From Memories: Entering Turkey

How this is going to work I honestly don't know. I think many people can look back at their life, pick out a specific day, and call it the best they've ever had. I also think many people have great difficulty in doing this same thing. It can be challenging. There are an infinite amount of different things that can make a day the best, but the best in different ways. When I look back and try to pick out a single day in my life that no other could beat, it's hard. Many a day comes to mind. Could it be the day I summitted Katahdin? After walking for nearly five months and over 2,000 miles and finally seeing that mountain for the first time. Nearly crying just by touching a sign atop that mountain with dear friends that I'd come to love and cherish, is that my best day? What about the the day I left the Vipassana center in Jesup Georgia? What I still claim to be the hardest 10 days I've ever encountered in my entire life. I made it through it, and I know I'm better for it too, but can I say, as I stood there smiling and finally talking with all the others who'd made it through, that it was the best day of my life? Maybe the time me and a Frenchman camped in a tent outside the city walls of Dubrovnik Croatia on Thanksgiving day. Or any of the other things I've done that I never thought I'd be able to do. They all come to mind, including this day, the day I made it from Thessaloniki in Greece to Istanbul in Turkey. This, I feel, was a turning point in my life. If I haven't preached hitchhiking to you yet then you probably have not known me long. I love hitching. No, not just love, I'm infatuated with it. And not even that, because words cannot express the way I feel about it. At this point in my life I'd already hitched, and it was cool. But where the deep and bright passion of hitching was born from can be traced back to is this one day. On this one particular day the spark was struck, and, before I knew it, it'd become a wildfire unlike any I'd encountered. before. I've tried many times to write about this day and many times it has come to no avail. I've no higher hopes for this attempt, but, still, I've got to try.

-----------------

     Who we'd stayed with in Thessaloniki I cannot say. I don't rightly remember, but it was someone through couchsurfing. Maybe the girl who liked to talk philosophy. The one with only one room where all five of us slept. Or maybe not, as I said, I'm not sure. It was fall and the weather was getting more mild. It was no longer a sweltering heat during the day and the nights could get cool sometimes. What I remember most about the city is the White Tower of Thessaloniki. Not really impressive, but the only feature that distinguishes that city from the others I'd seen so far. I remember laying on the grass near a statue with Jake, Jess, and Georgie, eating a loaf of brown bread we'd bought from a bakery around the corner for a euro. We were chatting about what to do and where to go next. Georgie was set on going to Turkey and no one else objected to the idea, so it was a no brainer. I didn't know anything about Turkey. To be quite honest, like most countries I visited on this little jaunt, it was a place I'd never given much thought to, but Georgie had. And that was it, simple as could be, we all decided to leave for Istanbul the next day. 

     We woke before the sun had risen and made our way sleepily out of the philosophy girls house (I do believe it was her that we stayed with after all) to a public bus where I deciphered the schedule, and shot us in the direction we needed to head. That direction was out, out of the city, and to whatever major highway that would take us to Turkey. We made our way fairly close to where we needed to be. We actually missed our stop, but seeing as it was the second to last stop we stayed on the short distance to the end of the line and rode backwards to where we needed to be. Even so, it was still a half mile walk to the highway. 

     Once at the highway we followed the small chainlink fence blocking us until we found a hole we could get under with our packs. It didn't take us long. Once in, we walked past a small farm with a turkey and some goats and I remember thinking it funny that there were actual turkeys in Turkey. At that point we turned perpendicular to the turkey pen and trudged up the small hill that the highway was built upon. At the top we all made a decision. The game plan: We'd hitch in twos, I with Georgie and Jake with Jess, and we'd all meet at Gokan's (the couchsurfer Georgie'd set up for us four) that night. Alright team, break. Me and Georgie gave Jake and Jess the head start. We let them stand in front of us on the highway. How is that a head start? Well, what basically always happens with hitching is the car pulls off behind you on the road. What that meant, with Jake and Jess to our backs, was that even if a car did pull over because of me and Georgie the car would stop closer to Jake and Jess, thus essentially giving them our ride. It was nearly impossible for us to get a ride first, so it wasn't surprising when a cement truck, at the sight of me and Georgie, pulled over for Jake and Jess first. Me and Georgie knew it'd be so, and we were watching them load up before we'd really give it a go. We waved goodbye and they were waving at us when we heard a honk behind us. Both of us gave a little start because we were both watching Jake and Jess load. We didn't expect the horn behind us. We turned to see a sedan sitting in wait for us. Super excited to have also gotten a ride, we hurried over and got in. Our driver zoomed past Jake and Jess before the cement truck had even left the shoulder. Our driver gave a couple honks and we waved as we passed them, hearing the deep grunt of the truck honking in reply. 

