Ten Years of Greece, How do I Love Thee?

 

For the past ten years I've been going to Greece every summer. Except that year when no one was allowed to travel, I spend weeks to months packing, planning, and plotting my journey. Then a few days travel there, followed by a few weeks being there, and wrap it up with a few days traveling back home. 

The odd thing is that every year I go to the exact same place. Most years I go to write with Women Reading Aloud. Though I arrive early and stay long after. I've never been to Santorini, or any of the popular islands. Often I'll check out places or sights on the mainland during my journey, Athens, Kalamata, Meteora. My favorite museum—The Acropolis Museum—my favorite hotel in Athens—the Airport Sofitel—my favorite Greek Salad.

Usually the only islands I see are Skiathos and Skopelos in the Northern Sporades and only those because I need to pass them on my way to Alonissos, my favorite island. Maybe it's indicative that I don't need to see all of the islands in Greece to pick a favorite. I've been married to the same man for forty years. I didn't have to meet them all to know he was the one for me. I know when something works for me. This man. This island. Dark chocolate. I'm happy. Sure, I like to try different trips, different places at times. This place, however, doesn't change. As long as I can get myself through the long and arduous journey, that's where I'm going. 

Know what I do there? Other than write with WRA, I mean? Nothing. I go to my favorite beaches, drift in the sea, lay under an umbrella or right on top of the stones on the beaches. Sometimes I sit by the sea in a taverna with a cup of cappuccino, fresh watermelon juice, or water and I don't even think. I'm just there. Once, a particularly annoying person kept saying, "Oh, you go there to meet a man." Please, girlfriend, I have a man. I'm not in love with another man. I'm in love with an entire ISLAND, with an entire PLACE, COUNTRY, SEA. Some people do not understand love at all. Greece is very easy to love. 

     

My Legs vs. A Long Haul Flight

 

As much as I plot and plan to pack light, somehow it doesn't quite work out like that. I saw a woman on a ferry in Greece carrying only her backpack and thought, she is my spirit animal. I'm going to learn to pack like that, someday. Fact is, I've never HAD to pack like that. I'm strong, with legs that can carry a suitcase, a big crazy dog pulling on his leash, and a couple of kids up a steep hill. Or so I always thought.

Thing is, bodies aren't always cooperative. If they start acting up, you'll get no notice. It's been months since my body decided enough is enough and I'm still surprised by it. WE HAD A DEAL. My entire life I've had two functional legs that I could count on to hike me anywhere but that look terrible in dresses. I never let that bother me because they worked and that's what counts. At least that's what I told myself as I covered them in jeans and long dresses. 

My hubby wears a brace on one of his legs—has since high school. He’s had many surgeries on them. His legs are the uncooperative kind that you can't count on. It was all good, I always thought, I’ve got you there, sweet hubby. These hunk o chunk legs can carry two, and our luggage if need be. 

Until last summer on my annual long haul flight New York to Athens when something happened. I stood to get off the flight and my legs felt wooden. Painful. Uncooperative. Weird, I thought, but it had been a long haul. It had taken twenty-four hours as I traipsed from home to an airport, flew to a second airport, then a third. Then Athens. Even weirder. after I forced my legs off the airplane and through customs and then to baggage claim and into a taxi, when I tried to get out of the taxi at my hotel, I barely could. I had to use my hands to lift my legs and put them out of the car and then kind of jump onto them. 

Getting up the stairs to my room was tough, especially with luggage. I called a friend who’s a doctor. “Did you wear compression stockings?” She asked. “That’s a thing?” I said. I could practically hear the eye roll. “Elevate your legs. Ice them. And walk. Even if it hurts, walk. It’s not likely to be Deep Vein Thrombosis in both legs, but you HAVE to wear compression stockings on long haul flights.”

I froze water bottles in my mini-fridge. I old-lady without a walker walked the mile to the cold sea. When I got there, I rolled up my pants and trotted into the icy water. It felt wonderful. I step-together, step-together-ed my legs the mile back to my room and iced my knees. They throbbed. When I coughed they screamed. It wasn't just the knees, it was hip to toe, both legs, sobbing. They felt loose here and there, and tight there and here, and stiff, and they howled with every step. 

Yes, I debated going to the hospital in Athens. I debated getting on a flight and going back home instead of continuing another two days of travel to my summer destination. Memories of going to the ER surfaced. They're not fond memories and I was considering going to the ER in Greece which seemed worse. My Greek has not advanced to a hospital vocabulary. Even though I'm sure we could have spoken in English too, I’d long ago decided not to go to the ER unless the problem was obvious and there was a bone sticking out. I decided to stick by that decision and that I couldn’t fly home until I found some sort of chunko compression socks anyway. I didn't want to double my problem by flying home without them too.

For the next two days I traveled deeper into Greece. Another plane. Ferry. Walking miles. Taxis. Moving slow, slower, slowest, hauling my luggage. Possibly cussing under my breath. Anytime I passed the sea and could get there I walked straight into it. Cold. Salt. Thank. God.

My final destination was covered in stairs. I went up and down them, stumped my way to the grocery store, pharmacy, cafes. Every day I stood in the cold sea. May. June. July. By then I’d acquired compression socks and I reverse traveled my way back home. Ow ow ow. 

At home I went to the doctor, and again, and again, and again. It’s post Covid. You don’t just up and go to the doctor. You can get in in three weeks, four, next month. July. August. September. October. November. Schlump schlump, baby steps. Singing my ow ow ow refrain. December and January were blood tests and physical therapy. X-rays. By February I rated other testing. An MRI. Come March I had graduated to an Orthopedic surgeon. 

Right now I'm taking meds that are definitely helping. It's very exciting. I was so happy that I did everything I couldn't do the past nine months and threw my back out. I guess I shouldn't have done everything in a twenty-four timeframe. Now I'm taking those leg meds and icing my back and eyeing flights to Greece because it's time to plan that trip again. Right? Right? 

