho amounts of tanning.