     Now how it happened. As I remember it, we got 10 rides during that day. 8 of which were in Greece and 2 (sort of) in Turkey. Every ride in Greece was a short one. Yet it still didn't take long to get to the Turkish border. Basically every ride we got took us 20 kilometers down the road to the next town where we'd be thumbin' it for maybe 10 minutes before someone'd pull off for us. Now, it isn't how many rides we got that day that made this day incredible to me. Not at all.  The first ride we got was that sedan, and the man, I remember, was not what you'd call well off. Older and wrinkled, he smoked the whole way and tried to talk to us a little bit. The ride wasn't long though and we were soon standing on the side of the road when we saw a familiar cement truck driving up. We waved at Jake and Jess as the drove by and their driver gave another honk. Soon after, we got another ride in a different sedan. This man was on his way to work, wearing a full suit and speaking perfect English. While with him we passed Jake and Jess on the side of the road, as they'd done to us, and gave 'em a honk. Over and over again this kept happening. They'd pass us, we'd pass them, it was a huge game of leapfrog. And it was so much freaking fun. At one point we were all four again at the same spot hitching. Me and Georgie got the honors this time and took the first car, only to be quickly passed by Jake and Jess in the speeding sports car they'd got. I remember one lady who picked us up was on her way to a birthday party and I sat most of the way holding the cake in my lap. Then, later in the day, when we were almost to the Turkish border, me and Georgie were crammed into the cab of a small two seater pickup hauling watermelons when we saw Jake and Jess on the side of the road again. We, like every other time, got super excited. We were waving at 'em and rolled down the window to yell at them when our driver realized we knew them and pulled off to the shoulder, quickly coming to a stop. Jake and Jess run up with huge smiles on their faces, we all get out laughing, and then they're on top of the watermelons in the back if the truck, with me and Georgie still in the cab, we're all on our way to Turkey. I'd never experienced anything as fun as that in my entire life, it was amazing and beautiful and inspiring all at once. I couldn't believe we could get so many rides from strangers when we didn't even speak the language! They were all so kind and the whole matter was only enhanced by the comical passing and being passed by Jake and Jess nearly every half hour. Whatever I do in life, wherever I may go, that day is going to live on with me forever. But I haven't even told you the whole of it yet, so let me continue.

     All four of us had made it to the border in this watermelon truck and it was only four in the afternoon. Somehow I find it an unlikely circumstance that we'd all be here at the same time and it's all the more fun because of it. We all wave goodbye to the watermelon man and start walking towards the border only to get stopped on the Greek side. It takes a minute or two to find someone who speaks English and we learn you can't cross the border on foot. Well alright, that's fine. We all wait on the Greek side of the border with our thumbs out. It always takes longer to get a ride when you're crossing a border. I think it's because people are more hesitant to take  strangers into another country than they would be if it were just down the road. Law enforcement always makes people nervous. It took almost an hour of going car to car to truck to bus with our passports out to show we weren't trying to sneak across before Jake and Jess finally secured a ride for themselves. Me and Georgie were happy for them, but we were worried. It was getting late. A little after five, and it'd probably get dark around eight meaning we only had three hours hitching to get to Istanbul. It was still a ways away. As we watch Jake and Jess drive through the first checkpoint a car pulls up beside us. Inside we found an older family (I say older because the youngest was older than I) that were so nice to us, though they spoke not a lick of English. We started negotiating with them as soon as we were in the car using hand motions and names of towns. I pulled out my map and they pointed to the first town inside of Turkey, Keş (or something like that, I'd have to look at a map to be certain). We all quickly agreed that that was fine, we were headed in that direction and so the car started forward. The first checkpoint, the one getting you out of Greece, was no problem. It was a long ways to the second, at least a mile, where we would have to be allowed into Turkey. The drive between borders seemed barren, there was nothing around and soon you could see the white star and moon on a red background waving over the entrance to Turkey.  I hadn't even thought that maybe I wouldn't be let in... But all we had to do was buy a 15 euro 90 day tourist visa and we were good to go. Georgie's had cost 20 euros because she is from Australia and it really rifled her feathers a bit. This is where we found Jake and Jess again. Their car and ours were held up at this crossing for a second while we bought visas. Jess tried to buy hers in lira, the Turkish currency, but they only accepted euros here. We all agreed it stupid that you couldn't buy a Turkish visa with the Turkish currency. But she found an ATM that put out euros. And, just like that, another badge of honor was stamped into my passport. Then we, in our two seperate cars, were all on our way. We'd gotten into Turkey!

     

-----

Let's pause and take a break here for a second. I know this one is going on for a while and there're no photos to soften it (I cannot upload photos with my current connection in Alaska, otherwise I would). There're two more main parts to this story. Mehmet and Gokan. Mehmet is the key to this story. To me he is the most important part because he is the one who made a lasting impression. He is the one who, no matter what, I can look back on and have faith in humanity again. Through the short time I knew him he taught me so much and I can never repay him for that. All to be explained.

