Back in the days of "studying" in Greece, Mattie and I kicked up trouble into the wee hours of the morning, coming back to our apartments just to change for class. Ah the golden days. While our classmates were present in class, worked on assignments and went to bed at reasonable hours, Mattie and I were just setting off on our friendship love affair. We were late a lot and giggled too much in class and most of the time we went off on our own when our teacher led the group of us down a mountain trail or through a small town. It was the only time in my life that I behaved in an unruly fashion and though I felt guilty and avoided eye-contact with my teacher, I couldn't stop myself. I debated writing a charming letter explaining that I'm actually a good, punctual kid that makes A's and B's back in America. I also wanted him to know that I had respect for his ability to maintain a professional demeanor while Mattie and I disrupted the class. And I would like for you folks reading to know that Mattie is also no ner'do-well. We discussed this in depth actually as we were far more shy and withdrawn than our classmates both in Greece and at home but somehow we took the roles as class clowns and were the only ones open to climbing into unmarked vehicles with friendly locals. Something came over us we decided and we had way more fun than anyone else. Halfway through our stay, our classmates noticed that we had made friends all over town and we were able to recruit two more to our daring duo, creating a boisterous quartet that the locals adored.
Anyways, Im getting so far off topic. I mean to tell you about one particular day of class. In fact, it was the morning after the four of us gals were up late tending to disasters. One stepped on a sea urchin and the other suddenly discovered she was allergic to peanuts. Mattie and I split up. "You take Urchin. I'll take Peanut."
And so I took Peanut to the hospital. I knew right where it was because I had that 102˚ fever just the week before and Urchin consulted locals who said to soak her foot in olive oil and the needles would work their way out. We staggered into class that morning, all sleepy and uninterested. Our forgiving teacher loaded the twelve of us students into his 9-seater van and we rode just a few miles down the one main road in Paros. He took us to an art gallery and I recall thinking how tired I was and in no mood to look at "local art."
But by golly! We were all enchanted. It was a photographer from Austria who had been taking portraits of all the salty Paros fisherman. They all had such worn, wrinkled faces and their portraits were done in black and while. On the side of each portrait, he took an overhead, color photo of each one's fishing boat. Their colorful and adored livelihoods. It was just really something to look at.
Alright my point, I saw on CNN a few days ago, that news of this exhibit has finally made it stateside. Take a look at this.
I did some further research and found the real website for the project here and I'm just so excited about it. It was such a tiny little nothing exhibit on a tiny little nothing island but that means so much. It's Paros' fifteen minutes! The fun thing is that these photos really stuck with me for whatever reason. I'd say they come to my mind every six months or so and I try so hard to remember my favorites. I'm so happy to get to see them again. I wish I could have all these portraits. I just love them so much!
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