Deepening

Deepening, deepening...
It is now the beginning of the dark winter half of the year. Last night ended Daylight Saving Time, and now the dawn comes earlier in the morning by the clock. But the darkness closes in earlier in the evening. Here at the 44th parallel the next several weeks will bring shorter periods of daylight than I have ever experienced.

In the past, I have greeted this time of year with dread. I love the Sun and the daylight. When the sun sets is bedtime, for my body-clock. Life in this time and place means that sunset bedtime in winter is really not feasible; nor could I sleep for 14-16 hours a night in the best of times. So for the past month I have been developing ways to change my mind-set.

It began as I noticed my annual Stiffening-of-the-Joints as cooler weather began to set in. I decided to  open each day with a modified Sun Salutation (this old sciatica-prone bod can't do Downward Facing Dog any more). As I stretched and breathed my way towards greater flexibility (with resounding success, I might add), I found myself grounded and wanting to pause and meditate when the movements were finished.

So I began to follow the yoga session with meditation, sitting in Hunt's rocking chair, facing Dyer Harbor as the sun rose higher in the sky. I cherish this time now: ground and center, call upon wisdom, courage and strength to guide me, surrounded and penetrated by the light of Love. I then hold my loved ones in that Light, and then any names that float into my consciousness as needing that infusion of grace.

One image that comes forward almost daily is that of a small boy with big round eyes, looking insecure as if he doesn't really know where he belongs in the world. I suspect that he had very little cuddling and nurturing, lacked a sense of unconditional love and the security of firm, clear boundaries. So I try to conclude my litany of names by holding that little boy in my lap, hugging him, and assuring him that he is abundantly loved. He currently holds the highest office in the nation, and his behavior is classic in my experience as a teacher, of one who never had that necessary combination of love and boundaries. So I try to offer it retroactively.

I arise, drink my tea, check in on my internet community, and go forth into the day. I find I am welcoming the increasing darkness much more openly, looking forward to experiencing the Solstice in this new home, and intending to develop rituals and traditions to make the bleak period from January to April less a time to "get through" and more a time for gratitude and growth. Welcome, Winter.

Part V: Leave Her, Johnny

Part V-

Leave her, Johnny

The last 24 hours of our trip gave us a taste of another aspect of sea voyages. We made a night passage from Ereikoussa to Santa Maria de Leuca in Italy, on the heel of the boot. After a quiet, restful evening and a light omelette supper made by our host, we set off. It had been hoped that the waves would subside, as they usually do in the evening. But oh, what a time we had! Rollicking all the way, there was no sleep for the weary. Hunt took a watch with one of the crew, but I stayed in my bunk (except for a few inevitable trips to the head) and hoped the boat would hold together for the rest of the trip. Which, of course, it did! I finally dozed, and woke to blinding sunlight and calm waters in the harbor.

We soon bade farewell to the wonderful friends we had enjoyed for 12 days, and took a taxi to the small city of Lecce. The driver spoke almost no English, we speak no Italian, but he and I managed to carry on in fractured French. Our B&B was located in a part of the town that restricted most vehicles, and our taxi/van was too big for the street, so he called a cab driver friend who met us beneath a beautiful church and drove us the rest of the way.

Casa li Santi was in a beautiful old building on a quiet, ancient street. Our room had tiled floors and a vaulted ceiling. We walked around the city, had espresso and fresh fruit at a delightful café and watched the people walking by. It was a magical ending to our journey.

The next day we took a 5-hour train trip through the rolling Apennines to Rome. The last leg of our trip passed in a blur- Rome is a large, modern city and after the serenity of our days on Impala, we were in shock from the contrast. We stayed at Sotto la Cupola, a B&B across from Vatican City, and we wandered around the neighborhood and through Piazza San Pietro but opted not to fight the crowds to go inside and see the treasures- it was just too much. And the flavor of the place belied its stated spiritual intent- hawkers, vendors, armored tanks manned by young men with machine guns- as we approached the line for the Sistine Chapel an elderly woman shoved Hunt into the street- so we determined that the purpose of our time in Rome was to sit in sidewalk cafes and drink espresso, and that we did.

We arrived home safe and sound to an ecstatic dog, and since then we have been settling back in and rejoicing in the good fortune that allowed us to make this trip, thanks to generous friends and happy concatenations of circumstances.

Since our return, we have bought a boat! Inspired by the Drascombe Lugger we saw off Paxos, we now are the happy owners of a Drascombe Dabber we had dubbed “Puffin.” We are painting the hull, varnishing the spars and arranging for a mooring, and soon we hope to sail again, under our own Maine skies.

Today is the Summer Solstice. Here in our northern clime, the daylight lasts much longer than it did in our old home in NH, or in Greece, for that matter. Today we have daylight for approximately 15 ½ hours. The summer is short and the winter is long, and we are savoring every moment of every day, for every moment is a gift.

Part IV

Sarande, Albania

What little we saw of this non-EU country was a study in contrasts. On the one hand, unbridled real estate speculation in the late 1990s and early 2000s has resulted in an urban jungle of derelict high rises that had started out with the potential to become luxury hotels and resorts. Now, one in 4 buildings is occupied, although this is still a resort town and very much on the tourist path for cruise ships from Croatia, the Netherlands, and elsewhere. The streets were crowded with tourists, locals, and beggars on every street corner, often haggard women with young children, with a Romany look. But whoever we met greeted us with warmth and kindness, even though here there are far fewer who speak English with any ease. In the evening, the muzzerein called from a nearby minaret; competing with the local bumper cars blaring pop music. No one among the crowds was seen to stop at the call to worship; the chief business of the harborside was vacationing and all accompanying activities.

