Greecey Memories

Something made me realize that my big Greecey summer was 10 years ago. Ten! That was the happiest little whirlwind I had ever experienced and it's still the memory I have of being young and free. I said "the memory" on purpose. I mostly always feel somewhat young and somewhat free, but that summer I decided not to be a polite and studious southern belle. 

Actually, I didn't really decide to be a bashful party girl with a solid awareness of her surroundings. All the fun just pulled it out of me. 

I'd show up late to my classes wearing the clothes I'd gone out in the night before, because I never did go back to my apartment. Me and all the happy, local young folks that had nowhere to be the next day, would eventually wander out of the bars and onto the beach to wait for the sunrise. I put in half-effort on my homework and instead befriended the many groups of cute Australian tourists who kept getting off the ferry on the wrong island. They taught me Australian slang and helped my practice my accent.
I accidentally wooed the town heartthrob, caused a scene for an Albanian fella, bought my groceries in an open air-market, had internet access for only a half hour a day, wound up at a strange drum-circle one night, had the best nachos (of all things), and rode around the tiny island on that heartthrob guy's moped. He would come pick me up while all my friends had to walk. They scoffed at me for it. He'd drop me off wherever I was going and then disappear into the night, the way a mysterious Greek stranger ought to. (I checked with locals that he wouldn't kill me.) My friends would arrive all sweaty and tired, and I'd already be there enjoying a plate of souvlaki. 

I met wonderful, life-filled people from every possible country. I took a catamaran to Mykonos, photographed an ancient monastery, skipped sleep, ate pastries, feta, fruit and honey, and finally paid for it with a fever and sore throat. 

I've never had so much fun. 

From Paros I went to Wales and from Wales to Italy to meet with Jared and the family for a Mediterranean adventure. I got home from all that around this time ten years ago. 

Paros has been "discovered" now. It's in all the magazines and lists of "must-see" islands. Half of the people I spent my time there with are married and living somewhere else. A few are still there, staying up late and stepping on sea urchins. I want to take Brett there to have that fun and to visit my old pals, but alas, that specific moment in time is gone. 

Like the Surf Bar days. Or the musical Julie and Omar friend group. 
These little pockets of goodness.