Part 1 of 4

Its about 9 in the morning, rain is pouring down seemingly out of nowhere this whole house is asleep but I feel like it's christmas morning. Wide awake on only 4 hours. I have a story I need to tell but there's so much.  The list has been delved into over the course of a grand adventure and I'll have to divide it into separate posts but the long and short of it is:

-Visit Denali State Park
- Visit the pyramids in Egypt
- Run with the bulls in Pamplona
- Visit Australia, and New Zealand
- Hike the Pacific Crest Trail 
- Visit the great wall
- Go to France and ride the Alp D’Heuz
- Race in Ironman Hawaii in Kona
- Live on a beach.

4 done. and done.

The story:

Before we even left Greece it felt like we had left Greece. Abbey, Dylan, Dave, Lo and I in one car, driving down the highways, away from our small house and just somewhere new. And it was needed and nice. We had dinner together by the sea.  Fish, feta and ouzo. And we were goofs.  Sat around for too long, risking missing our ferry, being served free drinks on top of our wine and it was all quite glorious.

We arrived in Igoumonitsa with just enough time to buy our tickets and climb on the ferry. And, since Dylan and Dave haven't been around long enough to know how to keep up with the Greeks in terms of Ouzo drinking, (Abbey and I learned well when it was still winter-ish) and since Abbey was driving, Lo and I had gulped down all those extra free drinks, our bladders were full and finding a bathroom was nearly impossible.  A little painful, a little drunk, at about 1 in them morning we climbed on that massive ferry, biggest boat I've ever been on, with its Casinos and bars and discoteques.  We piled our bags in a back corner and curled up on the floor and fell fast asleep.  The morning passed by in a lingering state of waiting.  Of movement you have to trust in.  We played cards and passed time as you do when there isn't much to do, sleepily and slowly.

Arriving to Ancona, Italy in the height of the afternoon heat, we wandered about for a train station, found one, and made our way train by train to the city of Florence, where we camped for the night, three of us in a tent for two.  In the morning we walked through the city, amazed by the architecture, the cobbled streets under our shoes and the heat beating upon us.  The people had a relaxed air about them, and the entire energy of the city seemed created for artists or those equipped with a wandering mind.

We left the city, Lo promising to come back and spend time, Dave and I focused on our destination.  Train after train until we reached Livorno.  After a mix up with wrong ports, strange directions and me communicating Spanish to Italian to English to the Greek words I couldn't help but say, we found our way to a "cargo ship with some space for guests, and not the other way around".  Cards in an empty warehouse as we waited for the boats and I got talking, in Spanish, to a teacher from the States traveling with 20 or so students on a 2 week field trip.  We all got talking and instantly a friendship was born, and as he later put it, in a crumpled note:

"Our lives are like spider webs.  They criss-cross, intersect, join in passing.  Through this organized chaos there is strength.  At every junction where two lives meet, the web is stronger.  You three have become a part of my life's web.  My life and story are stronger because of you." 

(He's his own story - worthy of telling but in another time/ space.)

Fast forward off the boat, some metro rides, beers with Clay, sandwiches, and a call to a brother of a friend that we had never met, that went something like:

Lo: "Hey, Dougie. Is this Dougie? Yeah this is Lauren.  Lauren.  Yeah, Lauren.  No, you don't know me.  I know your brother, and your dad.  Yeah, seriously. Yeah I know them pretty well.  Mhmm yeah well they talk about you, and I'm in Barcelona tonight with some friends, maybe we could meet up for a drink?  Yeah they talk about you.  Mm yeah I've seen pictures of you when you were a kid. Really, I have. That sounds creepy, sorry.  (pause)  I promise I'm not weird or anything.  (pause)  Yeah so this is a little awkward because I know everything about you and you've clearly never heard of me.  (pause).  So you want to meet us for a drink?"

And so our night in Barcelona commenced. Another story for another time/ space. To sum it up: an old sail boat, melons,whiskey, Marvin Gaye, cheese, ham, boat deck dance time, white wine, unexpected swims, trumpet playing and... Dougie, Dave, Lo.  Good, good time.

