I sit at the Port of Punda in Paros, Greece. I hear birds singing as if being grateful to be alive isn’t enough, expression is needed to follow. I see a few boats to my left and to my right and what follows is thoughts of having a boat. What would I use it for? Would I take it up fishing or maybe just take it out on joyrides during sunrise or sunset? I love my imagination, I think it is my superpower. It allows me to key myself into lives I will never know, it keeps me in touch with those around me. I sit here as we wait to take a boat around the islands of Naxos, Paros, and Antiparos, all clustered very close together. We are setting sail on the sea ready for a grand adventure.  

Being on this boat has felt like a dream. I keep looking around and thinking there is a greenscreen around me. My brain simply cannot catch up to where my feet are, no matter how hard I try. I wonder why we as humans have such an inability to acknowledge wonderful moments in our lives. To really truly see them for what they are. To be able to smell the moment, touch the moment, feel the moment and most importantly believe it is one thing I think we most struggle to endure in humanhood. We get good at suffering and know that narrative well, but how many of us can be honest in moments of glory and triumph, isn’t that equally a part of the deal?

I find myself often on this trip rationalizing why on earth I deserve to be here, experiencing what I am. I think, “Haven’t I been privileged enough? Haven’t I already won the lottery in life?”. But I also think that I am allowed to embrace what has been given to me. I think I’ve done a proactive job at appreciating every day in front of me, the gift of each day, and the experience before me. Paros, of all places, was the island that lit a particular fire in all of us collectively. Santorini and Mykonos felt like they were trying to be someone that they weren’t, but sweet, sweet Paros felt entirely itself, in its own right. 

Being there in the off-season was a blessing. I do not think I would have loved Greece and have the appreciation that I do if we were there when it was peak season. I would have looked around and hated what tourism has created more than I already did and probably would have gone a bit crazy trying to grasp any bit of reality around me. Scratching to find some piece of real culture in front of me. When I get to places where the crowds are massive to see something, I truly think what is the use? Do I really need to be in this space, doing this thing? I have felt that way on many points during this trip.

The food in Paros was phenomenal, we had the best calamari of our lives. They know how to fry and batter things on that island. We had many different dishes that were so lightly fried and melted in your mouth. We saw fresh octopus laying in the sun for hours, as is what is recommended for the best gastronomical outcome. We saw people out on the full moon fishing for squids (as it was apparently the best time to do so), which couldn’t help but feel romantic. A connection to nature that I so often see missing in modern life. We saw boats and boats and boats next to restaurants lined up adding to the ambiance of the town of Naoussa where we stayed. 

Personality sprung from every corner and crevice. Paros allowed for a wonderful six days of calm absorption and digestion of what we had experienced over the first month of travel. Most of this trip had just happened before my eyes, but Paros was the first place I really felt that these collective month-long affairs were really sinking their teeth into my identity. I felt myself physically expanding in real time as what I had witnessed thus far in three countries, inevitably morphed who I had been, into who I was now. From how I look at cuisine the art of food has changed. The celebration of regional alcohols and liquors has changed. I see them as part of life and an art of making in and of themselves. My romantic lens on life has changed. My thrill for spontaneity has changed. My understanding of love and loss has spun. Who I am, for better or for worse has transitioned, but it has kindly so. I find myself with a bit more of a metaphorical pep in my step as I look around and find that magic lies everywhere in such different ways. It relies on its people, in its regions, to relay the messages of the area. I find this to be the most amazing part of travel and of life. Something that in my own existence, I take grave responsibility for. Something that is lost when tourism involves itself. 

We had a wonderful conversation with our taxi driver in Athens who had been to almost all the islands and was discussing his time there. He said everyone knows the road that Mykonos and Santorini have gone down, is a road they will regret. He said, “They do not see you as a person now, just a $ sign, a vessel for money”. It was very validating to hear, but saddens me to know everyone around knows the road, yet it is happening anyway. How on earth do we watch our lives or society go down roads or experiences that we know, at their best are not fulfilling yet at their worst are damaging sometimes beyond repair. But do we find ourselves entertaining them anyway? It’s some type of collective reckoning that almost feels like a perfect example of the power we all have in thoughts and actions, yet also the paralysis we can equally convey. I do not have too much of a solution that can be spoken in a few sentences but I do know that spoken word of these experiences is of much importance, you never know to whose ears your words can find solace and change the trajectory of thinking and life. It’s what can be most proven to be effective in the rising and falling of people. 

I know I am somewhat responsible for the direction places like Santorini and Mykonos have gone, I have felt that on many occasions through this trip thus far. In the long lines at the Palace of Versailles and the Louvre in Paris. At the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City where Michaelangelo created his first and last painted masterpieces that took my breath away. In the narrow, crowded streets of Venice and the bombarding areas of the Amalfi Coast.

 I wonder what levels of true traveler appreciation are taking hold among the destruction of culture that tourism is equally creating. I cannot help but have my mind here as I wander places that I can feel have been tainted by the people who visit and who have inevitably changed the culture of these spaces. Where does the line of responsibility and duty lie on the travelers to keep places authentic and cultures intact and where does it lie on these landmarks to not succumb to money as the future of where these spaces lie? Do people stop traveling and learning in this way? I do not know the answer, but I cannot help but discuss the damage of tourism I can see around me on this trip because I equally have experienced it in my hometown. I don’t know the answers, but I do think something needs to change.