 

Artemida, Greece

​

This morning I arrived in Greece after a long day and night of flying. Lately long flights give me what I’ve come to call Flyers Knee, because that’s when I get it. A painful stiffness from sitting in one spot for so long—though I did get up and walk around as much as possible. I wasn’t the only one stretching my knees out.

This year I stayed at a family run hotel in Artimeda, about a mile walk to the sea. I decided to walk it despite the knee. I got a chance to try out my sad Greek when I wasn’t sure which fork in the road to take. One of the teenagers chuckled and answered me in perfect English (as most Greeks seem to do), pointing the way.

It was a perfect evening for a walk. The sky a bit hazy. The sea busy. I sat on the Rocky shore, I think it was marble. 

Kritamo grows wild along the shore!

It’s delicious with lemon and olive oil! 

The perfect start to my adventure—despite my flyers knee!

FOMO Has No Power Here—Happy in My Now

Once a newly graduated student admitted to me in a near-whisper, I have no interest in travel. Is that weird? It's amazing I said. Being content is highly underrated in the marketing world.

A cup of tea right where you are is perfection. 

Yesterday I fell into a hole on YouTube. I'm a solo traveler and I watched video after video of the adventures of other solo travelers. One that really got me was a young woman who planned an empowering and romantic trip to Paris all by herself. By day three she missed her cat and teared up when she talked. Trying to talk herself into the beauty of the city wasn't working. It made her sad. The old mom in me wanted to hug her, wanted to whisper, you're still seeing the fantasy you've been sold. You're seeing what you're missing and not what you have. 

I left no comment. There are things we all have to figure out for ourselves.

My solo travel is a choice. I have a perfectly good husband who has no interest in seeing the places I like to go to. After our centuries of marriage I began traveling solo so I could see the places that always called to me. I've no desire to see the whole world. Every year I go to the same islands in Greece. I write with the same group of women. I lay on the same beaches and float in the same sea as last year. 

Once I stayed longer in Rome, forfeiting Venice—which I've yet to see. I've never seen Santorini, Sifnos, Paros, or Crete. Over the accumulating years I've willfully missed much. To again lay on hot stones at Leftos Gialos or the Port Beach on my favorite island. Again, this year, I didn't take the ferry to Skopelos, preferring to stay afloat in the Aegean off Alonissos longer. Didn't make the snorkel trip. Didn't hit other beaches I've yet to see.

Instead to be quiet where I am.

Making quiet choices to sit or float in moments—lingering longer and longer—letting go of more and knowing enough. 

Why? I don't contemplate as I slide into now. Living in my moments. Not needing or truly wanting more. Filling myself with now's. Todays. Enough. Shhh, don't ask me why. It's something we figure out for ourselves.

Alonissos, Greece—The Northern Sporades

Getting to Alonissos from the United States

Since I live and fly from a small commuter airport I don't have much nice to say about this part of the trip. This year, 2022, I'm hitting three airports before I leave Boston for Athens. Some years I've flown from New York to Chicago only to turn around and then fly east all the way to Athens. Commuter airports are great. I love mine. They're just not all that convenient for big trips. Plus when I'm making a trip to Greece I've learned to give myself long layovers between connections. It gives me wiggle room for those inevitable flight delays and changes. 

The first reason I don't travel to a major airport to leave is that it takes me as long to get to one as it does to spend the whole day flying around. The second reason is that the cost is the same. So if I add the cost of travel to a major airport from my small town, storing my car or renting one, and likely needing to get a hotel overnight, it makes no practical sense at all. So I endure. I like to think it builds character. Little tortures can do that.

Once you get to Athens

Usually it takes me about thirty hours of flying around to get to Athens. I have some small health issues that demand I sleep there. My favorite place to stay in Athens on my way to Alonissos is at the Athens Airport Sofitel. You walk right out of baggage claim and cross the street to the hotel. You can also grab a subway car or taxi to go someplace else. The Sofitel can be a bit pricey but the convenience is unparalleled. 

Leaving Athens

The easiest way to continue the journey toward Alonissos or any island in the Northern Sporades from Athens is a flight. It's a short flight to the island in the Northern Sporades with an airport, Skiathos. Do give yourself two hours at the Athens airport to board this quick flight. It's a busy place and can take a while to check in to your little island flight. I use a Greek travel agent for interior travel in Greece. If you'd like the contact info just shoot me a message to the right of this blog. 

When you're taking one of these flights you're going to check your luggage at whatever area your airline is at. You'll pass through security and when they begin boarding at your gate, you'll get on a bus and be taken to your plane from there. So hit the restroom beforehand and you might want a bottle of water. Not all of the little carriers provide drinks because they're fast flights.

Arriving in and leaving Skiathos

Skiathos recently updated their airport. Airport is "Aerodromio" in Greek. The airport's name is Papadiamante. He was a writer from the island and you can tour his home while you're on the island if you have the time. First though, pick up your luggage and get transportation into town. I always use a taxi. It's not expensive but you may need to scoot over because they often put other fares in with you. 

From the Skiathos airport you'll probably be heading to the port (port in Greek is "Limani") to get your ferry to Alonissos. Right at the port is the ferry office. It's wise to have already booked your ferry before arriving, but you will probably still need to dart in there to exchange your ferry voucher for a ferry ticket. There's a difference and don't wait for the ferry to show up before you do it. The ferries go in and out fast. 

By the way there are slow moving ferries with cars and trucks in the hull and also hydrofoils. You can't go outside of the hydrofoil to sit and watch the sea and stops at ports as you pass by the island of Skopelos. I recommend the slow ferry. Sit outside (wear sunscreen and a hat), buy something nice to drink, and watch for dolphins as you slip into Greece mode.

