Toward sunset
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Santorini,
Greece
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Here in the Internet cafe without a connection for 20 minutes, sipping a mojito, waiting for the spark to the world. And here we are at last. Mornings are hot as soon as the sun hits the pavement, a concrete and black lava cobblestone amalgam. Dry heat, but blasting, fierce and relentless. They have wasps here in Greece as big as hamsters.
And if the company that makes whitewash is publicly traded, buy now.
I woke up at 5 this morning for no apparent reason, although I scarcely remember how I got back to my room after dinner last night.
Breakfast on the terrace and a stroll up to the square in Fira to catch the 10.30 bus to Ia (or Oia, spelling in English is quite flexible in this country and varies from signpost to signpost). We weave along the sort of twisting, narrow mountain roads I drove in Chios without being able to look down. The term "bus plunge" occurred to me several times. But what could possible happen whilst riding a bus? I'm sure Susan & Jefferson would agree that there is no cause for concern.
Ia hangs on a cliff on the northernmost hook of Thia and, like Fira, is an amalgam of crisp, white buildings decked with flowers above the blue water below. At its furthest stretch, the ruins of a Venetian castle, red brick and black lava, shimmering in the heat. I have no reason to be here, no chores, no list, and so retire to a cafe and read another 50 pages of my book over iced coffee and catch the 1.20 bus back to Fira and climb the path back to my room for an icy ouzo and mid afternoon nap. Waking at 5, I land a chair near the pool and read a few more chapters. The heat is so intense, I actually get into the water for the first time since I landed in Athens. Crisp, cool, and pure.
All in all, just a long, sweet summer afternoon.
If only you could capture the moment and dole it out in seconds as needed. Ancient medicine.
Three more nights in Santorini. I am beginning to feel restless here in what feels like my mother's spiritual grave. In a land where the lave tumbles to the sea, I keep seeing her face.
