Greece lightning

PAROS, Greece – Many of you have probably read Love Story, that sentimental tear-jerker by Erich Segal. Remember how he started the novel with his main character, Oliver Barrett IV, struggling to find words perfect enough to describe the love of his life? How he went through a whole list describing his wife in an attempt to capture her in entirety? "What can you say about a twenty-five year- old girl who died? That she loved Mozart and Bach. And the Beatles. And me…" The image he finally presented was a beautiful and unforgettable one, but that’s beside the point. I’m having a similar but even more longwinded problem coming up with how to depict the past few days I’ve spent in the Cyclades in Greece.

Greece struck me like lightning. You know what they say, it never strikes the same place twice.

How does one begin when there is too much to say? Do I start with the two-and-a-half-hour boat ride that carried us on the journey from Athens to Paros, our final destination? Or on how we gasped in awe at the sight of the ship doors opening to a vision of blue and white? Or how I realized how little I knew about the Greek island life besides the few insights gained from the play Mamma Mia and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants? Or how it confuses the photographer in me as to which photos to take, for there are picture-perfect backdrops at every turn? Or how I met the craziest, over the top, cuckoo but most hilarious Scotswoman named Karen who owns the coffee shop beside the school and acts as the students’ psychiatrist? Or how I’ve come to look forward to the weekly Friday hikes over and beyond the hills to the village of Lefkes, location of Yria, a sanctuary and place of meditation? Or how I enjoy stroking the sleek mane of the horse in the open field beside my apartment? Or my failed attempts at figuring out the unpatterned siesta times of the Greeks? Or how my friends and I have to keep hiding from our adopted spotted dog Henry, who keeps following us everywhere on the island – into our rooms and onto the beach? Or the thrilling chills that run through my body every time I jump into the sparkling waters of the Aegean? Or how bright red the mountain bikes we get to call our own for this semester are? Or how we get to go on mini road races that leave us energized but gasping for breath? Or how the cheese, wine, herb and fruit workshops we have leave me all confused but enlightened?

Do I go on to how much I enjoy the potluck dinners we have at the courtyard where I get to taste the best peach cobblers and apple pies baked by my classmates from the South and Midwest? To stimulating conversations held over caffeine and alcohol that stretch ‘til the middle of the night? To drawn out arguments about books and nitpicking at best-selling authors such as Dan Brown? To our frustration with the Greek language, intensified by the fact that my looks don’t exactly encourage locals to speak to me in their native tongue? To the addicting smell of the fixer, hypoclear, developer and various chemicals in the dark room photography studio that leave my clothes all stained because of a refusal on my part to wear an apron? To the faint angelic strains of the vocal ensemble rehearsing tunes for the long-anticipated end of the year concert? To the self-mockery and silliness with which we wear our headlights on the bike ride back to the apartments at night? To the surprising modernity of the computer lab in the school lounge with Apple computers lined up for students to use? To the heartwarming sight of painters stretching their canvas and colors streaking across the page? To the introduction to both the old school 120-millimeter cameras and the miracles Photoshop can perform?

I could go on and on…to my apprehension that memories of this period will fade with no one with this shared experience to talk to when I go back home. To the sobering moment I faced when I heard of the passing of Dr. Jackie Suntay, wife of a deeply respected friend. To cherished moments of sitting in candlelit rooms with fellow students, exchanging bits and pieces of stories from home. To entire mornings spent standing on my front porch, gazing down at town of Paroikia. To sighs at romance found in the dramatic love stories of the teachers. To a questioning of why the rest of the world can’t live this way in blissful simplicity. To the tentative shyness with which each student reads his deepest thoughts expressed through poetry in class. To my hesitance to travel or set foot on any other place during the semester break for fear of losing time on this island.

I do not know where to begin. All I know is that I’ll have a problem with saying goodbye to this sun-drenched island in Greece. At this point, I’m convinced that our school director possesses magical powers of some sort, for he has this sixth sense about most all of us and works wonders with his hands. Or maybe it is the island that has cast a spell on everything it touches? Definitely, it has changed me and brought light to my soul.

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Thanks for writing! For more comments or suggestions, e-mail me at stephaniecoyiuto@yahoo.com.