Arriving in Alonissos

You'll need to get your luggage out of the ferry fairly quickly once you arrive. There are only four taxis

on the island, but they're efficient and will get you to where you're staying if you need them. Many of the hotels provide pick up services too.                                                                                                                                                                        On Alonissos you can stay in the port area, Patitiri, or one of the other towns on the island, or even up in Old Town (Hora). I like to stay at the port where I can walk to shops or dinner and beaches. Although my favorite beaches are a taxi or bus ride away. (Leftos Gialos is my all time favorite beach.)                                                                                                            Hopefully this information can get you to Alonissos. Enjoy your stay! It's magical!

Ten Ways Travel Has Changed Since Covid

Hey, I'm back from my long trip to Greece. It was great. How can it be anything but great? I went to Greece for almost a month, but it was tough. It took me four days to get to my destination and on the return trip it took another four days to get home.

On top of that my wimpy constitution reacted to all the travel stress with several days of vestibular migraine. Upon my arrival on Alonissos, my migraine brain celebrated with three days of vertigo. And the same thing happened once I finally got home. So I spent almost a week out of the month trying not to move my head. 

In fact, when vertigo hit again after arriving home I actually thought maybe I shouldn't take this trip. Maybe it's just too much for my wienie body. Then, about two seconds after my vestibular migraine ended I did what I always do. I started booking next year's trip because if I let my big baby body dictate what I do and don't do then I've given up. So maybe that means I'm an optimist. Or maybe that means I'm just stupid. 

Whatever. I do want to weigh in on travel changes I noticed. 

1. People talk less when they wear masks. That's okay because most of the time when they do talk, you can't tell what the heck they are saying anyway. I never realized how much communication is facial or watching someone's mouth. With half of everyone's face covered by a mask forget about it. Especially if there is a big plastic shield at the check-in counter. Now, we all know what it's like to be hard of hearing. Anyone who does have to talk ends up repeating their muffled, garbled words several times. It doesn't help, but they try. You know how when there are announcements on a flight and they finish, people used to ask each other, "What did they say?" Nobody even bothered. I couldn't even tell if they were speaking English or Greek. 
2. For the most part nothing was on time. I had three connections to Athens. Flying has always been hurry up and wait but with the employee shortage, bring a book. You'll be waiting at the gate for the crew or for technicians to check something. In the airplane you'll be waiting for a gate to open up or for the person who drives the gate to the plane to show up. I have to say that on my flights nobody complained. We're resigned. Pack your patience and a book. At least we can go somewhere! My tip would be not to book short layovers, and save yourself some stress.
3. Covid paperwork. Every country requires different paperwork. And if you're flying to say Greece via Amsterdam, you have to follow Amsterdam's Covid restrictions and do their paperwork too. It's probably best to check the embassy's website for the countries you're passing through/going to to find their requirements, rather than say some chick's YouTube channel. But I actually checked both. Requirements change constantly. Do your best. Read through all of the requirements before you react. For instance I started reading the Greek Embassy's rules for incoming travelers. The first part was all about what kind of testing was MANDATORY FOR ALL TRAVELERS. It was long. Part of my brain was already planning how to get this testing done so it wouldn't be older than 72 hours even though it's taking me four days to get there! But the next paragraph read something along the lines of this, IF YOU ARE VACCINATED THAT PARAGRAPH DOESN'T APPLY TO YOU. Sheesh. 
4. You have to wear your mask from the time you arrive at the airport of your departure and you will continue to have to wear that mask through every connecting flight and airport. On the way to Athens I wore an N95 (I can breathe better in them and they don't fog your glasses like most masks). I left here on August 25th and arrived in Athens on August 26th. I had to keep wearing my mask until I checked into my hotel and got to my room. It was almost thirty hours. My nose burned badly. It also bled off and on for days, but then I had to continue to wear it on the next day's flight and then ferries until the 28th of August. My tip would be to bring a lot of masks and change it every four hours. It makes a huge difference. I did that on my return trip and it was much less painful. You will also be asked if you're willing to wear your mask the entire trip before you're allowed to board the flight. 
5. Eating on the flight. We were allowed to pull our masks down to eat on the international flights row by row, but were told to pull them up after every bite. 
6. In the airports that I passed through in the US I'd guesstimate that half of the shops/restaurants/coffee shops were closed. It's probably not a bad time to finagle a way to spend your long layovers in a sky lounge or such.
7. For Greece I took paper copies for my proof of vaccination, their locator forms, all travel info, and pre-registered and pre-paid for Covid testing I'd need to have done within Greece for my return trip. But I also had all that paperwork in my phone. In August there were so many people arriving in Athens and lines to stand in going through Customs, that it's simpler to have a few papers in your hand than being able to pull up whatever paperwork is requested from your phone. Otherwise I'm trying to wake my phone up, make sure it's not losing the charge, and it's downloading so many messages since my arrival that it tends to stroke out. Factor in how fast your phone will figure out where you're at and if you set up a compatible international plan. 
8. Everyone is over-worked and under-staffed. People are trying to do multiple jobs. Travelers are stressed too. They probably paid more for their trip than ever before and likely nothing has gone according to plan. Being kind will go a long way rather than demanding special treatment. Losing your temper should not be an option. Absolutely everyone is tired and stressed. Be kind. Be kind. Be kind. 
9. Hand sanitizer is available everywhere. In airports and in Greece I saw it on every table and there were free-standing dispensers in every spot imaginable. Many times there were free masks too. On planes one of the first things they do is pass out anti-bacterial wipes. In many restaurants half the tables can't be used in order to space people out. It was like that on ferries too. There are also markings on the floors reminding everyone to keep their distance from others and announcements reminding you to do so. 
10. When I finally got to the jet bridge for my flight to Athens, and saw that big plane outside I wanted to dance. I was so thrilled to be able to go somewhere again. I'm one of those people who wanted to travel even as a little kid. I had a mental list of all the places I wanted to go and write about. Why everyone on that plane wasn't cheering was a mystery to me. We were the luckiest. Sure, it's tough to travel right now. It's scary and frustrating and expensive. You have to ask yourself if you really want it and if it's worth it to you. It's okay not to travel. You can have an exciting and thrilling life without traveling. Don't take risks if your gut is telling you not to! But if your gut is telling you to go, that the need outweighs the risk, pack your patience and a good book.

