Greece, Part 2
I am in the fortunate position of making more money than I need. So I blew some of it last year on a vacation. Alone. To Greece. For 2 weeks.I was still pretty heart-broken and down about a break-up that occurred a few months prior; I needed to do something for myself, to prove that I was still sufficient, independent, capable, etc etc. I chose Greece mainly b/c airfare was cheaper there than it was to Australia.
I had my first moment of panic while in the boarding line - what the hell was I thinking? I shy away from public transportation in my own city; what made me think I could navigate a foreign country? Theoretically, I could just stay home for 2 weeks...no one would know...Luckily, I overcame that and forced myself onto the plane.
I'm not the storyteller I would need to be to convey the awesome-ness of being in Greece. Alone. For two weeks. There were lonely times and fun times; hot times and yummy food.
I remember lying in my twin bed in my over-priced room in Mykonos, bawling, writing in my journal with the window open and the breeze gushing in and the sound of the nightclubs pouring in with it.
There was a day tour in Santorini, where I met two Australian kids my age, who I spent the day with. There was the beautiful sunset, appreciated more by the HUNDREDS of huge steps - uphill - that had to be climbed to get there. Each step required about 3 human steps to climb. Water never tasted so good.
There was the smug American/Columbian guy in the Athens hostel, who was pompous and supercilious and rude.
There was my second moment of panic, stepping off the ferry in Mykonos, at night, with throngs of people waving hotel/camping signs, and no idea where I was going to stay that night. The next day, there were pelicans on the streets, wandering with the tourists in the shopping district.
My first topless beach.
The two women, also guests, in my hotel/hostel in Santorini, who offered me a piece of fruit, cold water, and a clean glass when I arrived.
I have a great picture of an old, weathered fisherman, clad in a yellow rain poncho, fishing on a rock behind some stores. The water was beautiful but fierce; he waved at me and motioned me over, but I was content to stay in the shallows and watch.
Getting a drink in Crete with an Australian girl I just met; having her at my side, helping me decide which $35 silk rug I wanted to purchase.
Walking off my final ferry, back in Athens, but at the other side of the port, and having another moment of panic - am I in the right city? I have a plane to catch!
Coming home, beautifully tan, sick of my clothes and living out of a suitcase for 2 weeks; showering back in my apt; climbing into bed, after the requisite phone calls to the 'rents and the sister; 'napping' for 12 hours straight, resting in the comfort of my own bed, my own town, my own space. Knowing that I did it all myself: paid for it with my money from my job; my planning; my courage; knowing that even without R in my life, I could be okay, I could see beauty, I could rejoice. That was priceless.
Good times, as they say. I want to go back, again, do it elsewhere. And I will.
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