Santorini, Tuesday

In case you hadn't noticed, there are four new posts today. I urge you to scroll down and read from the beginning, as then things might make sense. My sense of time is shot; I keep running over the days of the week in my head - but I can never remember what's what. Which is, I suppose, part of the point of coming to Greece.

Weirdly, I got a phone call this morning from a British woman in Paris, who works for Reuters news agency. Apparently she had gotten my name from a Bulgarian intern (?!) who she said she thought I knew - I don't, and I'm faintly disturbed by the prospect of mysterious Bulgarians shadowing my every move. Anyway, she wanted to interview me about studying in Paris, and what effect the strikes had had on my semester. I obliged willingly - I'm wary of people putting words in mouth, so I did my best to correct her when she started writing stories instead of listening to me. Anyway, I'm not sure if I'll ever hear about it again, but it was certainly an interesting thing to have happen. EDIT: This actually happened yesterday. Or possibly the day before; it's impossible to say, really. SECOND EDIT: Here it is: http://www.reuters.com/article/lifestyleMolt/idUSTRE54I1ML20090519?pageNumber=1&virtualBrandChannel=10531 I kind of sound like a tool. Oh well.

So far, following my gut has resulted in good experiences. Today, walking up the hill to look for food, I ducked into a gyro shop. I got a first-rate pita and a coke for five euros (a little steep, but good), and started talking to the chef – Manuel, an Australian of Greek descent. He, too, has been all around the world (seems to be a lot of that going around), being a chef in some capacity or another, but he’s spent every summer for the last three years in Santorini. I asked him why. “You know, wherever I go I’m working sixteen hours a day non-stop, on my feet the whole time. You get stressed out and angry, no matter where you are. But everywhere else I’ve been, I could never relax after work. Here, no matter how angry or stressed out I am, I walk up the hill, I see that view, and everything melts away. It’s like, fuck, you know?” I thought that was probably the best description of Santorini that I would ever run across, so I came back here to write it down.

After lunch I took a walk, but quickly ran out of steam. I headed home and sat by the pool a little longer, and then decided that, for some reason, I wanted to play solitaire. So I did, for about two hours – I didn’t win a single game. I must be the worst solitaire player of all time. At some point I stopped playing solitaire and started doing sit-ups, and took a shower afterwards.

I went back to Manuel’s for dinner at around nine thirty, and per his suggestion, had the grilled “lamp chops.” They were, in a word, delicious, almost transcendent. Metatastual: tender and juicy, lightly charred on the outside, and deliciously spiced. They came with French fries and some tomatoes, and all joking aside, it’s probably the best lamb I’ve ever had. And it cost 11 euros – which again, is a little pricy, but it was so good. One thing I like about Greece is that everyone remembers you (or at least pretends to) and greets you with a handshake, a smile, and a “How are you my friend?” That’s not just the Greeks, either. There must be something in the water.

After dinner I walked back up to the Two Brothers, where I met Claire, Sean and Other Sean. As soon as I walked in, Claire asked me how my head had felt this morning. All I could do was wince in reply. I wasn’t ecstatic about the prospect of another night of drinking, so I sipped idly at a gin and tonic and talked soccer with Other Sean for a while after Sean left. Genie and Steve came in at about eleven, and Genie immediately bought me a drink. We all talked for a while, Genie still ecstatic about Twilight, talking about the Twilight parties that her friends throw (these are grown women), and how much she wished her husband (balding) had my hair. Other Sean added that everyone at the bar was asking him if he knew who the kid who looked like the guy from Twilight was. It was all very flattering, but seriously, really weird. I’m not sure how I feel about the whole thing.

Anyway, after Other Sean left to see if he could find the Swedish girls at another bar, Genie and Steve wanted to know all about my girlfriend (Genie: Let me guess. Stunning, ninety pounds, drop dead beautiful? Me: Basically. But she also does chemistry). Side note: Every time I tell people I’m here alone, I get positively stunned looks in reply. “What, no girlfriend?” everyone asks. And it’s certainly a good question, since Santorini’s one of the most romantic places I’ve ever been. Watching the sun set here is almost a religious experience, and in all sincerity, I wish there were someone here who I could share it with. I feel like I’m going to get home and be off in another world; unable to convince anyone that any of this happened. It’s been, in the best of clichéd terms, like walking in a dream.

In any case, Steve and Genie are basically teenagers who happen to have left adolescence far behind, so hanging out with them was, again, pretty entertaining. Genie once again insisted on buying everyone shots (ouzo), and then introduced me to a couple of Australian videographers (Genie: They’re photographers! Them: Videographers. Genie: Whatever), who agreed that I “looked like the Twilight posters.” Well, what with the deafening music despite the fairly deserted bar, a less-than-happy stomach, and no desire to have any more gin, I called it a night at twelve. Walking home, the scent of honeysuckles and the squeak of bats thick in the air, I thought about going back to Paris. I don’t think I want to. Going back to Paris seems like – like going back to black and white television after a week spent in Technicolor. I want to stay in Greece. Well, that’s not true. I want to come back to Greece some day – I have to. There’s too much to see. A week is plenty of time for Santorini, but there’s so much more. And as much as I enjoy being alone, this would be a great place to visit with another person, especially a place as breathtaking as Santorini.

Carefree will I roam; Ordinary eyes.