Here I am Sneaking Off to Greece (I hope) —Travel 2021

 

By the time this blog posts, I should be well on my way to New York-Detroit-Athens-Skiathos-Alonissos, Greece. Should. If you've so much as tried to buy plywood or gone out to eat, you probably know that things aren't running smoothly yet. 

The first week after I booked my flight I received two cancellation notices as flights were cancelled and everything needed rescheduled. That's a sticky game when you have connections. So my expectations are modest.

If I get there sometime in August, everything's good!

It'll take me four planes, one ferry, and three entire days before I step off the ferry in Patatiri on the island of Alonissos in the Northern Sporades. It should be an adventure and like with anything we do this year, patience is required. It's never an easy trip, but it's always worth it. I'll sleep in Athens on my way, and Skiathos, and when I hit Alonissos, I'll likely sleep for an entire day. 

Hopefully some of that sleep will be on a beach covered in salty white stones with a monk seal stealing a nap nearby.

The domino effect of this virus and the lockdowns hasn't been easy on any of us. We've lost so many people and so many are hurting. I hope that all of you can find a place that feeds your soul and where you can rest. That's why I decided to pack up and head out into the wild world again. I had to weigh the risk. I've been vaccinated. I've been on lockdown for a good part of all of this. In the end I decided it's better, healthier, for me to go. 

It's a risk. There are no guarantees. But when have there ever been?

Amherst Writers & Artists—Finding Your Voice

 

Amherst Writers & Artists

At my first writing conference I heard well-established writers enthusing about the Amherst Writers & Artists method of writing. It intrigued me because they said that the secret to getting your best story onto the page was to dig deep and write fearlessly. Not worrying about what teachers or professors or other writers might think appealed to me but I had a few unpublished books under my belt and thought I'd figured out how to write. What I wanted to know was how to get someone to publish my book. 

Bet many writers go to conferences like I did, in a hurry to be published and fairly confident that the writing itself isn't an issue.

What I've learned over the ensuing years though is that getting a book published isn't the problem as much as writing the best stories I can. What I've learned is that while many of us may have this big fantasy of what a published book will mean, the fantasy isn't the reality. What I've learned is that if you really love to write your stories and focus on doing it to the best of your ability, absolutely wonderful things can follow.

There's something brilliant and empowering about finding your voice and using it.

Finding your Voice

A few years after I had my first books published I went to an Amherst Writers & Artists workshop on an island in Greece.

I told the facilitator of the workshop that I was currently working on another book and that I'd probably not attend all the daily classes. I wanted to hole up on my balcony alone and write. She responded encouragingly, asking only that I attend the first class to see how it worked. So I did. 

After that first class I went to every single class during the retreat, plus the extra ones they offered in the evenings. I was hooked. Not only that, but every book I wrote after I began to practice the Amherst Writers & Artists method became clearer and better. It was as if I'd once begun to sing with the hint of a frog in my throat, and someone encouraged me to stand taller, to clear my throat, take a deep breath and focus. Then when I sang, they sat in the first row and smiled, gave me a thumbs up, and encouraged me so that I began to sing in my true voice with real confidence.

Amherst Writers & Artists Method

This writing method has intrigued and given me so much back that for years now I've wanted to take their training class and learn whatever magic these workshop leaders impart. I applied for acceptance in their training program recently and was accepted. During the first day of training someone said it's somewhat difficult to explain to someone who hasn't taken an AWA class what it is without sounding like you're in a cult. That cracked me up. I've felt the same when I try to curb my enthusiasm and recommend the classes to other writers.

In fact, I think at least one other writer has asked if I prefer to work only with writers who've trained in the method. 

After completing the training and becoming certified I can answer that question. I prefer to work with supportive people. Amherst Writers & Artists helps writers to discover and share their stories in a safe and supportive environment. Everyone in the group is welcome and everyone is considered a writer of equal standing (published or not). There's no condemnation or criticism. It's not therapy, but it's therapeutic. If you share something close to the bone with someone and they rip it apart, it teaches you to hold back. 

If you share something close to the bone that you're writing and other writers tell you what works in the piece—it empowers your writing voice.

Writing to Prompts

How does this empowering writing method work? It seems incredibly simple but so do many of the moves you see in the Olympics. The facilitators of the workshops guide the writers through a series of writing prompts. Participants write for a specified amount of time, then read out loud in turn. That's the scary part for most writers. Feedback. If it sends you into a panic, or you don't want to share, you always have the option to pass. This is when the introverts in the group breathe a collective sigh of relief. (I know I did.)

It's fine if you don't want to read. Yet, if you do choose to share, or when you're ready to share and read (even if your voice shakes), the reward is great. The other writers in your group will listen closely and they'll tell you what works for them about the piece. They won't infringe on or criticize your work, they won't red line or comment on grammar, it's a first draft for pity's sake! They'll simply tell you what stood out, what they heard, and what works for them. That feedback is invaluable.

"So much depends upon..." is one of my favorite writing prompts. I think I've written to it in every class I've ever taken/taught. Not two answers have ever been the same. Another thing I've loved about this method is the privilege of listening to so much brilliant writing. I invite you to write to the prompt, for about four minutes. If you do, and want to share, leave it in the comments below or email it to me and I'll tell you what works for me. Below, I share what I wrote to it in my last class.

So much depends upon...time.

    How much do you get? A cup? Half a cup?

    How will you spend it? On yourself? On your people? Work? Kids? Family?

Science thrills me.

    I have big books about time.

    That Stephen Hawkings one.

    Or Julian Barbour who doesn't believe in time.

    He says everything happened at the same time.

    The Big Bang—the formation of the universes—humanity here on earth.

    Just whoosh here—then everything gone.