-----

     Once over the border the difference in the land was stark. Turkey was brown, the fields over plowed and barren where Greece had been green and fertile. I was shocked at the difference between countries. Jake and Jess made their own way and us ours. We didn't end up seeing them again until late that night when they made it into Istanbul. Me and Georgie rode for a little ways with our family and were dropped at a circular intersection in the middle of Keş. Little did we know at this point of the adventure, we'd be dropped at this intersection twice more during our roam of Turkey. We thanked our family and walked to where we thought would be a good spot. I started to put my thumb out and, before it was even up in the air, Mehmet came to a hard stop beside us in his truck. It was like a moving truck, and he was transporting food of some kind. He was a short man with dark hair who enjoyed smoking. We climbed into his truck without a second thought. He was overly enthusiastic about everything and insanely happy to have us as his guests. Before we'd even gotten out of the town he'd bought four pretzels from a boy selling them on the street, two for me and two for Georgie. I was already impressed because you could tell he doesn't make much money. I mean he's a trucker in Turkey for God's sake. He lives in his truck and it looked like he's been wearing his clothes for about as long as I'd been wearing mine. He didn't speak much English. 10 words tops, but he still talked to us the whole time and, regardless that we didn't quite understand each other, we all had some damn good laughs during the ride. We learned about güzelle (if I can spell) and the upside down pinching motion that accompanied it. It kind of means something is beautiful. And it was beautiful. The whole experience was beautiful. At some point during the ride we deciphered that Mehmet was telling us it would get dark soon. It was true enough, we could see by the sky outside, but what of it? He mimed that he wasn't going all the way to Istanbul and that no one would pick us up after dark. We knew this to be true as well, but what could we do? And so we assured him it would be alright and we'd just get out wherever he was going, so we all continued down the road like a road trip between friends. 

     After it was dark and we finally stopped, me and Georgie didn't know where exactly we were. Looking back now, we must've been in Çorlu. We were planning on trying to hitch in the dark because we were only an hour away from Istanbul, but Mehmet had different plans for us. He'd tried to call his trucker friends to see if any were going into the city, but no one was. So he sat us down in front of this building and had us wait there. After about 5 minutes he came back with some Turkish çay and left us. I'd never had anything like it before, but it is probably my second favorite thing in the world now. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of. Another five minutes later Mehmet came back and sat with us for half an hour talking to us. It's funny how much you can get across when you don't speak someones language. All of a sudden a bus pulled up out front and stopped with a hiss. It opened its doors and Mehmet shooed us onto it. Now this wasn't a cheap bus either. This thing had wi-fi, TV's in every chair, and it was roomy too. I was awestruck, not by the bus, but by the fact that Mehmet would spend his money on all this for us. The pretzels, the çay, and now this? Who was this guy? I just know he was dirt poor, yet he was going more than out of his way to help us beyond anything I'd ever expected. He even tried to give us some lira as we loaded up, but we denied it. I almost wanted to cry at how beautiful this was. Here I was, in a foreign country, where I didn't speak the language, where this guy knew nothing of who I was or anything about me or what I do, and yet, he was doing everything in his power to help. And he expected nothing from me in return. I had nothing to give him in return, and I was sad about it. But! But wait! Right before the bus closed its door I rushed to the front. I'd found an ash tray in the dirt in Greece. It was golden (doubtfully real gold, but possibly) and inlaid with colorful tiles depicting a ship with a square sail on the ocean. This I had fallen in love with because I thought it beautiful, and this is what I gave to Mehmet in return for his kindness. Not nearly enough, but it was what I had then. And then we were gone. I hope he still uses that ash tray. I should ask him, we still talk on facebook after all. 

     The trip into Istanbul was beautiful. We shared our enthusiasm about what'd just happened, but soon we both just sat back and relaxed. We were tired from the long day hitching. I'd lost my headphones traveling. But there was a pair that came with the seat. I plugged them into my phone and played Nuvole bianche, a piano piece that Jake had introduced me to. He'd told me if he listened to it enough it makes him want to cry. And I do agree, but it's beautiful. That is why Nuvole bianche is forever tied to my heart and it will always take me back in time, to a place where I'd experienced humanity. With the soft sound of a piano masterfully played I quickly nodded off for the short bus ride into Istanbul, a city I never expected to see. 

