Blessed

Today we will get on a ferry and head to Italy. We are very sad to be leaving Greece, having spent two beautiful weeks here. I feel that Greece, despite its financial woes, continues to be wonderful. It makes me realise that there is always something to be happy about. This got me thinking about all the things that I am thankful for, and – inspired by one of my favourite blogs, Rockstar Diaries – I decided to put together a little list.

I am thankful for:

…the feeling of the sun on my skin – it reaches right down in to my soul, warms it up and leaves me feeling more alive than ever

…the time to be creative – to think and to dream

…the opportunity to miss my family and friends – to appreciate their worth and the important role they play in my life

…the courage to start again – to not know what the future holds and to be okay with that

…the chance to travel – to explore, to discover and to learn along the way

…the companionship of my best friend, my soul mate, my husband – to love and to be loved

…the heightened state of my senses – to take in the beautiful sights of the world, to feel the sand between my toes, to listen to the singing of the early morning birds, to taste the salt of the sea

…the ability to be still – to be quiet, to find peace in solitude

...the possibility to be who I want to be – to do what I want to do

…the unwavering faith I have that the best is yet to come

What are you thankful for?

A political theorist in Athens

Having studied political theory at postgraduate level, I was expecting to feel exhilarated by our visit to Athens and the Acropolis – the birthplace of democracy and the most iconic manifestation of Western civilisation. And whilst it was certainly a very interesting visit – the Acropolis itself is no less than majestic – I was left feeling remarkably unmoved.

Of course, we admired the remains of the Parthenon, its architectural brilliance and its significance as a tribute to the Greek goddess Athena – the virgin goddess of wisdom, war, the arts, justice and reason. And, of course, our eyes feasted on the delightful views of Athens that we enjoyed from this privileged position high above the city. We took the time to picture plays taking place at the old Roman theatre, and to imagine the pride the Athenians felt in being the pioneers of modern civilisation (setting themselves apart from the less refined, more barbaric, classes of people).

And yet, somehow, I discovered that I feel more inspired (to write, to feel, to exist) by the calm that comes with the setting of the sun as it dips into the sea, slowly at first, and then – suddenly – disappearing so fast you’re afraid to blink in case you miss the last of its lingering rays.

I used to think that, in order to feel creative or inspired, it was essential to be at the heart of a busy city, rich in both cultural history and urban reality. London epitomised this very ideal, and in my mind Athens was guaranteed to provide the same sort of stimulus. Surely, the hub of culture and democracy is the best place for a political theorist/aspiring writer to flourish?

Though nothing like London, the chaos of Athens – an inevitable symptom of city life – only served to numb my creative spirit; the external chaos adding to my internal chaos, merging with it, losing myself in it. Taking the city’s metro (something that I was initially very excited about) only reminded me of what it feels like to commute and to be constrained – to travel, yes, but not freely.

At the end of an interesting day in Athens, I felt the most pleasure recalling a leisurely stroll we took through the National Gardens, which were beautiful and – surprisingly – very quiet. We sought refuge in the shade, and enjoyed the feeling of calm that cannot often be found in the concrete jungle of a city.

Oh, and there was that half a kilo of gelato that we indulgently treated ourselves to. That was pretty damn inspirational too. 

Show me the middle finger

On Monday the 6^th of August 2012 it was our very first wedding anniversary. 365 days as Mrs. Ballan. Before we had even worked out a route, I was adamant that the day should be spent in Greece – at a beautiful Greek beach, eating delicious Greek food. The only problem was that we were hundreds of miles, but only a few days, away from this goal.

As we drove through the Balkans, I was more and more convinced that our special day would be spent in Albania – a country I wasn’t very excited about seeing. Albania was very different from both Croatia and Montenegro (which were extraordinarily beautiful, each in their own way). Albania was rough – not just around the edges, but all over. The country’s poverty was visible everywhere. The roads were poorly constructed, filled with potholes and very often (and randomly) became unsteady dirt tracks. We saw countless unfinished buildings that had clearly stopped construction due to a lack of funds. Albania was not beautiful, but it was humbling.

Florian, of course, is able to find beauty anywhere and in anything. In this exhausting and difficult country, he found a lovely little place by Lake Ohrid to stop and have lunch. The lake was enormous, it was tranquil and it was beautiful. Part of the restaurant was even built in to the lake, giving the diners the sensation that they were floating. I couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful the ‘sea’ looked, only to keep remembering that it was actually a lake and that we were nowhere near the coast.

To cut a long story short, we crossed the border into Greece on the 5^th of August. I had been worried for no reason – of course Florian had taken it upon himself to make sure that our first wedding anniversary was exactly as I had hoped it would be. We drove to Sithonia, the ‘middle finger’ of Chalkidiki (personally recommended by one of Florian’s Greek friends for its beautiful sandy beaches and the fact that it is slightly less of a tourist magnet than other places in Greece).

It was our very own paradise. And we spent the 6^th of August swimming in the warm sea, cuddling on the beach and looking back at our first year of marriage – recounting all the wonderful bits and everything we still have to look forward to.

My wise friend Charlee, during a moment of despair, once told me not to worry, because ‘the best is yet to come’. I held on to this like an anchor, and still do, only now I think of it in both good times and bad. Florian and I have had a magical start to our marriage – 365 days of love, of fulfilling dreams, of making plans for the future – and, yet, this is just the very beginning. The best is yet to come. And so the 6^th of August was a day to take stock, as well as a day to look to the future.

 

We have spent the last few days doing much the same – swimming in the sea, lying on the beach, eating amazing Greek food and appreciating everything we have. In this state of absolute freedom, we are still creatures of habit. Our body clocks automatically wake us up at 8am and meal times are respected. Each day begins with a refreshing and revitalising dip in the sea, and each day ends with us gazing up at the stars (because our campervan is awesome and has a skylight above the bed) – and thanking our lucky stars for this feeling of unburdened, true freedom.