I wish this blog came with sound. But it doesn't, so while you read this, just hum the following tune to yourself "ta-da (dum dum) ta-da (dum dum)" and it's like a bouzouki is playing in your head.
Yours truly had to hum "om" to himself for the better part of the trip to conserve his sanity. Still, the noise around me couldn't compete with the sights of the Mediterranean.
The dizzyingly deep blues of a seemingly endless ocean, the jagged, brown cliffs of the Greek isles and white homes that looked like Legos stacked under an even more blinding white-hot sun. How does that song go? "Blinded by the liiight..." anyway, that's how I felt. Well, sort of. I was wearing designer shades after all.
Every island has its charm, I guess. But the Greeks have almost 2,000 of them, so some of them are probably not so special and are owned by a Sultan or a Wizard or some other sort of overpaid athlete.
Our trip through Greece began in Mykonos. I was psyched. I was looking forward to the Euro version of the Pines. Instead, I got a bunch of rocks.
Mykonos is like Jones Beach for the Europeans -- it's cheap, seemingly accessible, and laden with somewhat tacky young people. Guidos if you will, only not so fat.
Rhodes was fun if only because we hooked up with a really smart cab driver who took us around the island and off to Lindos -- home of a very impressive archaeoligical site. Along the way the scenery changed from lush green to dangerously arid beige and then back to a million shades of foamy aquamarine.
Santorini was stunning --- the cable car ride up to the top of the mountain was choppy but worth it for the views. We hopped a bus to Oia (Eeh-ah) and I found myself in a yoga position I'd been trying to master for the past two years. I guess I needed the help of 30 smelly French tourists pinning me up against the backdoor of a bus to help me with my flexibility.
Still. For the four days that I was playing Odysseus (in a red speedo and sipping margaritas from a cruiseliner) I couldn't help but feeling like life had given me a little pat on the bum. Every morning a new island would appear outside my window -- one day I'm listening to my iPod on the LIRR headed to Long Beach, the next day I'm in love and splashing around in the Mediterranean.