--------------------

This isn't how the day ended. There is more to it, but I feel as if I've written enough for one post. Maybe I'll finish this night next time. Maybe I'll move on to my favorite Turkish moments. Or maybe not. But to write it how I would like to it'd turn into a book, instead of a blog. Though it may not seem important to you, this was the best day of my life, and it had a massive influence on the person I am today. I remember that day fondly and though it seems like I wrote a lot, it's not even all of it. A picture is worth a thousand words, and a million wouldn't be enough to satisfy me with how I've written this day. I can say I tried, and I can almost certainly say I'll try it again one day. But for now... That'll do pig. That'll do.

To anyone who read this entire thing through, thank you, you're incredible, and I appreciate it. 

Be happy,

Beacon

From Memories: Greece, Part II

     Jake, Jess, and I hadn't a plan for the most part. We did a little more go with the flow type traveling. Georgie liked plans and organization. She had a whole itinerary planned that I believe we others ended up screwing with a bit. All of us were doing the backpacker thing and we planned on hitching South when we left Corfu, towards Athens. Georgie had set up a Couchsurfer (another great program for y'all travelers) for us all there. At this point in my life I had never properly hitchhiked before. I was knew to the subtleties that are included in the art and had never really considered, I'm sure most don't, how difficult it can be. And throughout this entire journey I learned many a hitching lesson and acquired, what I believe was, a firm grasp on the concept. Looking back now, we just as easily may not of made it to Athens that first day and we'd of just been shit outta' luck. Fortunately in the beginning I was not forced to learn the harder lessons of hitching, only the funner ones. 

     Our first ride came easily, we asked everyone on the ferry from Corfu to the mainland. I, unfortunately, hadn't been learning Greek conducive to hitching so I wasn't much help here (though I was the only one who could read signs and such for us). Eventually Jess managed, with her little knowledge of German, to get a conversation with a lady who was willing to give us all a ride. When the ferry landed she pulled over to us in her beat up white Caddy and shoved our packs in her trunk. We couldn't really talk to her because of the language barrier, but she was taking us inland a ways. What I remember most about that ride is that there were very long tunnels in Greece and the mountains looked so big to me. The ride only lasted an hour before she dropped us off outside of some town. I'd have to look at a map to remember which. We made an Athens sign there out of some cardboard we found in a dumpster. All four of us stood on the side of the highway with our thumbs out for no more than 20 minutes when a little itty bitty Yaris type car with Albanian plates pulled over. I hadn't realized it yet at this point, but I'd learn to love Albanians. The guy got out without a word, opened his hatchback trunk, rearranged some stuff, got back in, and waited with the trunk still open. We walked up to his rolled down windows and he just gestured to us. It was enough. We could only fit one pack in the trunk. Jake sat shotgun and we other three sat in the back, packs in lap, squished into the small car. Again, in this ride, we all experienced the craziness that is driving in Greece as we sped down the highway and around almost every other car. Most of the drive was coastal and it was beautiful. Bridges, tunnels, eveything. I remember seeing some gorges that made my jaw drop and my eyes water with their beauty. For the whole 6 hour drive our Albanian friend said nothing to us. Not one word. 5 hours into the drive he stopped at a bus station next to a waterpark. We all stretched our legs and he had us take the one pack out of the trunk so he could get to some of his stuff. Underneath was a black duffel bag of what looked like some yellow grass and two gallon jugs of an off green liquid. He took these over to the front of the bus stop, no one was there, and put them down outside. Just sat them there right on the sidewalk in front of the station. And walked away wiithout looking back. Then we left. That was it, still said nothing, we just left. Me and my friends had no idea what that stuff was and why he put it there. To this day I still have no idea, but it had the sketchiness of something illegal about it. An hour later he had driven us to the center of Athens. He just stopped there and we got out to go on our merry way.

     It was dark when we got into Athens and all we had was the address to this guys house. I'd never Couchsurfed before this, but I wasn't nervous at all. We made our way to his house via subway. I made note of how amazing the graffiti was. When we got there we walked up to his third story apartment. And peering in it was something like you'd expect a Victorian mansion to look like inside. Silver spoons, fine china, and all sorts of ornate things decorating the place. He was very nice and very accommodating. It was a great first experience with couchsurfing. We spent a little while in Athens and I won't bore you with the touristy stuff. Yes, we saw the Parthenon and, yes, it was incredible. There was so much old stuff it was unreal though. I was surprised at how dirty the city was, and the unlimited amount of feral cats. Seriously, they were everywhere. We saw the protestors and Athens is where I first found souvlaki, where I truly and utterly fell in love with Greek food. We switched  couchsurfer hosts once and stayed more in the center of town for a bit with a middle eastern college student who spoke little English. But one of my favorite memories was with our first host. He took us to this bar. We walked there through winding paths and back alleys. Stopping to see friends he worked with at the radio station along the way, then to see some more at another bar. We were walking past all this world class graffiti in the dark when he took a left into a dark looking building and went through this kind of tunnel. We followed him and came out into a huge courtyard, tiered around the edges, with a huge tree in the middle of it. The ground was covered in gravel and there were low tables with candles sitting everywhere up on the tiers and the bar around the base of the tree. There were lights dangling from the and I swear it was one of the coolest places I've ever been. It felt like walking into something you can only describe as where you'd believe elves live. Someplace extremely majestic and magical. The drinks were good and we had a strange desert that I can't explain, but it was called silver submarine or something. A type of vanilla clay stuck to a spoon in a glass of water. I kind of hope one day I make it back to that place. 