    No time. Could our concept of time simply be how our minds are capable of perceiving existence?

    Like dogs and color?

It doesn't really matter I figure.

Time. Perception. It's brief.

    It's a half a cup of whoosh.

    I'll take it.

Keening Under the Strawberry Moon—Life in the Time of COVID-19

Nina's Pansion Alonissos, Greece

Today I won't be leaving The Shire here in New York to fly to Detroit to then fly to a different airport in New York and on to Athens, Greece. 

Tomorrow I won't be sleeping at the Sofitel Hotel that's only a quick walk from baggage claim. I won't be grabbing a taxi into downtown Athens to walk up to the Acropolis. I won't be darting into the Acropolis Museum to see the Caryatids or to pick up a notebook from the gift shop.

Tomorrow night I won't have a Greek Salad for dinner in my favorite taverna in Plaka. I won't have a glass of retsina and see the Strawberry Moon—the full moon in June—rising over the Acropolis. I won't meander back to the Sofitel across from the Athens Airport and sleep the deep untroubled, pre-COVID 19, sleep of a woman heading for her favorite writing retreat.

The day after tomorrow I won't wake up early and hurry back to the Athens Airport. I won't greet the barista behind the counter of Starbucks with Kalimera and enjoy a chai latte and banana before boarding my flight on Olympic Air to the island of Skiathos. 

The day after tomorrow I won't crowd into a taxi with four strangers and race to the port to catch my ferry to Alonissos. I won't sit outside on the deck in the sun and wind and watch the ice blue ferry wake, hoping to see dolphins in it.

The day after tomorrow I won't arrive in Patitiri, the Port of Alonissos, that quiet magical island that I dream of all year long. I won't drag my suitcase down the ramp dodging trucks and cars and hurrying to hug some of my favorite people in the world. I won't be greeted by Chrisoula. I won't see Julie's white hat. I won't haul my suitcase up four or five flights of stairs to my favorite room in the pansion overlooking the port. 

I won't walk up the steep hill to the shops for vegetables, olive oil, olives, and feta. I won't buy a pot of fresh lavender to put on my balcony where I won't write every night. I won't sit with the women writers I call my kula every day and write, or listen to them read their writing out loud. 

There will be no carrying bottles of water up all those flights of stairs every day. There will be no greeting familiar faces with Yassos. There will be no hiring a taxi to take me to Leftos Gialos, my favorite beach on the island, no welcome dinner at Elenas with tables scattered inside an olive grove while the Aegean touches the shore. I won't greet Yaya who makes the spinach pies and sits beneath a giant olive tree in her scarf and wishes a friendly kalisperra to every guest.

There will be no donkeys, no hikes up the donkey trail to Kali Thea, no massages or yoga with Bibi and Lee. There will be no sunsets in Old Town. No writing tucked in chairs beneath cascades of bougainvillea. No losing track of time and staying so late I have to call my favorite taxi driver and ask please, parakalo, don't make me walk the donkey trail in the dark.

Billy the Seal may very well slide up onto the port beach and steal someone's lounge chair but it won't be mine. There will be no thundering music at The Drunk Seal, no gathering with friends at Carolis for olives and sparkling water, no midnight gelatto. 

Yet, I've had that, because despite COVID-19, I am the luckiest writer you never heard of. Next year maybe I'll go back and I will once more wallow in my perfect paradise. Only not this year and for today, tomorrow, and maybe the day after tomorrow, I'm going to allow myself to miss that. 

Circe by Madeline Miller—My Latest Good Read

Another one for your TBR pile!

First, Bibliophile Details

I read Circe in hardcover. I'd also put a copy on my Kindle App. It's something I often do in case I go on a trip in the middle of my book. In this case I never opened the Kindle copy. I got the book from the Book of the Month Club. The subscription was a gift. 

It's a Little, Brown and Company book. The cover is matte and pleasant to the touch. The paper is a nice quality and the pages are easy to turn. Reading it was a pleasant visceral experience.

Beware, there be spoilers ahead

Circe is about the immortal goddess, daughter of Helios. The story world is one readers will be familiar with if they know their Greek myths. Even if you've never read them you'll probably know more than you realize from movies and pop culture. 

The author does a lovely job of giving it her own twist and provides excellent details about the hierarchy of the gods from Kronos to Zeus, and from Titans to the "new-squeaking gods upon Olympus who had not seen the making of the world". 

The details are delicious and the fate of the nymphs brings an excellent arterial vein take on subjugated females to the tale.

The Ugly Truth

Immortality is an idea that's intrigued me since I wrote my immortal warrior story. So I loved Miller's ruthless, spoiled, childish gods. They are heartless to each other. There's no love between them. They're cruel and delight in inflicting misery on each other. 

It makes sense to me that an immortal would lack empathy, but occasionally the chronic meanness was a heavy read.

Circe is a goddess and nymph with less than perfect looks and no discernible talents. The other gods can barely tolerate her. She's loyal but aware of her situation and reads her people well. 

After wreaking revenge on a fellow nymph Circe gets banished to a Greek Island. (That's my personal dream scenario. What god do I need to offend for that?)

You Go Girl

Most of Circe's life passes alone on that isolated island. She discovers her strengths and weaknesses there. Her father is Helios who rides his chariot across the sky as the sun each day. He can see her if he cares to, so he and other gods can know what she's up to though they ignore her even when she needs help.

Shipwrecked mortals occasionally knock on her door. Circe has a weakness for them though they disappoint her possibly more than the gods did. 

What worked for me was both the world Miller detailed and Circe's depth. She recognizes her faults as well as the faults of those around her. Despite having the ability to eternally be as selfish or comfortable as the other gods she constantly searches for meaning and growth despite the judgement and misery she brings on herself. 

Not that she's perfect. She has a real talent for vengeance. 

I'd give it four stars

The five star system doesn't work for me. Since I write too I always see the hard work behind the story and want to give five stars for

Stephanie Karfelt

that. Yet I think of all the stellar literature I've had the pleasure to read and drop it down a notch to be fair. 

