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(May 25th-26th, Athens)
I placed myself safely on the third story window of Hostel Zeus watching the plethora of prostitutes outside the security of my window. The dodgy streets of Athens proved to be quite a disappointment, at least in the club hours of a weekend. The daylight brings tourist and travelers alike to fumble through the pages of their 16 euro tour-books with sticky baklava laden hands. Or perhaps it was just my hands that were covered in honey, not to mention my face, hair and oddly enough I managed to soak my ankles in the nectar.
"I am not a tourist, I am a traveler" ... Yep, those were my words.
"So Miss Acee, are you from here?"
""Well... no."
"My dear, you are a tourist."
I laughed at myself as upon arrival to Athens my first and most pressing priority was the fantasy of eating baklava in Greece. (Other then a toilet of course) I found my hostel and wandered 30 min or so stepping foot into about 15 pastry shops until I found the hole in the wall, untouristy, old Athenian woman who spoke no english beauty. I carried my prize to the first park I
Sacred Church
Prayer wishes, I thought I had to blow them out for it to come true but the priest was looking at me funny found, eating this masterpiece amongst what I now call "Heroin Square". It was everything I hoped for. I giggled aloud in ecstasy never realizing that the druggies beside me were equally as high on their own addictions. So I sat with my drug of choice and accomplished another one of my greater desires. Just so you all know, traveling to Greece to eat baklava amongst heroin addicts is worth it at all costs!
I came back to my lovely dorm (this is what we call a hyperbole kids). My room mate, a young German chap around 50 with graying hair had already failed at attempts at wooing me. His smell was atrocious and I avoided my small room at all costs. I luckily befriended a South African Sweetie by the name of Shane who upon offering his services to show me the internet cafe departed a mere 24 hours later. I believe I've talked myself into exhaustion. Actually I would describe the interaction more as a comedic marathon. My already round cheeks are swollen with remnants of his relentless humor. Quite a unique man of 22, witty, hilarious, sharp, and only parralled to that of a Brandon Lowery, not
Ancient Stuff
Um... not sure what we are looking at here. Old ruins of sorts. Yea, so there kinda cool. Really just wanting out of the city to mention adventurous to no end. Thank God for an afternoon Siesta in a magical park, reading "The Path to Love," basking under the Acropolis. I learned many useful facts of South African travel which could ultimately save my life. I do hold tight to my divine synchronicites on this trip. We split a bottle of red wine and danced to Tracy Chapman on the roof of our Athens hostel, parted ways with a big hug of thanks and on to a ferry for Aginea.
(May 27, Aginea)
Ever heard of Aginea? No? Neither had I. Not in tour books, no stories. Just a random pick. About an hour out of Athens I found that its almost all Greecian vacationers. No tourists and by no means any American blonde girls. I was lucky enough to keep in touch with several of my buddies I've met so far and the Beautiful Ukrainian known as Dymtri is traveling the Greecian Islands with me for about a week. Then yet another magical moment riding the ass of a ferry over the blue Mediterranean waters sharing an ipod. On comes "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Brother Iz when all of a sudden Seagulls
swarm around the ship, dancing in sync to the song. We both laugh out loud to each other and continue sitting in silence. We hit the town on a Sun. night on the island famous for pistachio trees but not before downing vodka in the basement hotel room singing more old school hip hop and having a waltz to "Hotel California." Getting from point A to B in this story is somewhat blurry but mainly we ventured to a local hot spot... were the only ones to dance to Belinda Carlislie "Heaven is a Place on Earth," as if we didn't stand out enough, found a late night eatery, split an unfathomably amazing chocolate walnut crepe and avoided death walking narrow streets home. Whew! Then on to a rainy day of ferry travel headed to the Cyclades.
(May 28th, Paros)
Paros, Paros, Paros, Paradise, Perfection. If only my ability to write was as profound as this place, then and only then could I possibly capture the honest awe I feel here. I know my pictures will never do justice. I never until this moment believed in perfection. Some unattainable ideal. There is always that thought that something could be
Secret resturant
Random street where local man gives amazing wine to me out of plastic cup and tell me history of Greece in broken English. Then calls me his friend. better then. I'm constantly shifting here and forced to change beliefs everyday. I honestly found perfection. I would walk the cobblestone streets from whitewashed house to another with their cobalt blue windows knowing now why the Grecian flag has these colors and seeing them mirrored in the reflection of the magical Mediterranean Sea. I keep using the term magical. God how many synonyms must I use for "magical" If you can think of them I'm sure it will define Greece as well. D and I arrived after dark to a family run hotel. Perfection. I ran instantly to the Sea, dipped my feet in a ritualistic dance and strolled the streets of Paros. Perfection. We found a lively perch right on the ocean amongst multi-colored lit trees and a restaurant thumping eclectic, unique, and perfect music. Perfection. At midnight we found the local seafood eatery and split Grecian Wine, calamari and stingray, which by the way was quite yummy. Perfection. Found our way home only to awake to the most blue I've ever seen in my life. An endless blue sky, water, eyes. In awe ways, Perfection.
(May 29th, Paros)
Morning had broken without a cloud in the sky.
Overlooking Athens
Walking the cobblestone streets. Worth the view D and I decided to rent some bicycles to see what we could see. We only made a 15 min. trek before we were captivated enough to stop. A cobalt cove with 2 or so people was our choice for the day. Jesus the sea is beautiful here. I ran fully clothed into the water. Swam on and off for what seemed like hours. Swam so far out into the sea you couldn't make out my human body but the real beauty of it was being 50 or so feet deep in the water and still seeing every inch of the ocean floor. A small hippie looking cafe sat magically on the beach. Cactus, tropical hammocks, enchanting music, amazing food. The family that ran the place welcomed our business with free drinks of ouzo. How Appropriate. I can't remember how many times D and I would look at each other speechless and in awe. Giving it a few minutes saying things like, "can you believe this place," "I wonder where the locals go for vacation?" Bask in sun for hours come home and drench in olive oil. Perfection.
Then reality check. upon checking emails I'm notified about my aunts
Shane
www.98dayafrica.co.za passing. Death. Taken aback by this unexpected tragedy I felt guilty for my moments of perfection, with the services in a few days and me unable to attend, whilst I'm lounging on a beach in paradise, eating deliciousness and having the time of my life. I spent the evening glued to a pay-phone contacting family. I learned something. Just like every other aspect of my trip, staying in a constant state of surrender will allow everything to happen with fluidity and ease. That being said I will surrender, place a rose in the cobalt waters for her, bury petals in remembrance and allow even death as another beautiful lesson of my life journey here.
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