     Eventually we left Athens. It was a journey getting out of town on the public bus with Jake, Jess, and Georgie relying on me to read the schedule since I was the only one who knew the Green alphabet well. We made it though, rooted through some trash on the way, and made a sign for Thessaloniki. We decided to split up then and meet in Thessaloniki that night. Jake and Jess went together which left me with Georgie. Jake and Jess made it there no problem. Georgie and I got caught up in a small town and took the night train in later. A kind old man gave me and Georgie some cheese and candy there. I tried to offer him some of my grahm crackers, but he didn't like them. We spent a few days couchsurfing in Thessaloniki, mostly eating Souvlaki and just hanging out with each other. Enjoying the different culture. It was fun, it was nice. And then we turned our sights towards Turkey. Hungry for something new. I do wish that I'd gone to more islands while in Greece, but Jake and Jess wanted to make it back to England for christmas and had invited me to join them. And there were many other places to see along the way. Besides, unbeknownst to me, the day I left Thessalonikki was going to be the best day of my life. It was going to inspire so much faith in humainity within me that I'd never forget it. It was going to truly break me of that rigid and structured life I'd known before all of this. It was the day that I would fall in love with hitchhiking and the free spirit I'd been kindling would take flight. 

Be happy y'all, 

Beacon

From memories: Greece, Part I

 I've come to the point in Alaska where not a lot of huge things to blog about are happening. Y'all have the gist of it: working, scenery, friendship. Bam, Alaska in a nutshell. So I've decided to write about some other adventures from my past. I dunno really how it'll work, but I'm gonna give it a shot. It may be a little dull to y'all reading and it feels a little crude to me skimming over it all so quickly, but like I said, I dunno. I don't know what you want to hear from me. I'll just write what I want to write about. So here goes...

-----------------------  

     After my first season in Alaska I found no desire within myself to return home. Strangely so because this was the longest I'd been away from home in the 19 years of my life. Only three months, obviously still green to the world, but that was still the longest and it had not brought upon a homesickness in me. I'd hated college so much back in Texas that I'd searched hard to find a job far off in what I can only describe as the longest of shots. But somehow I found one. And without a second thought I left college behind to work in Alaska, a place where I knew nothing about anything. Needless to say I learned a lot. After the season I could've gone back. But the taste of college was still fresh in my mouth, and I still needed longer away before I'd be ready to go back and take another shot at it. Young with inexperience, bold dreams blew up my mind and adventures swelled in my heart. I had the most money I'd ever had in my life. Not much to an established person, but I was nowhere near established. I'd had three months of solitude, hard work, and cold rain along with the ego boost that was working in Alaska. I daydreamed about what my calling'd be once I got off the boat the whole last month. That's how, after the most incredible flight of my life (a story for another time perhaps), I came to be landing in Corfu Greece.

     Having never been out of the United States before (discounting some short vacations to Mexico and such) this was all new to me. I didn't know what to expect. When the plane started it's decent and I could start to make out features on the land far below it wasn't what I expected. Not that I'd expected something in particular. I really hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't the rocky hills that were surrounding this desolate airport. It wasn't actually desolate, but I only saw a few small farms while landing and knew no better. Whenever I'd thought of Greece in the past I'd never imagined what the landscape would be like. When I thought Greece all I would see inside my head is clear turquoise water and white pillars. It's always interesting seeing something you've only imagined before, it's never the same. The same was true of Greece. I walked off that plane and onto the runway with my house and home, clothes, gear, and entire life slung over my back in a then new red pack (most've you have seen me with that pack in my wanderings). Having everything in a pack was still new to me at this point, but I'd always heard about it and read about it so it seemed like the right thing to do. There was no regret in my heart for coming here on a whim, no fear at never having done this sort of thing before. Just frazzled hair, fishing boots, and starry eyes, taking in as much as I could while most of it swept right by me. It was just a lot to take in at once ya' know? So I just kind of followed the small crowd of fellow passengers over to the small airport building and lined up in the non EU line. It was cool seeing everything in Greek. It didn't bother me at all that I couldn't read it either. I still knew the signs over the doors probably meant exit. I could still identify a no smoking sign and most things had those dumb looking pictures under them. It wasn't a problem. In about a minute I was to the front of the line. They didn't hold my passport up next to my face and make sure I was who it said I was. Hell, they didn't even look at the photo. Just flipped to the first page and plopped down a stamp and sent me on my way. Those stamps have a certain sort of pride that come with them, with every new stamp I got as a traveler I felt a sense of accomplishment inside me along with a release of tension it seemed I'd been holding onto. A sense that I'd made it somewhere I'd never realistically thought I'd be. He handed back my passport to me. I just sauntered out into the warm Greek air.