Circe is a good solid read. I'm glad I read it and I enjoyed it. If you're into mythology you'll want to dig in. 

Next! Bring on another hardcover!

You and I both know I'm chapters into that next book already, but we'll talk about that one another day. 

That One Time I Got Stranded on the Island of Skiathos in Greece

Without naming names I can tell you that once I got stuck behind the Disney Electric Light Parade in Disneyland California. As Aladdin flew by on his magic carpet and Cinderella waved from her carriage, the preschoolers I was with fell to the ground and sobbed out the injustices of their lives. Their heartless mother laughed and laughed with zero pity in her heart. 

Don't you wish you could be stuck in Disneyland right now?

Every summer I go to a writing workshop on a tiny island in the Aegean Sea. The workshop is hard work. Getting there is hard work. To get there this year I'll be flying from a small airport in New York to Detroit. Then I'll fly from Detroit to Chicago. After that it's an overnight flight from Chicago to Athens, Greece. Mind you before I leave Chicago I'll have been traveling for twelve hours already.

When I get to Athens I'll stay at the Airport Sofitel. After twenty-four hours of travel it's time to sleep. The next day I fly from Athens to the island of Skiathos. It's a popular tourist destination for parts of Europe. I meet people from England, Germany, and Italy there. 

Depending on my flight from Athens and the ferry schedule, sometimes I spend a night in Skiathos. I like to stay around the port area. I walk along Papadiamanti Street and the sea. It's very touristy with yogurt shops and tavernas. There are kababs of chicken souvlaki, blindingly strong cups of Greek coffee, and places to buy a wide brimmed hat to wear on the ferry. 

Like many towns in Europe the streets are filled with pedestrians but SURPRISE it is a road too so watch out for scooters and vehicles while you shop or use the ATM. 

Usually I stay at the Aretousa, Filoxenia, Hotel Kostis, or Meltemi. Sometimes the stars align just so and after a few hours of wandering the port I can catch a ferry to Alonissos the same day. 

There are slow ferries and fast ferries/hydrofoils. The slow ones are huge and filled with cars and trucks ferrying between islands. I like to slather myself in sunscreen, plop on a hat and sit outside on the slow ferry and watch the sea as we stop by Skopelos (of Mama Mia island fame). Sometimes dolphins swim the ferry wake. 

No matter how long it takes me to get to this point I always know that it's all been worth the effort as the stress of a long journey drowns behind me in ferry wake the color of wintergreen breath mints. 

Eventually we arrive in the port of Alonissos. Gathering luggage and disembarking is chaotic, but this place feels like home. 

The return journey is the same thing in reverse. It's not nearly as refreshing though—leaving is always hard. I get nostalgic, farewell monk seals, farewell to my balcony over the port, farewell writers, farewell Aegean blues, dolphins, tomatoes, and lavender.

Skiathos seems loud and abrasive now, something to be endured after my weeks of floating and writing. But I make my way to the Skiathos airport and drift to my seat at the gate and wait, wait, wait. 

Once after several delays my flight never arrived. Cancelled. My vacation float vanished that quickly. I had a hotel in Athens that night and an early morning flight in the morning. That flight would be airborne before I could get tomorrow's flight out of Skiathos.

I was STRANDED in Greece, TRAPPED on Skiathos. I took it better than those preschoolers at Disney. On the outside.

My hotel in Athens was non-refundable. I'd chosen the cheaper fare. My Greek travel agent took my call at nearly midnight, apologizing though he'd done nothing wrong and booking me a hotel for tomorrow. I tried to call my international airline's 800 number to change that flight home. Those numbers don't work internationally. They're for the USA only.

Around me airline employees began the slow process of re-booking people. There was no quick computer processing. There was literal paperwork going on. People rudely fussed when instructions were given first in Greek, "WHY AREN'T THEY SPEAKING ENGLISH?" This amused me since we were in Greece! Don't blame that comment on Ugly American Syndrome either. I was the only one and I'd lost all hope of going anywhere fast. 

Eventually I was the last person there, still trying to contact my international airline to re-book. I got caught in a loop. I couldn't dial an 800 number from Greece, but I couldn't dial the international number from my American cell phone either. One of the Skiathos employees let me use their phone. I got a new flight to the US leaving in a few days. 

Now I was officially STUCK in GREECE. tee-hee. Let's be real, this is kind of my goal in life. 

Now I had plenty of time, except the lights were being dimmed in the Skiathos airport and employees were leaving. Someone opened their wallet and handed me cash—not vouchers—for dinner. They put me in a lone taxi back to the port area and gave me a hotel to

stay at. That's how I discovered the Meltemi hotel. 

Despite the late hour the port area was in full swing. I picked up bottles of water, dragged my luggage up three flights of stairs to the FIRST floor and dropped into bed. TRAPPED in Greece. I fell asleep watching feet walk up and down the old stone steps outside my window. It was the best night. Ever.

Nothing against Detroit or Philadelphia, but they've got NOTHING on getting stuck somewhere when your flight gets cancelled. Do you feel my joy? Or was that time you got stuck somewhere not wonderful? Dish.

My Balcony on Alonissos is Magic but The Floor of My Closet Kinda Rocks Too—What Matters Most

At the end of the book Me Before You by JoJo Moyes the main character goes to Paris to sit at a table in an outdoor cafe and experience something profound. I'd tell you what it was, but aside from her acquiring the resources to do it I didn't get it. 

It's not that sitting in an outdoor cafe in a foreign country can't be great, it's a lot of fun. It's not that you can't experience personal growth there, because I think travel is great that way. You see another culture, you get a bigger perspective of the world, you endure the humiliation of air travel. Travel is a great growth experience.

Until 2015 the bulk of my travel was engineering or writing conferences. There was the rare trip across the border into Mexico, and many times I got dragged to Canada to watch my family fish. I usually sat in a cabin under a mosquito net and wrote. But in 2015 I started exploring places I'd read about and always wanted to go see.

