feelings, travel


“Was the weather in Greece pretty good?” Maga asked.

“Depends on your definition of good.”

“To me, that’s sunshine and warm weather.”

“Then, yes.” Not wanting to alarm or cause envy, I didn’t expand upon the suffocating heat or gloriousness of a country that focuses on finding the best angle for the sunset each evening.

“What was your favorite part?” Maga asked.

“Probably the island where J and G got married.”

“That was Paros?”

“You got it!”

“Very good, yes.”

“It was big enough to be interesting, yet small enough not to be too touristy. We spent five days there so we got to know the island as well. It was wonderful.”

“And G’s father. Did you make it up to northern Greece to see him?”

“I did yes. He is such a lovely person.”

“Does he speak good English?”

“He knows about 5 words of English, while I know about 3 words of Greek…”

“So you didn’t have many heavy conversations?”

“Not really, no, but he was so welcoming and generous and you’d be surprised how much you can convey over a table full of food and wine and smiles.”

And it’s true. You can have entire conversations through the lifting of a glass of ouzo or the pointing at a dish of squid with raised eyebrows. There are lessons available within the slices of honeydew and chopped bits of figs he brought to the table. I may have only learned 3 words of Greek over two weeks, but I learned infinitely more with the use of my other senses.

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