       Alaska attracts the traveling type, so while I was there I met a few people and got a few tips to start me off. This is where I learned about helpx. And if you want to go somewhere and stay for free, helpx is the way to freakin' go. Check it out, seriously. And helpx is how I found Magdalenna who owned the Pink Palace. The Pink Palace was a hostel on Corfu island that acquired its name from the pink colour that everything was painted. This is where I was headed when I left the airport and I knew there'd be someone waiting to pick me up. And there was, I hopped in the van and met the first Albanian I'd ever met. For the life of me I can't remember his name, but it wasn't his real name anyways. He worked at the hostel, but was more of a permanent guy than these seasonal helpxers brought in and he was hilarious in a raunchy way. A few guest were also getting into the van and then off we went into an eye opening experience that is what they call driving in Greece. From everything I could tell there were no laws. We were speeding, bombing corners blindly, going around people to the left, going around people to the right, driving on the wrong side and on the sholder, honking at everyone on the road and at nearly every house we passed. I later learned there are two reasons to honk at someone in Greece: 1. because you know them and like them and 2. because you know them and dislike them. Which, as you can imagine, means everyone is honked at. I learned that a lot of people die in Greece from car crashes and you could see why. About every half mile there was a small shrine for someone who'd died there in an auto crash. After about 20 minutes we ended on this super windy road down a mountain. The hillsides around us were extremely steep and covered in all sorts of fruit bearing trees and vines. A lot of olive trees which hold a strange beauty to them. Whichever side of the van that was facing the sea (depending on which way we were winding) had an incredible view. You could see the Pink Palace down at the beach, and the beach right beside it with huge jagged islands jutting out of the beautiful Mediterranean sea.

    When we got to the palace the guest went left and I right. I was immediately introduced to some people who worked there and they welcomed me with a shot of ouzo (I suppose you spell it like that) which is the Greek liquor of choice. It was dyed a slight pink in honor of the palace and was actually pretty good. I was shown to my quarters where I'd be living during my stay. A 5 minute walk from the beach with a view of everything. I had a room and bathroom all to myself and it was small, but much more than I'd expected. Outside my back window lived a litter of feral kittens that Just stared at me every time I walked past. My front wondow was just some old rickity shutters that gave that it the feeling that it was old (and I'm sure it was pretty old). I could eat at the resturaunt on the beach for free and shots at the bar up the hill were only €1. Breakfast was usually cereal with Greek yogurt instead of milk. Lunch I could have basically anything Greek (mouthgasm). And dinner was always something different prepared by the hostel for the guests. That first night I just relaxed. I sat on the beach and ate food. The place was basically deserted because this was off season. The sunset was all for me and I cherished it. Finally letting my body relax after having worked hard for three months and trying my hand at international  travel. I didn't meet Magdalena, Jake, or Jess until the next day. And Georgie a few days after that.

      Jake and Jess were a couple from Cornwall England. They'd thought it'd be fun to go on an extended vacation together (they'd already done a bit of traveling before) and so they were helpxing in Greece. We became good friends really fast. None of us were big on getting drunk, so we bonded a lot. We would work together during the day, or later on, when I was sent off to work elsewhere, we would hang out at night. We'd play card games, bananagrams, or just talk about cultural stuff. I'd never really known anyone from different countries so it was all new to me and I had a lot of questions. Working at a hostel I met people from everywhere. A lot of Canadians and Australians though. I met a fellow American and he quickly became one of my idols (I have 6 people in my life who all inspire me greatly, and they would be shocked to hear it). He was everything I wanted to be at 28. I learned a lot about English culture and when Georgie, a girl from Australia showed up as another helpxer, a lot about Australia too. All four of us decided to band together then and there and became good friends later on. Magdalena was the owner of the hostel. And she was a kind lady. I liked her very much, but she was very poor and not well educated (though she spoke 7 languages). She quickly grew to love me as part of her family. She would invite me to eat with them instead of at the hostel kitchen, take me to town with her, and give me lessons in Greek at the end of the day. The work was simple enough, some gardening and cleaning for four or five hours a day. Maybe watching her two children, Spiro and Helena. They were 3 and 2 years old. Soon she liked me enough to send me to work with her father where I painted another hotel they had for weeks. I would wake up early and he'd pick me and two of the Albanians up. We'd go to the other property and paint a little, but mostly eat grapes off the vines along with the figs, pomegranates, and walnuts. Around noon he would make us lunch, which was usually some incredible stew with lamb still on the bones. He'd invite his friends over and we'd talk in the small amount of Greek Magdalena had taught me (he spoke no words of English and neither did most of his friends). From what I could tell he was a very well respected man. During these chats he served the strongest wines I'd ever tasted in my life. One glass and I was well beyond tipsy. Eventually he showed me how he made it in the shed behind the place. Then when the place was robbed Magdalena took me with her to talk to the gypsies about it ('twas obviosuly them who'd done it). They lived in shanties out in the country and every time I went by there was a raging bonfire in the heart of their refuge. She truly trusted me and I was seriously on my way to becoming part of the family. 