It is super cool to sleep on a houseboat in Amsterdam, take a train in Germany, climb inside the Great Pyramid of Giza, or visit Stonehenge. But the ugly truth is sometimes travel is boxed and shallow like a mega mall or amusement park. The same trinkets made in China are sold to tourists in many places. The same photos show up on Instagram—with fast food places, ugly buildings, and tons of tourists carefully cropped out of the shot. The same McDonald's and Kentucky Fried Chicken are nearly everywhere. 

As Mr. Brady so profoundly put it, "Wherever you go there you are." It's not about the place. It's about you. From my point of view a great many tourists don't even care what they're looking at. I've found that if I wait patiently, like an entire ten minutes, that the latest ferry-load or bus-load or ship-load of tourists will clear out of a site, heading for snacks or the next big thing and I can take some epic photos without zillions of people milling about.

That's not always the case. Sometimes those ship-loads of tourists are timed exactly ten minutes apart.

The point is if you're not at a place in your life when you CAN travel, I'm going to go against the crowd here and tell you that you might not be missing as much as rumored. In this day and age you can research a place in-depth and learn about it. I did that old school for places like the Colosseum, The Forum, The Pyramids, and the Acropolis long before the opportunity to go there came along.

Wait for it. Make sure you want it. 

Sure June isn't summer without the Strawberry Moon and sitting beneath a starry sky writing on my balcony in Alonissos, but I think it's fifty years of longing that make Greece so magical for me. 

When I started writing with true intention to get my work published, I did it sitting on a bench with a pencil and paper in my bedroom with the door shut. When I want absolute quiet I like to find a spot on the rim of the Grand Canyon and sit there, somewhere away from the crowds. Sometimes I find that quiet walking in the woods at night. Often it's simply when I'm writing in my messy office.

On busy days before I wrote full-time, my breaks came about when I slid to the floor of my closet. I'd hide there and listen to my own breath as long as I could get away from it.

For me, a person who is interested in most everything, it's the quiet that I cherish.

Many times people in Greece have asked me what the heck I do on the quiet island of Alonissos for a month. I could see Santorini, Crete, or Mykonos! they say.

They don't get it. I know what I long for and I wonder, do they? Do you? Therein lies your magic. 

Hello Real World—Alonissos is Better

It's nearly time to head to Alonissos again. I've already begun my packing. During winter I dream of that island. My days in Greece are magical and I write constantly, submitting to whatever the muse thinks needs written. The workshop has always been fantastic. The women writers are gifted and kindred spirits. 

Last year I dragged my laptop on the three day journey each way, on and off planes, up and down stairs and ramps deep in the bowels of ferries. I climb so many stairs that they seem as much a part of Greece as the blinding white light and colorful villages built into hillsides. 

It's like traveling with a Stairmaster

But never again, I promised myself, will I take my laptop to Greece. Turns out I'm always much too busy writing to work on my laptop. A pile of sharp pencils and a notebook are all I need to write. Writing by hand is how the Women Reading Aloud workshops work. 

Writing by hand is magical if I've never told you before. I think our brain and deep writer voice work about that speed.

Last year I nearly lost a couple feet boarding a rocking ferry in bad weather while dragging my luggage and laptop. Waves shoved the ship up and I stepped forward clutching all my luggage to show my passport, so absorbed in what I was doing that I didn't realize my toes were under the rocking ramp. Fortunately the guy behind me noticed and pulled me back before the ship came down again. 

That only serves to strengthen my resolve to leave my electronics with all excess baggage at home. 

After the workshop had ended last September, I stayed longer to write more, to do some research for a book, and to be still. One of the things I enjoy about the island I go to in the Northern Sporades is the quiet. I recognize people after all these years. The first couple days I meet up with friends and hike or go swimming at night. 

This past trip I finally saw a monk seal for the first time in all the years I've gone to my workshop. Alonissos is a marine park. It's a preserve for the seals, but there's one seal who the locals call Billy who likes to sun himself on some of the same beaches tourists enjoy. 

Billy was deep into his bliss as I watched him from a distance. Rumor has it that Billy bites. I could just imagine me trying to explain a seal bite to my husband when I got home. While I stood near Billy he never moved until I muttered to myself, is he alive? He lifted his head as though he'd heard me and gave me a look before quickly ducking back into bliss position just as I made a move for my camera. I like him.

He doesn't pander.

In the evenings on Alonissos I sit on my balcony and write by candlelight. Greece is so hot during the day that people tend to stay in for siesta and come out late for dinner. It's not unusual for children to play in the park at midnight or for music from the tavernas to drift up to my room until four in the morning. 

Sitting at my small table overlooking the Aegean Sea I write, enjoying the cooler night air while curtains dance in the breeze and I sip cup after cup of sagey mountain tea sweetened with local honey.

On my last night I paid tribute to the port that unfolded below my balcony; to the tiny Scops owls I only ever hear (but someday hope to see just like the monk seal); to the moon that lit the dark sky before waning away as my days turned into weeks and then a month; to the loud ferries; and the limes growing from trees over the stairwell that bumped my head when I went past. 

Now I'm home and prepping for this year's journey. Over the winter I sorted through piles and miles of books. It desperately needed to be done. It made me smile to discover that I have a small pile of Goodnight Moon books. I have the cardboard one from when my kids were babies, versions for older kids, and some in other languages (I used to try to sneak learning in while they were too small to notice). I even recently bought a copy of Goodnight Lab—a clever knock off for the newest baby in the family. No wonder I had to write my own version from my balcony overlooking the Port of Alonissos, Patitiri. 

Goodnight port, goodnight Scops owls whispering whom.

Goodnight light and the waxing moon.

Goodnight ferries, goodnight limes, goodnight lavender,  goodnight rhymes.

Goodnight Alonissos and these magical times.

