Athens and Mykonos (or, The Past Few Weeks, Part One)

Oh, what a whirlwind the last few weeks have been. Three trips sandwiched between two hurricanes, two packed bags that never became fully unpacked—and for weeks sat open like a jaw, the insides of a stomach; nearly digested experiences—filled with beach sand, rumpled bathing suits still cold and wet, a bent up straw hat, two Turkish towels, a funeral program, a black dress.

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We began in Athens on a Friday. After landing we took a cab that dropped us at a narrow mews. We pulled our luggage behind us, down a hill, Alistair and I, both of us observing the mix of old and new buildings around us. Alistair has been almost everywhere, almost to every continent (on a world tour with his college acapella group) but this is his first time in Greece, just like it was mine.

I booked us a boutique hotel named the Hotel Shila. I booked without much oversight from Alistair, so showing him it felt like unwrapping a surprise. It is a 1920s building with just a few rooms and an entryway that is warm and stylish. Instead of checking in at a busy, impersonal, desk, we sat in a parlor next to a piano, and the hotelier at a dining room table. She took us to our first floor room, showing us our own private garden. It was exceptionally well done: the bathrooms were painted matte black with natural stone faucet handles, tasteful brass accents and copper hammered sinks. The tub was big enough to swim in and shaped like an egg.

It was a hot day. We walked in search of lunch and coffee, the priority before anything else. We climbed a few of Athens hilly streets, and found both at a little Italian restaurant with an outdoor terrace. I'd read on the blogs that ordering a "Freddo" in Athens will make you look like a local. After our main dish I asked the waiter for a Freddo and he smiled. He taught me how to specify how much sugar I wanted in Greek. Ten minutes later and he placed before me a tall glass half full of Greek coffee, ice, and about three inches of foam. It was delicious and I drained it. He asked me what I thought and smiled. I felt like I'd earned his respect. "We have a saying, 'you will drink a Freddo for three hours,' because you will be awake for three hours." It was true, I didn't need my post-lunch-after-a-long-haul nap. We went to the hotel for bath then dressed to climb to the top of the Acropolis.

On our walk I tried to categorize Athens. It wasn't like any other metropolitan city I'd seen. Long stretches of businesses in townhouse-like buildings, were interrupted by the gardens and fronds. Urban but exotic. A random ruin, here or there. Occasionally, like on the approach to the Acropolis, a beautiful piazza. The clock struck six. There was a changing of the guard.

For me, in very old places, time squeezes like an accordion. The same is true at the Acropolis. How could I be standing in a place so old, and how can its columns, bricks and structures still be here? We ascended in the dust. There were many families, couples, lots of Americans on the walk up. At the very top we were surrounded by the ruins that you've likely seen in photographs. I never noticed in those photos how high up you are, below us the city, the sea, and the forest.

We climbed down when the sun was setting. We were hungry but our walk passed us by Hadrian's Library, so we made a stop. We walked to dinner at a lively place where we had to show our proof of vaccine. The owner, a fiery woman with jet black hair, yelled at her chefs. Back at the hotel we sat in the garden and planned our early morning ferry ride to the ritzy island of Mykonos, our true destination. (The trip had been planned by Alistair's friends, who invited us to stay at the opulent villa they rented. Athens was a pit stop.)

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The next morning we had breakfast in bed: Greek yogurt with the hotel's special Heather honey, pastries and bottled smoothies. The queue at the ferry was pure chaos as we expected, even at 5 o'clock in the morning. I popped two Dramamine as we sped east. Soon after arriving to Mykonos we were reminded of the restaurant owner from the night before: we queued up for a cab and the driver at the front of the line was yelling at a pair of teenage girls. The tourists, ourselves included, were stunned. The driver walked up and asked us where we were going:

"Blu Blu lounge," we said quickly. I swear, I was stammering. I was afraid of being yelled at. He put us in the car with the teenagers and proceeded to scold them in Greek. They yelled back at him. Then he turned to us, and asked us about our trip as if nothing happened in between. (We would learn later on that Mykonos, despite the large amount of tourists, only had 35 registered taxis and the drivers at this time of year were at the end of their rope.)

Alistair picked the Blu Blu Lounge to kill time before checking in to the rental house. It was the perfect introduction to Mykonos. Our table faced an open window to the water. I ordered my second Freddo.

Alistair's friends arrived and told us to meet them at the villa. All the roads were narrow, only big enough for one car, and only little tiny rock walls between the roads and the cliffs. Our villa was a white stone, traditional Greek house that had been expanded to sleep 14. The first thing you see entering the gate is the deck, beyond it a hot tub spilling into an Infinity pool, a garden of brush and vegetables, and then the sea, from a nearly uninterrupted view. With that and the private chefs for three meals a day, our friends were spoiling us.

We had a glorious week that went fast. We napped, swam, watched the sunsets, ate liberally. My favorite thing in the world is a cove beach, waveless with clear water, so I arranged a morning at the beach. I climbed out of the sea and a local man, red with sunburn from head to toe, asked me if I'd been stung.

"My leg is stinging, but I thought it was because I shaved?" I said. I pointed to the spot.

"You are red there. I think you were stung. The sea is full of jellyfish," he explained. He said the wind and weather effect how many jellyfish populate the waters. Alistair and I had just jumped in unknowingly, ignorance is bliss. I didn't even know I had been stung.

Another afternoon Alistair and I booked a boat tour that stopped us on a secluded beach. I've never swam in the in deep ocean or sea waters off of a boat, and I don't know what came over me, but as the anchor fell I climbed down the ladder on the side of the boat and dove in. Alistair and I swam about a hundred meters to the beach (I had a noodle for help) then sat on a beach without music, telephones, or structures. It was just a rock in the sea with a strip of sand. Later the boat would port at Delos, an ancient city considered sacred grounds, to tour for an hour before returning to Mykonos.

We went into town a few times to buy linen. We had lunch at Scorpio's one day, the Mykonos' "place to be." On the night our friend's college-aged kids and their friends set up a DJ booth on the terrace and played their mix. The adults tried to dance under the stars like the youngsters, but we ended up feeling old. It was the first time I'd been in the "adult" group on a trip and the divide was strong: the kids went out late at night and we turned in at eleven o'clock on the dot. I couldn't help but be jealous. Maybe it's the extremely high dose of psych meds I'm on, paired with some uncharacteristic decisions I've made over the past three years, but I'm beginning to feel more like the person I want to be. But what if I had been this way at their age? God, how nice it would be with all that life ahead of me. Alas, its happening now, and all I can do is look back and see wasted time. Those lucky kids.

On the last night we applauded the chefs and said goodbye to our friends and hosts and packed. We would go to Milan the next morning. Thinking back, what I will remember most from the island is the chaos and the beauty: every drive involved holding your breath, swinging past other drivers on the tiny roads, but every cliff meant a view of the beach and blue water. It was one of the best trips I've ever taken.

Stay tuned for a post about Milan!