Enlightenment in Greece

If, as A Course in Miracles, states, "the surest signs of enlightenment are joy and laughter" then being in Greece has brought us closer to enlightenment. We are reminded by a reading for the day, that, if we cannot laugh about something, we are not yet healed from that experience. In Greece, our stories and laughter flow like Ouzo; clear, crisp, abundantly and easily. Any old wounds that we carried here must be healing.


While this post is a reflection of yesterday's events, I would be remiss to not immediately share this mornings highlight; breakfast with Rick Steves. (Well, perhaps not at the same table.) Ginny fell immediately into "groupie" fashion as she began to giggle with delight at meeting face to face one of her true "Idols," the "God" of Travel. (We are in the land of Gods.) As I pushed her gently off the setee to obtain his autograph, I noted that he held true to his book and was in fact staying at one his suggested accomodations. For a moment I exit the present and wonder, "What destination will Rick guide us to next?"


Yesterday was filled with another delightful breakfast. Clearly when your hotel feeds you so satisfyingly, why would we go anywhere else. Besides, it is difficult to journey about without a morning cup of coffee. In this case, I found out that our hotel Carbonaki serves "Turkish" coffee, and it is by far the best coffee I have ever had!

We began our day by walking through town and ventured into the "Old Venice" area, where old windmills decorate the landscape. I am mesmerized by the crashing waves against the foundations of the buildings. The practical side of my brain wonders what the maintenance must be like for one of those buildings. Ginny comments that the constant sounds would become overwhelming and exhausting. Here, the force of mother nature never sleeps.

We meander (yes, I use this word often as it accurately depicts the narrow walkways between the buildings that we follow) the walkways . Small cars come through on occassion and I am forced to watch breathlessly for fear that even my breath will cause them to shift enough to scrape the building walls. We head to the town center where we chat with the local "honey" man as we wait for a bus to take us to Ag Ioannis through the quaint little village of Ornos. I am certain that God is traveling with us, as the bus did not fall off the cliffs. It is remarkable the ease with which the drivers manage the journey.

The sea at Ioannis is crystal blue. No matter which direction you focus your eyes, natural beauty abounds. After another delicious meal, this time at Hippie Fish, the location of a movie I am told is a must see, "Shirley Valentine," and a swim, I nap drunkenly on one of the lounge chairs that scatter the beach. Ginny is forced to wake me to return to our town.


Back at the hotel, she naps while I continue to practice painting the white on white hues of the houses. This struggle might lead me to attending an art class. Depciting the multiple shades of white to distinguish the houses that fill the cliffside is easy with my eye; not so with my paintbrush.

Dinner is selected by mistake (one "K" looked like another "K" to me.) It is a result of our first retaurant choice being busy, our stomachs being loud, and a series confusing pathways. Although the setting was picturesque (a great setting for a wedding reception with its large white on white space, flowing white drapery and large beautifully shaped white tables, it was our first disappointing meal. The Baklava that I set out to find afterward, helped ease the wound of a not so good meal.


Afterward, we strolled back through Old Venice looking at store fronts, watching the sea, and listenning to the music of each passing eatery until it was "late" enough to attempt dancing at Jackie O's. Unfortunately for us, half past midnight was still not late enough to find the crowd dancing. Reluctantly, we surrendered to the demands of our bodies and returned to our rooms for rest. One minor Greek flaw is that the mattresses here are more like cots. Fortunately, I am a "back sleeper." Ginny has become a "back sleeper" after the numbness of her hip was more uncomfortable then changing sleeping positions.


If the path of enlightenment is "paved with play and celebration", we are walking in the right direction.