If you want to chat about the book world and writing, sign up for my monthly newsletter. Drop me your email at TheGlitterGlobe@gmail.com. Wonderful things have been happening around here.

Some of this year's writerly travels will be found here on my blog. Though I plan to do more floating than fooling with WiFi this year. I'll be working at writing speed, one foot in front of the other speed, pencil on paper speed. That's the speed of magic, did you know? Slow magic is my thing. 

Holding onto my Vacation Joy in the Real World

S.R. Karfelt/The Glitter Globe

HOME SWEET HOME 

That should read Home Sweet Chaos. You know what it's like to leave your real life to travel a few months out of the year? It's like you're now hopelessly behind in everything. 

You will never catch up. Not unless reincarnation is a thing. Accept that you need to downsize your life in order to travel. Take a deep breath. Dig up some patience that connecting flights and the TSA hasn't already stolen from you. There you go. Now start going through everything and getting rid of all the stuff you don't need and while you're at it clean off and organize your computers too.

Have some nice family gatherings and take the time to cook real food at least once a year. Also, order a magic wand off Amazon. Check reviews because you're gonna need a real one this time.


GREECE HIGHLIGHTS AND LOW-LIGHTS

Highlights. A monk seal on the public beach. Why is seeing a wild animal up close and personal out in the world so amazing? Maybe it's because their eyes are not sad and they look right into yours. A night swim under the dark moon. The Aegean was so cold I froze. The locals ran into the sea and immediately back out. It was perfection just the same. Nights I sat on my balcony and wrote by candlelight. My nose nearly touched the page I leaned so close to see my scribbled words. But I loved sitting there in the warm night breeze and listening to the sounds in the port.

Even low-lights were highlights. While taking a meandering walk in Skiathos I wound up at the edge of an airport runway when a jet was taking off. I learned all about jet blasts. I'm happy to report I didn't die. I'm sure it will be useful in a novel someday. AGAIN getting tagged by the TSA as a person of interest. Now I know what it feels like to be profiled, AGAIN. Searched. Slowed-down. Felt-up. It's annoying, but once more it's good novel fodder. Let's pretend I mean that last bit. 



GLUTEN-FREE

Sofitel Hotel Restaurants make their own freshly baked gluten-free bread. In a month of traveling I only stayed at one. I easily ate my month's allotment of bread there. It was so good.

Eating gluten-free is a pain. It turns you into a difficult customer as soon as you walk into a restaurant. 

I'm pretty sure I've heard the wait-staff's eyes rolling when I say I have to eat gluten-free. I sympathize. But since they're not the ones who have to pee blood if I get gluten, I'm wildly and annoyingly cautious.

Eating out isn't appealing to me anymore. In Greece I cooked my own meals as much as possible. I even skipped my free breakfasts most of the time. Mostly I ate salad without dressing, yogurt, fresh fruit, or vegetables and grilled fish. Also gelato, because balance. 

If you contact airlines ahead of time they offer gluten-free meals via their websites. Trying to find a simple banana between planes became a quest. Rome's Fiumicino Airport is one of those airports crossed with a high-end mega-mall. Who the hell decided to splice the stress of airport travel with the labyrinth torment of a galleria? Ugh.

I never did find any fresh fruit but I only had FOUR HOURS to look. They definitely didn't have any in the Gucci, Prada, or Billionaire stores. Nor in the gluten-packed pasta shops. Can you hear the creak of my eyeballs rolling? To be fair I did purchase an excellent Leonardo da Vinci Vitruvian Man notebook there and a seven euro bottle of what I think was water. It tasted a lot like it, so there's that. 


BOOKS I READ

At the last minute I had to toss my hardcover copy of The Book of Joy by Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu out of my suitcase. I should have also tossed out my laptop because not only did I not use it in Greece, but it almost cost me all of my toes as I dragged two roller-bags onto a wildly rocking ferry. 


Instead I read The Alice Network by Kate Quinn. Thanks to a kind stranger I even had all my toes intact while I did it. At the advice of my editor I'd put it on my kindle app, and I read it in stolen moments here and there. Mostly while eating breakfast yogurt and drinking Greek Mountain Tea. It's about female spies in WWI and WWII, but it's also about not fitting in and being yourself. I'd rate it four stars and recommend it. It's a good read. 

A friend on Alonissos loaned me a copy of Neil Gaiman's The Ocean at the End of the Lane, and I finally at long last became a Gaiman fan. It's about a man revisiting his family home while on his way to a funeral and discovering long-forgotten secrets and well-hidden memories. For me this book held the kind of magic I found years ago in Madeline L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time and Many Waters. I loved it. If you've ever enjoyed any Fantasy book, read it.

On my flight home I couldn't settle on a single movie and shelled out for in-flight WiFi, but even that didn't do it. So I looked through my Kindle App books and ignoring all my high-brow selections like Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy I went with a little Urban Fantasy book called Protecting His Witch by Zoe Forward. I can be a real snoot about editing and was in a persnickety and tired traveler mood and nearly shut it down early on, but then the story grabbed me. It's about a veterinarian dimension-hopping witch who turns out to be one of the seven Pleiades and her hot druid-sentry born to tend to her needs. I kinda need one of those myself. If he knows Excel and can also sort my Outlook email mess that is. I liked it.


WRITERLY STATUS

Back to reality. I'm writing my vampire book and talking to a story

editor. I'm also in need of a Personal Assistant a few hours a week and think I may have found someone. The help would be welcome. Writing is my dream job, but it is a lot of work, especially with research and traveling.

My attic is mostly cleaned up. The mice who have secretly been living there have been evicted. I've sorted through decades of stuff and sworn off buying things. It was a tough job for me. Giving away so many books felt like saying goodbye to old friends. Cleaning out stuff from when my kids were little or papers I wrote ages ago hurt. But I did it. I lost at least a dump-truck sized pile of excess. I feel lighter already. Hanging onto your happiness takes real work, have you noticed that? It's so worth it.