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Posts Tagged ‘busking’

The young man in the new blue suit finished arranging the glistening luggage in tight corners of the Pullman compartment. The train had leaped at curves and bounced along straightaways, rendering balance a praiseworthy achievement and a sporadic one; and the young man had pushed and hoisted and tucked and shifted the bags with concentrated care.

Nevertheless, eight minutes for the settling of two suitcases and a hat-box is a long time.

He sat down, leaning back against bristled green plush, in the seat opposite the girl in beige. She looked as new as a peeled egg. Her hat, her fur, her frock, her gloves were glossy and stiff with novelty. On the arc of the thin, slippery sole of one beige shoe was gummed a tiny oblong of white paper, printed with the price set and paid for that slipper and its fellow, and the name of the shop that had dispensed them.

She had been staring raptly out of the windows, drinking in the big weathered signboards that extolled the phenomena of codfish without bones and screens no rust could corrupt. As the young man sat down, she turned politely from the pane, met his eyes, started a smile and got it about half done, and rested her gaze, just above his right shoulder.

“Well!” the young man said.

“Well!” she said.

“Well, here we are,” he said.

“Here we are,” she said. “Aren’t we?”

“I should say we were,” he said. “Eeyop. Here are are”

“Well!” she said.

“Well!” he said.

– Dorothy Parker, “Here we are”

Tom Waits- Long Way Home

http://sites.google.com/site/bootsofspanishleathersite/Home/2-03LongWayHome.mp3?attredirects=0
Since my last post, my vertical leap has increased to where it is now significantly higher than the height of an average American male.

Since my last post, my vertical leap has increased to where it is now significantly higher than the height of an average American male.

So, here we are it seems. Aileen (aka Allen, Lee Lee, Onion, Leen Green, Amber, etc.) has been in Oia for almost two weeks and leaves in two days. Having her here is similar to playing the ukulele for the first time in months (something I have done in the last few days)- it’s seamless, fills a need you weren’t completely sure you had until its been filled, and compiles everything you love about everything else into one small package. Within a few days of Aileen arriving, our long-time friend and Aileen’s current roommate Liz Newton (aka Lizn, Lynx, Liza, Lips, Leonard, etc.) arrived in Santorini. Just yesterday, I overhead Liz say to Aileen, “It’s hard to remember what my life was like before we were here.” From the moment Aileen arrived, and then later with Liz, it has felt this way. Just matter of fact-ly they arrived and it seems like they have always been here. I currently can’t imagine the shop without them.

Aileen takes things very literally, and upon hearing Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind," she stood in this position for two days hoping for "the answer."

Aileen takes things very literally, and upon hearing Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind," she stood in this position for two days hoping for "the answer."

This is not to say that their time here has been ordinary. In fact, it has been anything but. We have gone from one tip of the island to the other- south to see the lighthouse and stand in awe of the geologists wet dream that is this island, and north to swim and stand in awe of the sunset that the tourists actually CLAP for everyday.

Despite Aileen reading my blog for the last three months, she was still surprised to find the sea here.  Also, if you don't find my captions informative enough, this is the south side of the island by the lighthouse.

Despite Aileen reading my blog for the last three months, she was still surprised to find the sea here. Also, if you don't find my captions informative enough, this is the south side of the island by the lighthouse.

Let’s take a second to break and reflect on the fact that HUGE groups of people clap for the sunset everyday. Now, I love beautiful things. Quite a bit. The sunset in Santorini is extraordinary. One of the highlights of everyday. I also believe strongly in being able to express yourself. But clapping at the sunset has never ceased to amaze me. Why? Some people get upset when others clap at the end of a movie. They say, “The actors aren’t here. They can’t hear you. Why are you clapping?” If you are one of those people, you should never, under any circumstances, watch the sunset within ear shot of the castle in Oia. You will implode. I, on the other hand, have given in and now clap whenever anything that is absolutely supposed to happen goes ahead, does its job, and happens. I started with the sunset (“Bravo”), moved onto to clapping every time my alarm goes off (“Great performance!”), and have ended with clapping when the water heater finally heats the shower water up (“Beautiful!”) . Its the little things, really.

In other news, Maxi got into the World Wrestling Federation (now known as WWE for some reason) with this exact move.

In other news, Maxi got into the World Wrestling Federation (now known as WWE for some reason) with this exact move.

