Although it does sound like the perversion of a fortune-cookie message, the above wisdom actually came from Heather, an American teacher at Athens College, and her British husband Russell. This was their way of telling us that things in Greece often don’t go the way you want or expect them to and the best thing you can do is play like it’s all one big adventure. They’re right, of course. There are many days I wonder how anything gets done in this country. Some days procuring a loaf of bread seems like a really big accomplishment. But then there are days like yesterday when you forget about all the chaos, the bureaucracy, and the insanity, and you think, “Ahh, this is the life.”
The nine o’clock ferry took us to the island of Aegina, an oasis of serenity only an hour away from Athens. We didn’t really do anything, but it was perfect. We strolled through the town, sampling the pistachios grown all over the island, peering through the windows at displays of handcrafted jewelry and ceramics, and grabbing a few items for a picnic lunch. Late morning we headed out on foot along the road running beside the coast. The island was gorgeous. It wasn’t Hawaii or the Bahamas; there were no real beaches to speak of. The coast was kind of ragged, and fir trees, cacti and scraggly desert plants dotted the landscape. But the water was sapphire and turquoise perfection. Before we found a place to settle for the afternoon, we came across a man who, from our vantagepoint, seemed to be pounding a bench with a stick. We went closer and discovered that he was actually beating octopuses. When we asked if we could watch, he excitedly began to tell us all about what he was doing, taking us on to his thirty-three year old boat with the hit-and-miss engine that puffed like a freight train, showing us the chandelier-shaped hook at the bottom of a long string tied with various lures used to land his catch, and letting us gingerly touch the octopuses. Dionyssus (as we learned he was called) told us that this was only a weekend hobby, and he caught the sea creatures not for sale but to give to friends who enjoyed them. We must have talked to this man, who on weekdays wore the clothes of a bank manager, for at least half and hour, at the end of which he gave us his number and told us that if we called him he’d be more than happy to give us an octopus too. When we left him, we were carrying a bunch of grapes he had washed off for us in the sea and presented to us telling us that he grew them in his yard. As we stood talking to Dionyssus, who treated us not as strangers or foreigners but as long-lost friends, and watched the shrimp, crab and fish darting through the pools of water at our feet, felt the sun warm on our skin, and smelled the sea on the breeze, the world seemed small and personable and at peace. The rest of the day we spent swimming in crystal water, snoozing on the warm stones, and meandering slowly around the island.
When we got back to Athens twelve hours after we had left, the city was as chaotic as ever. A week of ambiguous work awaited me. But it didn’t really matter. Weird shit will happen. Every day will be an adventure. And there’s an island only an hour away where the only thing to do is let the day simply and joyfully live.
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