     One day her father (his name was Spiro also) was driving me back to the Pink Palace when we came upon the remains of a crash. The next day when we drove by it a small shrine had already started for the man who died there. Magdalena came to me later that day and said "there is a funeral in town for a man who died in a crash. He was a bad man, but the friend of our friend so we must go. I'd like you to come with us." I wasn't sure what to say to that, it seemed like an honor as I was the only one invited, even a dear friend of his at the hostel was not permitted to go because she was not one of them. And so I went and it was an incredible experience. We showed up at the small church and there were hundreds of people outside of it. It seemed everyone from the town showed up for this funeral. I didn't know what to do. It was interesting, and you could tell I was the only outsider there. I also stood a head taller than anyone else there which made me stick out, but no one seemed to mind. I could get by with my little Greek because no one went past 'hi, how are you?' or would ask me who I was with. I didn't know what was happening and we were all just standing out in the streets. But then a band started playing and we all started walking forward slowly and I realized it was a procession. I'd never been in anything like this before. Farther back where I was everyone was walking with friends and chatting quietly about the man. The closer you got to the front of the procession the more emotion was being shown from those that must've been his family. It lasted almost an hour ending in the small candle lit church surrounded by a little cemetery and a forest of olive trees. Everyone walked through to see the open casket and pay their respects. There were priests there and most people kissed one of the priests hand as they walked into the old church. Many people kissed the dead mans forehead too as they passed. I just walked through it all silently observing. And I still feel honored by that day.

     It seems like I was at the Pink Palace longer than I was. In reality it was maybe a month, but even a month is a long time to bond with others. Yes, it was a short time to become part of a family, but it was because we got to the heart of it quickly. Many an hour did I spend talking to Magda about life and helping her with her problems. She's confided in me and trusted me and so she took me in. I still wonder today what would've happened if I'd of stayed longer. I was welcome to of course, and Magda was distraught to see me go, but when Georgie decided she was going to explore more of Greece on her way to Turkey Jake and Jess decided to go with her and I coudln't turn the opportunity down. One of those last nights at the Pink Palace we all spent some time at the bar together before running down and into the surf. Laughing and chatting about travel. That night served as the bellows to the fire I had inside me, spurring me on to adventure. They flamed hot and I was excited. Our last day on Corfu Magda took us everywhere on the island. We saw the ancient churches built high up on the cliffsides, the old fortress, townsquare, arches, statues, markets, and pristine beaches. It was beautiful. Then early the next day Magda dropped us off at the ferry that'd take us to the mainland to begin the journey I'd thought only existed in books. 

---------------

I'm going to try to continue this story as best I can in between present time posts. Let me know if y'all think this is dumb and I'll quit (probably not). And if you want to see the photos that go along with it just look at my facebook. They're all in my albums under the album titled Greece. 

     