Meanwhile, we ate pitas, we counted, priced, alphabetized, and put away 2500 newly received books (!), swam in the sea, and took senior pictures on a cliff overlooking the water. We took a car to Kolombos beach, which was as calm and serene as I have ever seen it. We had competitions to see who could find the best passage in five minutes, the rules changing only when Vlad decided we would play the same game except the passage had to be in Italian. Thanks to Ali‘s strange ability to get attractive, young, interesting, English-speaking women to hang out in the shop, we have met many new wonderful people. Accompanied by one such girl named Tash, we found our way to a beach I had never even heard of on the south side of the island which was quiet, beautiful, and calm. It was there that we found caves that, despite every Baywatch episode I have ever seen that climaxed with a tourist getting stuck in a cave with the tide rising, were begging to be explored. One particular cave, though small, was quite extraordinary and led to the other side of the rock formation, so we turned around and did it again. Aileen bravely leaped off the towering reaches of the Ammoudi church ledge- on numerous occasions.

This is the start of my photographic essay entitled, "Things that happen at the bookshop."

This is the start of my photographic essay entitled, "Things that happen at the bookshop." Picture one is called, "Reading."

"Organizing books"

"Organizing books"

"Hanging out"

"Hanging out"

"Laughing heartily"

"Laughing heartily"

"Being a wooden doll"

"Being a wooden doll"

Later, thanks to a successful busking performance by John, Tash, myself, and Zalina, our band manager, which resulted in 6.99 euros, and following a successful breaking into the local hostel by me and John in order to get Tash to come back out, we bought some whiskey and then sang songs that involved two chords and reading straight out of the books on the shelves. We listened to musicians play in front of the shop. We even had one of the now famous nights in the bookshop where we pretend it is the dead of winter because it is slightly chillier that usual, which this time involved drinking wine, eating glorious stew, listening to Joanna Newsom, and playing cards.

John is a secret ninja.  I am pretending to not have a head.  Both of these things will help us break into the local hostel.

John is a secret ninja. I am pretending to not have a head. Both of these things will help us break into the local hostel.

Speaking of Joanna Newsom,

It should be noted that jumping off of the Ammoudi church ledge is no small feat. Not in my book, anyway. You walk to the swimming area from the port and you see an island immediately in front of you. If you swim out from this point of entry you can look up and see all of Oia dusting the top of the cliffs like Parmesan cheese on top of spaghetti. Delicious. It is from here that you can first see the ledge. There is a church on this island. Having a church in such a place, an island or at the bottom of a gigantic gorge, is not uncommon in Greece, a religious characteristic that, unless I have misconstrued it, is very beautiful to me. Next to the entrance of the church, which faces directly towards the middle of the caldera at the volcano, is a bell and if you walk a bit further on sideways-turned rocks, which are perilous when barefoot, you find yourself at the large semi-circle that is the ledge famous for being the jumping point into the crystal blue water below.

The first time I made this jump, I was with Mike Hurley (mention number 8). I am not afraid to admit that I remember feeling an immense fear, one that starts with “Oh no, you must be kidding me,” and ends with, “Yeah, fucking right.” It is probably 20 to 25 feet to the water, but when you stand at the ledge it seems at least 3 times that. I also remember, when feeling this fear, that I had to jump just then, because if I didn’t, surely this would not bode well for the rest of my journey. Really, it was the fear that pushed me over the edge. I had to jump because I was scared. If you have ever felt such a thing before, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I knew I would be safe, and I had nothing to prove to anyone else, but I had to jump because, quite simply, I was afraid of doing just that.

So, I jumped. Just like I had to, and since then I have jumped over and over and over. At least twenty times. Each time, it got a little easier, and each time it felt as if I was able to go deeper than the time before, though always managing to miss the treacherous rocks that line the sea floor, and soon I’m confident I will go so deep that I will be able to actually walk on the bottom.

Liz is a senior in high school.  This is her senior picture.

Liz is a senior in high school. This is her senior picture.

I am a model.  A model who just found a pot of gold.

I am a model. A model who just found a pot of gold.

Aileen is also a model.  A model waiting to be struck by lightening.

Aileen is also a model. A model waiting to be struck by lightening.

This is where I’m at right now. I am at the top of this beautiful ledge next to a beautiful church looking up at the beautiful village that holds my beautiful bookshop. And I have to jump. I have long been pondering what to do after I leave the bookshop, thinking that I would be leaving in mid-November. I’ve let it stress me out and bring me down in ways that are in no way healthy and in no way abide to my goal of being present in a moment. Every idea I’ve had, I found a reason not to go through with it, and I, on some level, attribute this to fear. It could be noted that before I left for London, I was worn down and tired. But that is no longer an excuse because now I feel much better, aided by the presence of my sister, a trip to London, and constant reminders of the wonderfulness of this place.

And here I am. Here we are. Part of me feels new, like an egg or like I’m dressed in all new beige clothing, some of them still with the price tag on. Another part feels like I’m settling in, maybe taking a bit too long, but I’m settling in for something. Either way, here I am, and the tension is very real. It is time for me to jump.

So, here it is (or in more detail here). This is where I’m going for at least two weeks when I leave the shop in mid-November. I have received confirmation from the family who runs it and they are expecting me. Splash.

DSC00580

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