What I Brought Home From Chios, Greece
I came home from Chios with a little clay tile from the village of Pyrgi, a journal full of memories, hundreds of photographs, and so many colors that I can't stop thinking about.
I also came home without the paintings I thought I was going to make.
And honestly, I'm okay with that.
I think I needed to experience Chios first.
So let me take you there...
View of Chios from the air
One of the first things I remember is looking out the window of our little plane as we flew toward the island.
I remember how excited I felt to be arriving on this beautiful island. Chios was really beautiful from the air.
When we arrived, we had A LOT of steps to climb to get to our apartment. But once we got there, I knew we were going to love it.
The cats of Chios
There were kittens waiting to greet us, lemon and pomegranate trees in the yard, stonework climbing up the hills, and a big stone wall in the garden with little places to sit built right into it.
And then there was the dreamy view of the sea.
On the mornings when everyone else was still sleeping, I'd get up with my coffee, take my sketch journal outside, and sit under the umbrella looking out at the water.
I loved those mornings.
Painting outside our apartment in Chios. Loving on the view of the sea
Everywhere I looked, there was another pattern, doorway, shape, or shadow.
I loved the black and white designs against the blue sky, the weathered doors, little bits of color, flowers, and the casual way laundry hung outside a window.
It was one of those places where I could have walked around for hours just looking.
And, of course, I was already thinking about painting and what shapes and textures might inspire my work.
A day on the water
One of my favorite days was spent on a sailboat with Brett and our friends Krissy and John.
We anchored in a cove and spent hours swimming and floating in that ridiculously clear water. At some point, Krissy & I realized we had finished all the wine on the boat so the captain swam to another boat to get us more! Bougie, I know 😘.
That may be one of my favorite vacation stories!
Our pretty boat
We also enjoyed the most lovely lunch on the boat: cheese, rice, grilled zucchini and eggplant, fresh bread, chicken, and Greek salad.
We ate, swam, drank wine, and went back in the crystal-clear water.
Eventually we headed back to the port and ended up at a bar overlooking the bay.
It was one of those days when you really didn't want to look at the clock.
Learning to linger
I started noticing that Chios seemed to have a very different relationship with time than I do. Lingering at the beach was a delight.
I loved just sitting under an umbrella by the sea and watching people relax and have fun.
In Chios, dinner at 11 p.m. didn't seem strange.
Neither did sitting under a thatched umbrella for hours, having a cocktail by the sea, or letting a meal stretch long after the food was gone.
Trying out some local wine.
There were always snacks with the drinks.
And there was always another reason to stay a little longer.
I liked that.
I'm very good at filling a day.
Chios made me want to leave a little more space in my days.
Maybe that's why some of my favorite moments weren't the big sightseeing moments at all.
They were the moments in between.
Sitting with my coffee.
Watching the boys play in the water.
Having a drink by the sea.
Taking one more picture of a wall because I liked the pattern.
Noticing the color of the water.
Just being there.
View from Komi Beach
And then there was kefi
I'd heard the word kefi before, but I don't think I really understood it until I experienced a little of it in Greece.
There isn't one perfect English translation. It's often described as joy, enthusiasm, or a zest for life.
But I think it's easier to understand by experiencing it than by defining it.
It's staying for another song.
It's lingering over dinner.
It's dancing when you don't really know what you're doing.
It's laughing with friends, sharing food, swimming in the sea, listening to music, and not being in a hurry to get anywhere else.
One night we went to a Bouzoukia where the music didn't start until close to midnight.
There were several opening acts, tables full of people, drinks, and lots of lively music.
By the time the main singer came on, it was VERY late by American standards.
Nobody seemed to care.
People were singing and dancing. Carnations were being thrown in the air and toward the performers.
We eventually left around 4:30 in the morning, although the concert went on until well past 6am.
A few nights later, we went to a panigiri at our friends’ family’s home.
There was music, food, dancing (I tried Greek dancing and let’s just say I have some things to learn~lol), and a whole lot of people enjoying being together.
I loved it!
Maybe that's part of what kefi means to me.
Not something I need to define perfectly, but a feeling of being fully in the moment and enjoying the people you're with.
I think I could use a little more of that at home.
What I brought home
Moon over Turkey in the distance.
I came home thinking about color and how much it inspires me.
The turquoise water.
The greens of the gardens.
The patterns in Pyrgi.
The blue and white boats.
The red moon over Turkey in the distance.
I'm still carrying all of those colors around with me.
Although I did some painting in my sketch journal while I was there, I didn't come home with the finished paintings I'd imagined making.
The more I think about it, the more okay I am with that.
Sometimes I need to experience something before I know what I want to do with it creatively.
As an intuitive artist, I don't always know what I'm going to paint.
I pay attention first.
Maybe the turquoise water will show up in a painting someday. Maybe the patterns from Pyrgi will find their way into something. Maybe something completely unexpected will come from the trip.
Or maybe Chios will simply remain a really wonderful trip that I remember for the rest of my life.
I'm okay with that, too.
The windmills of Chios, Greece
So what did I really bring home?
A little clay tile.
A journal.
Hundreds of photographs.
Memories of ridiculously clear water, long dinners, music and dancing, and a captain swimming to another boat for more wine.
Kefi.
And a reminder to keep paying attention.
Sometimes you don't need to turn an experience into anything.
You just get to have it and carry it with you.
What did you bring home?
What did you bring home from your last trip that wasn't something you could put in a suitcase?
Maybe it was a color, a memory, a meal, a song, or simply a new way of seeing something.
I'd love to hear about it in the comments.