Woke up, left the marina, and we were San Fermin bound, for the running of the bulls.

... to be continued ...

Live on a Beach

I came to Greece without too many intentions.  To settle a while, see old friends, get to know a place on an intimate level.  It was such an easy and natural choice that I jumped into it without hesitation.  I went to China to visit friends, and cross off an item on the list.  The list was in the forefront of my mind when I bought that ticket.  I thought that from Greece it would be much easier to make it to Spain and France, and so that plan came to light, two more checks from the list.  As for actually being in Greece, I didn't think the list would be involved, didn't see a way it would.  It was my mom who first mentioned it, "what about living on a beach? You are already doing that.".  I thought it over, and, technically I don't live on a beach.  Not on it.  But we discussed it.  I wake up and I see the sea.  I jump over the back wall and in 4 minutes I'm swimming in the Ionian.  I don't know, maybe I am stretching it a bit, but my family gave me the go ahead, and so I went.  And it's done.  

I woke early, wanting to spend the afternoon at the sea, contemplating the location and being in the sun.  Together Lo, Abbey and I walked through Pogonia with our instruments, up the hills and out and around the sides of the mountains, down the little dirt road, across a grass field and onto our favorite beach.  We sat on the rocks and watched the ocean lunge toward us at regular intervals.  The sun was out and we swam regularly to cool down our heated skin.  I had the ashes in my backpack, knowing I would spread them here, but not sure when. Or how I would go about it.  So we killed time playing our guitars.  The church behind us sat solitary in its grass field, watching our backs as we lounged, laughed, loved every note we played, and the fact that we were together.  I appreciated them coming with me, appreciated them for knowing me, knowing my dad.  For not passing judgement about what I was doing, not thinking it was strange, or morbid, like I often feel some people might, but just loving without hesitation. 

Enveloped in that girly roommate love, we let the afternoon pass us by.

When evening was creeping silently behind us, I figured I needed to get on with it.  We played one last song, to the air, the sea, the beach, the church, to my dad and to each other.  A song that seemed all too appropriate: "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys" by Willie Nelson.  And with that we waded into the sea.  I held the small plastic container of ashes in my hand, and we told some stories of Papa Kaas.  Ones Abbey and I both knew, of concerts and dinners, him visiting California, first impressions and last impressions, and all the drinks and stories that regularly accompanied his visits.  We all took turns, emptying the container little by little into early evening's clear blue water, watching it soak in slowly, dissipating amongst the salt and the life that exists in the rhythmic ebb and flow of the Ionian.  He became a part of it.

And the interesting thing about this list is trying to decipher why these certain items made it on.  From what I remember about summer vacations with my parents to beach houses is my mom and I relaxing on the sand, content in swimming and sunbathing and reading all day.  What I remember from my dad is sheer boredom.  But I trust in his list, with the editing he did I don't think "live on a beach" would still be on there if he didn't want to someday actually do that.  Even if just for the romanticism of the whole idea, he wrote it, so I've done it.

Tonight I am leaving on a night ferry for Italy, then Spain, and lastly France.  Running of the bulls and Alpe d'Huez, two events that I can fully see papa Kaas partaking in without question.  I'll have some good stories coming soon.

So here it is, as it stands now, The List (or, the 7 remaining):

-Visit Denali State Park
- Visit the pyramids in Egypt
- Run with the bulls in Pamplona
- Visit Australia, and New Zealand
- Hike the Pacific Crest Trail 
- Visit the great wall
- Go to France and ride the Alp D’Heuz
- Race in Ironman Hawaii in Kona
- Live on a beach.

Couldn't have done it without these ladies. Photo by Devin Hume.

 


Also,
I've been slacking on the blissful moment posts, so heres a quick synapsis of some amazing times that have been had:
    Watching the moon rise with Devin and Abbey on a whimsical night hike
    Singing "I'll Fly Away" in a small church beach with my roommates
    Yesterday jumping off a boat deck in the early dawn hours
    And, surely, the feeling of movement that will come from stepping on a ferry boat tonight.