Be happy, 

Beacon

Trying to Tell a Story

     It was just past 11'o'clock at night. I'd driven for the two hours it took to get from Mite cove to past Lost cove and behind Esther island, just shy of open water. We were supposed to be at Imperial the next morning at 8'o'clock so this was the perfect staging position. Only a two hour run when we decided to wake. We were all thankful to be done before midnight. Sometimes even just 5 hours of sleep can become a blessing. The only thing between us and sleep was anchoring. Not a horrible task to accomplish. Definitely not like the time we had to scrub the head until one in the morning. Max and I headed up to the bow to drop the anchor while Amber negotiated the anchorage from the wheelhouse. Max went down through the freezer deck and switched the hydraulics over to anchor on the way. I left via the galley, following the rail around the upper deck, stepping over the ladder that could take me down, and springing lightly from double stack (of totes) to single to deck before falling in behind Max. Both of us taking the outside route on the port side, dodging around the straps securing the totes on deck. I didn't really need to be there, but I was anyways because I couldn't just leave Max out there alone. Max mentioned that the mist in the sodium lights looked like snow, but I insisted it was just the funny way sodium lights seem to shine. The first anchor attempt failed. Simply because we ended up too close to the Hardy behind us. We wouldn't want to drag anchor and end up rubbing another boat. So we had to try a second time. Amber took us away from the Hardy. I had my hands in my pocket, fingering some spare change, as we moved about for another spot to anchor. Normally I don't keep change, but I'd been the one to go get the whisky for the boat earlier that day while we were filling up water in Pelican. My fingers rubbed two pennies together as the rest of me tried to ignore the cold. I pulled 'em out. 'Hey Max, you wanna make a wish?' Max and I both flipped pennies into the dark water. I brought out a dime next and asked him whether it counted as 10 wishes and he said of course it did. Down it went, flashing golden as it passed through the sodium light. It had been a pretty nice day so far. It hadn't rained on us yet and we only had five more minutes work before we could be done and head into a nice warm bed to sleep hard. We started letting the anchor out, watching as the flukes sunk down into the cold water. The mist suddenly turned to a drizzle and we shared a knowing look. This was about to turn shitty, and it did. Just as we heard Amber say 'sorry about the weather' over the intercom it let loose pouring. I shoved my dreads under my hood and Max flipped his collar up, being unfortunate enough to not have a hoodie on. His back was to the rain and I kind of turned my shoulder into it to shield me as best I could. It didn't matter though. I was getting soaked. But when I turned away from the rain I was looking right off the bow where the sodium was pointed and the rain going through that light was crazy. The light had a way of making the rain shine like molten gold and it made each droplet trace through the air. It looked incredible with a thousand golden streaks pelting through the sodium to make tiny splashes on the ocean below. And then it was over as suddenly as it started. We laughed about our misfortune on our way to get some well deserved shut eye. 

Phoenix

I pulled up in front of Phoenix Cafe. The neon sign shown a hazy red in the fog. I got out of the car I'd borrowed, it was my mom's, an orange Ford Escape and turned back to press the lock key as I walked to the door. One door has always been broken and I always forget which. I heard the car honk as it's flashers went off twice in quick succession. They were hazy in the fog too. Why is it this foggy? This is San Antonio, at noontime, there should 't be a fog like this, especially in the summer. I couldn't see anything around the cafe as I pushed at the broken door. Two bells hanging from a string above the working door rang lightly when I entered. The air inside seemed to be thick too. Like a cloud was hanging around the ceiling. There was no one inside. I walked in, ignoring the fish tank. It was small and the fish aren't worth watching. I'd expected someone to welcome me as I walked up to the front desk, but no one was there either. I'd been here a million times, almost daily during my senior year of highschool, and they knew me here. Me and my server even had a secret handshake called happy salmon. I walked over to a small table and sat down. Somehow there was already a glass of iced tea waiting for me. I prefer sweet, but they don't have that here. Was it cold in here? I wished I'd of brought a jacket in with me. But it's summer, why would I have a jacket. Then all of a sudden Thomas, my server, was next to me and we were doing happy salmon. He took my order quickly. Mongolian Triple? Yes please. Hot and sour? Yes please. Fry rice or steam? Fried please. It be right out. Thank you Thomas. I didn't notice him leave. There were people to my right now, in the booth by the window. All I can see outside is white fog pressing in. It looks likes it's coming through the glass, the gray light is condensing the air inside. God it's cold in here. I look down and my food is there, back up and the people in the window booth are gone. Then Thomas is there with a fortune cookie resting on the check and it's foggy inside too, I can't even see to the cashier counter and as he walks away he disappears. It's fucking chilly, I want a jacket. Is the room rocking? And what is that drumming? I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, not realizing I was holding it. One... Two... Three... Open.

The first thing I see is the thin wooden wall full of knots next to my bunk on the barge. There's the soft pitter patter of rain on the tin roof and the barge is slowly rocking back and forth from the small swells that live in the strait. I suddely remember I'm holding my breath, and let it out slowly, silently, so as not to wake Corey. Then I remember he's not even here, he must've been too drunk to make it up the ladder last night. No doubt him and Max are both on the Deer Harbor. The generator isn't running either, it's been having issues lately. No wonder it's so cold. I zip my sleeping bag up a little more and snuggle into it. It's only 6am. Confident that I'll be warm again soon, I snuggle deeper into my bag, flip my dreads to a more favorable position, and lay my eyelids down in order to fall back into sleep. One... Two... Three... Open.

The fortune cookie taste is sweet in my mouth. I can feel the fortune crumpled in my hand and, due to superstition, I refuse to read it until I've finished eating the cookie. Only after I wash down my last swallow with iced tea am I brave enough to look down. The paper looks so small and insignificant in my large hand as I bring it close enough to read... "And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good"

------------------

Thank you Elisa