I have been revisiting memories of some of the places I have lived, and Greece has been speaking to me loud and clear these past weeks. Maybe it is the changing of the seasons .:. spring into summer .:. maybe it is the blooming flowers and trees, or the clear blue skies, but I have often found myself these days, back in Greece.
I lived in Athens for a bit more than a year. Most people make a face as if to say "ick", and ask why I didn't live on an island. I did do that too, but Athens, I loved Athens. Each neighborhood a village unto itself, unique, individual and identifiable. I loved the white wash buildings, the noise of this particular city, and the sun, and the most of all the people.
I loved moving to a place where for a while I didn't understand the language at all. I could sit outside at a taverna, and hear voices but was not able to take in most anything that was being said. There was something freeing in it, something unnameable about it that I loved. I was there taking it all in, and yet, I was somehow just slightly removed, just slightly beside myself, not understanding, and allowing myself to revel in the non-understanding.
We take words in: bits of conversations overheard, the radio or television on in the background, conversations with all sorts of different people, all day long. My mind is constantly working on the words, the ideas, the thoughts. My mind never seemed to take a full rest from all these words until I moved to a place where the words I took in were only sounds. Melodic and beautiful sounds that formed a soundtrack for my first few months in Athens.