View of Sarande from the Hotel Palma cafe.

On the other hand, venture just a few miles out of the city into a timeless, beautiful country. We had the opportunity to hire a car and driver twice. The first day, our host and his wife, and Hunt and I, were driven to the ruins of Butrint. There can be found well-preserved evidence of Roman, Byzantine and Venetian occupation. The area was clean, well marked, and very lovely. The ride to and from Butrint took us through beautiful farmland with distant hills.

Roman wall with ancient tree root.

It’s so easy to generalize and stereotype, but we found that wherever we traveled, people were eager to be kind, to take the time to get to know us, and we wished for more time to get to know them. It is a truth that should be universally acknowledged that we are all more alike than different.

Our two crew members had rented a car to go adventuring into the mountains. They found themselves on washed-out roads and had to spend a night far from Saranda, where they were taken in by locals who had never been visited by Americans before. This adventure caused a day’s delay, so we had another day in Sarande. So Hunt and I got another car and driver, who took us east this time, to the Blue Eye Springs, so-called because the combination of water chemistry and the nature of the soil, rocks, etc. causes the pools of water to appear in ranges of vivid turquoise, resembling blue eyes. The Blue Eye was stunning in and of itself, but the drive there and back showed even more glorious countryside. First, past towns and villages (one had a cow walking down the main street!). Then past farmland, and one section that had a hodgepodge of tents, trailers and tarps, with barefoot children, dogs and chickens lurking about. Our guide spoke very little English, so I wracked my brain for the question I had. It came: “Tsigane? Roma? Gypsies?” “Yes!” asserted our guide. “I like that they are here.” A refreshing attitude! Up into the hills, past shrines, campsites, farms, and sheep and shepherds, to the Blue Eye.

Blue Eye, near Muzinë in Vlorë County, Albania.

Hunt and I had been sleeping poorly, so our stay in Sarande was also a chance for a few nights in the hotel right next to the dock. The Hotel Palma is a “luxury hotel” with a broken VISA machine but otherwise comfortable beds, hot showers and a cozy café, where we had many a cup of kaffe and the best marmalade I have ever had. And a warm  and friendly waitress named Luli, who would be a friend if we could have a chance to spend time together. She had virtually no English, so we communicated through a Google translate app on my phone!

Luli (R) and me.

Amazingly, heavenly jam and marmalade.

Finally, the lads returned, muddy and exhausted from their adventures in the mountains. One last dinner out as a family, then a morning’s departure for the first leg of our long voyage to Italy. At first the wind was almost becalmed, then it picked up and gave us a wild ride, gusting to 35 knots at times. We came in and anchored in the harbor of Ereikoussa, one of the last of the Greek Ionian islands. The harbor was much calmer, so we rested and had a light supper and a nap before making our night passage to the heel of the boot.

Soaked from the waves, but triumphant.

Saying a sad goodbye to Greece.

 

Part III- The Magic of Paxos

Paxos, Sunday, May 21-Weds, May 24.

Days among the lotus-eaters: how to describe the sensory overtones of this trip? From the moment we arrived in Greece we could feel the sweetness of the air, even in the city of Athens. These overtones have resonated more richly and ever deeper as we explore the islands and the sea. And now we are in Paxos. 

There is the same salty tang as at home, the seagulls sing the same song. But the colors are softer, the language exotic, and over all rings the ancient history of this place. There are thousands of years of life brimming over here. 

From my perch in the stern I could see lemons ripe in trees, bougainvillea, geraniums, pink, yellow and cream-colored buildings, all with red tile roofs. Tavernas lure locals and travelers, men are driving by on motorbikes and tiny cars and vans. The harbor town of Gaios on the island of Paxos sits mostly along the long shoreline, where fishing boats and charter boats come and go, but none so lovely as Impala, an elegant Sparkman & Stephens boat built in the 1950s. We were greeted by the owners of the taverna, Pan and Theo, who recognized the boat and made us welcome. We ate most of our meals there, took showers, used their internet, enjoyed their relaxed friendliness.

The people of Gaios are warm and have good humor. Hunt had an encounter with an elderly man (the people in the tavern told us he is 95 years old)- they both shook their canes at each other with knowing grins. 

We strolled the streets past charming ancient doorways, under stone arches, down incredibly narrow streets lined with shops that mingle tourist goods with hardware, groceries and services used by locals and visitors alike. Hunt bought me a ring at a local jewelry store, made by designer Doretta Tondi. We had a final dinner at Mediterranea, a restaurant whose grilled fish gave us an out-of-body experience. Our young waiter reminded us of a friend back home. And when he learned we were American, he said, “Oh! Will you take me home with you??” It’s good to know the dream is still alive. Conversely, Hunt and I dream of renting a villa on one of the steep streets above the town and staying here for a month of painting, writing and exploring.

As we left Paxos, we headed up the coast towards the harbor town of Lakka. On our way we encountered a Drascombe Lugger, a delightful open-hull boat, with a man and woman aboard whom Hunt and I would have loved to befriend.

Lakka harbor was filled with pleasure boats, and as the afternoon wore on, the boats kept coming. The mouth of the harbor was nearly filled with a giant yacht named King Louis; they pulled out in early evening to reveal the occupants on the topmost deck sitting in their hot tub, watching the crew go through their paces. Alfie took us in the dinghy to a small beach for our first and only swim in the Med, delightfully crystal clear turquoise water, warm yet refreshing. Later that evening we put music on the sound system and danced on deck.

Next stop: Albania!