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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.
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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
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