Hello and Goodbye

We made it back to France without any trouble. Greece was beautiful and my summer was wonderfully lazy but I am ready for it to end. I am going back to Iowa City for one more year of undergrad which I was not planning on but that's ok. I am going to retake the LSAT and aim for a score in the 170's.
On a side note it's an amazing time to be in France, perfect weather.
I may use this blog to post short stories that I have to write for an upcoming class but other than the occasional post this will be my last one.
These past nine months in Europe have been wonderful in so many ways and I am glad that I had the courage to come here. But I have reached the end of this adventure and I look forward to the next :)

Two yachts and a speedboat

I woke up this morning and said to myself I would like to travel the seven seas, drink champagne for breakfast at noon, lounge by the pool till 5, and go dancing every evening wearing diamonds. And I did, for just one day.
My friend Eftihia (I know that's misspelled) invited me to spend the day with her. She picked me up in the morning and we drove down to the square where a speedboat picked us up. We were dropped off by the nameless wordless driver on a yacht. An enormous sleek sexy yacht. I would like to emphasize the sheer magnitude of this boat. Please excuse my ignorance of correct nautical terms and allow me to guide you through this vast boat in laymen terms. We walked onto the first floor and we were greeted by some guy who took our bags and then promptly disappeared. Eftihia took me around front to see the pool. That's right a pool on the yacht. There were some girls lounging by the pool who said hello. We then went into the boat uum cabin whatever. We went inside and through a bunch of glitzy rooms and up a staircase to Eftihia's room, which was enormous. Our bags were there and swimsuits had been laid out for us on the bed. After a tour of the three floors, numerous rooms, and a movie theater we joined the other girls by the pool.
We spent the afternoon alternating between the pool and the sea. People brought us club sandwhiches and freshly squeezed fruit juices. I use the term 'people' vaguely because they showed up instantly when we needed something disappeared into nowhere and wouldn't talk to me. We changed for a late lunch/early dinner and crossed over to a yacht anchored nearby. Just as glamorous. Up until this point I had assumed that the yacht belonged to Efthia's father or uncle or I don't know. Anyway I was introduced to five older gentleman. One was Eftihia's 'boyfriend' another term that can only truly be loosely applied because he was also the boyfriend of about three other girls on the ship.
It was as if I had walked into a James Bond movie. Except that James Bond is always extremely good looking and trying to save the world from imminent disaster so his slutty beahvior is forgiven. This situation was more like the Playboy mansion I guess. Old men and beautiful young women brought together by money. We had a lovely four hour dinner in which I heard interesting stories ate fantastic food and just for a minute imagined myself in that lifestyle. Alas when midnight came my fairytale day was over I left, alone, driven back to shore by the same nameless wordless driver.
I was invited to spend the night of course by Eftihia and her boyfriend, I declined. I may be able to visit this glamorous lifestyle for a day, an evening, a week, but I could never be a participant it's just not me.

One of the greatest things about traveling is exposure to new situations. While this particular one left me staring with my mouth wide open I appreciated the chance to see how others live and though it may never be a lifestyle I can live it helps me to keep an open mind.

*The picture is the view from the family's house at sunset

Dignity

Today I am sitting in the same square at the same cafe pouring coke from a cool glass bottle into a warm glass filled to the brim with ice and topped with a lemon. The ice causes me great distress. You see I am not thirsty at this very moment and the ice is quickly melting leaving no room in the glass for the coke. But then of course the Greek man who served me will no doubt be quite happy to bring me a new glass without ice. I know this because he told me so and his unabashed staring confirms his faltering yet endearing English.
A child's screams reach my ears causing me to instinctively smile, I recognize this cry. It is the cry of one who has scraped his knee and the blood will soak the cobblestoned street today only to be bleached out by the sun tomorrow erasing his existence on the island forgetting he was ever here. His mother rushes towards him taking him in her arms and assuring him that it will be ok everything will be just as wonderful for this child as it was before his scraped knee. And perhaps for this LaCoste clad child it will be. His deepest proximity to sadness being a scraped knee. I mention the clothes because they strike me as absurd. This place strikes me as absurd. It is a place in which one is constantly slapped with the magnitude of nature. If I turn to my left I can stare off into the sea and not see land and am impressed with how insignificant my existence is. If I turn to the right I can listen to the clinking of European riches. I am acutely aware of the wealth of the people because I am acutely aware of the suffering of the poor. A handicapped man wheels through the chairs and table and places some rude toy on the tables accompanied by a card which explains in different languages how sad his life is and how the ability to sell even the meanest of trinkets brings a little dignity to his poverty. Of course I have seen this all over Europe the same prototypical sad man with the same trinket and the same protypical privileged people ignoring him myself included. Here however it makes my heart sink a little more.

Paxos

We are now on the tiny island of Paxos. It has less than 2,000 inhabitants and is too small to be found in the world atals, at least that's what S says I haven't actually checked. The island is like the town in the movie Under the Tuscan Sun. Buildings surrounding the town center are old and half forgotten. The shutters bright green as if they have recently been painted contrast with the weather wearied salmon paint of the exterior. The windows are closed suggesting a deep slumber undisturbed by the children laughing in the square. The sea is a stone's throw away from the cafe where I am sitting. The boats are beginning to line the port, it's a Saturday night and the promise of festivities hangs in the air. I can see a Greek Orthodist priest in traditional garb of long black robes tall black hat and a big bushy beard talking on a cell phone in front of a group of bikini clad Italians on their way back from the beach. Their Italian words mixes with the stream of steady Greek from the women at the table next to me. They are wearing Prada sun glasses with flowing beack dresses over too tanned bodies. It is their children that are screaming in the square. This place is romantic and it makes me feel like I walked into a postcard. If someone were to snap a photo of me right here the eventual viewer would sigh and think "how sweet". Tourists are here of course but they are the more subtle type. The kind who own homes and yachts who have discovered this island in hopes of preventing others from doing the same.
Needless to say the house here is amazing, it's a seaside villa. There are three floors, three bedrooms, three bathrooms and amazing views. Every floor has a large balcony and we have a a pool as well. I feel overwhelmed here. I am a homegrown Iowa girl yet here I am on some Greek island sipping wine with millionaires and villagers, it's almost unsettling.