Switching it up on ya here. I’ve been posting a lot from Greece recently. While there are still a number of photos I want to share from that region, I figure it may be more exciting to break with chronology and share random photos from the past few years that I’ve really enjoyed. I’ve also been reviewing other photography blogs, and have really liked thematic posts, such as Steve McCurry’s “Language of Hands” post. Maybe one day I’ll be able to string together images like that…
Also, for those of you who follow along with email updates on my blog, I just sold my soul and created a facebook page for A Heightened Sense of Things. I’m trying it out to see if it motivates me a bit more to post, knowing that some more folks are looking at what I’m sharing. You can find me at: https://www.facebook.com/heightenedsense. I may be doing a photo giveaway or something to celebrate the blog’s first birthday in a couple months. Like my page to stay posted!
And as always, thanks for the support!
Live in the sunshine
Swim in the sea
Drink the wild air.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
On this particular day in Paros, we rented bikes from a shop along the waterfront in Parikia, and adventurously set off, sans map, to explore the island. We knew we had to get up and over a small set of hills in the center of the island that served as a geographic divider between the towns of Parikia and Naoussa.
We stopped near the top of the first killer set of hills to take in the view.
Pedaling on, we finally crested and cruised, exhausted by our rickety rental bikes, onto the windswept roads along the beaches on the other side of the island. Our efforts were rewarded by beautiful beaches tucked away into coves of wrinkled rock.
I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream
I know you, that look in your eye is so familiar a gleam
And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom all they seem
But if I know you, I know what you’ll do
You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.
Putting together this post, and reliving the tucked away alleys of Santorini, I recall this song. I performed this song once at a piano recital. Googling it reveals this version by Lana Del Rey, that I’m now in love with. Her eerily slow voice makes these winding walls seem all the more intriguing, if not slightly claustrophobic.
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