We arrived to Zakynthos, “Zante” in Italian, an island in the Ionian Sea, by boat. The island is said to be named after Zacynthos, son of legendary Arcadian chief Dardanos (there’s some wikipedia etymology for ya). On our second or third day on Zakynthos, we rented ATVs and headed out to a beach that was wrapped around on the southeastern tip of the island. Vasilikos was alleged to be one of the more beautiful beaches on the island. On our way out, our ATV caravan had to repeatedly pull over to allow all the cars to go by; some of the hills were a little tough for our petite engines. It made for a slow, more plodding journey that was even more enjoyable than any other mode of transportation I should think. The sun was high in the sky, the air a perfect temperature.
These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss, consume: the sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness.
I was consumed by the beauty of this place, and this place in particular. A random restaurant on the side of a random road on the island of Paros. It was the type of scene where you felt that if you took enough photos, perhaps you’d get just the one that enabled you to take part of it with you forever.
There is really not much I can say here that isn’t better said by the following photographs, which is how I believe it should be. The details one may want to know include that the bride and groom were married in the same Greek church in which the groom’s parents were many decades ago, in a small town outside of Kalamata, Greece. The church was the type you’d visit in your trip to Europe; the interior frescoes made you wonder when this thing was built, and the columns stood in such an austere way that you had to crane your neck to see the priest’s lips at the alter at the front of the nave that were projecting the Greek stream of words, sung as if a hymn, as if that would help you understand the verses. The experience was surreal. Continue reading
Our first morning in Greece, we awoke to a view of the bay, past the undulating hills of olive groves, which we could see beyond as we sat perched in our air bnb that would be our home for the abbreviated week. Initial attempts to walk to the beach soon turned to hitchhiking a ride from two superbly friendly women in their van atop piles of linens in their care.
During the first week of July, we boarded a plane destined for Greece. Outside of our friends’ wedding, and viewing some World Cup, there was little else on the itinerary. We knew we wanted to eat plenty of good food, soak up the delicious sun, fall asleep with salt from the sea on our skin, and melt into a culture and a country unknown to us. Continue reading
We received a hand drawn invitation in the mail. It will be a double wedding, we are told, with Arrow The Dog as ring-bearer. The scene is a glen within a forest, handmade decorations adorn the trees. Front and center are my friends: two couples, happily standing side by side. My friends, the sisters I went to college with and their husbands-to-be, never ones to shy away from the unconventional, will be getting married in the most unique wedding I’ve been to yet. Continue reading
It’s been much too long since I last posted. I could blame the 2014 Summer Wedding Tour for zapping my weekends, but in reality those have been fun times with great travel opportunities and the perfect excuse to make time for friends. I could blame training for consuming my weekday evenings, but that is one of my primary outlets. So, basically, I have no excuse. I have some lovely photos sitting in a queue awaiting their time in the spotlight. I also know of a few exciting photo opportunities coming up that will surely dazzle. In the meantime, please enjoy the lovely views of my hometown.
Looking at these photos, I’m instantly taken back to my adolescence. The cool fog bank off in the distance is like a comforting blanket. I can hear the seals under the wharf from where I’m taking the photo. I can feel the anxious desire to jump into the ocean and swim until I can’t feel my limbs anymore. I can see the silhouette of the cyprus trees along the cliffs, veiled in ocean mist as the waves explode not far below. I can sense the testosterone in the water as surfers jockey for position in the line up. I observe the bikers as they pedal by, so casually, on beach cruisers. It’s been a while since I spent a long time back in Santa Cruz, but it’s where I’m from, and I carry part of it with me wherever I go. These pictures remind me of that.