Today was a day of pure xalara. If you haven’t been following, xalara is a Greek word I learned during this trip. It means something to the effect of “let it be” or “just let it flow.” It is a bit like hakuna matata. No worries. This second day in Naxos, the theme was xalara. And it was great!
A Morning to Lose Yourself
I promised myself I would wake up super early today so I could go to town and take pictures before the heat became unbearable. My plan was to have breakfast in the hotel as soon as they opened the restaurant (7:30am). When 7:30 rolled around, I said “xalara” and slept late.
I showed up to breakfast a little after 9:30. I loaded up my plate up with eggs, sausage, toast with honey, and some veggies, you know, to maintain the figure. I lingered for a while as I finished the last sip of my café au lait, eyeing the desserts greedily.
After breakfast, I hung my DSLR camera around my neck and walked into town. It wasn’t too hot… yet. The morning was hanging on to a bit of pleasant weather. Pleasant enough to walk the labyrinth of streets of Naxos Town. I had no map. No plan. I simply wondered about, following the cobblestone paths. If there was a fork in the road, I chose a direction at random. All the while photographing the bright pink bougainvillea that hung on the walls and the light blue balconies that contrasted dreamily against the pure white buildings.
I wondered for about two hours, winding left and right, climbing up and down, entering stores, eyeing jewelry, touching the soft dresses, and smelling the powerful scents in the spice shops. Xalara for the senses.
The sun climbed up high, and so did the heat. The powerful sun shone on my face so I decided to buy a new hat. I didn’t even bother with placing it in a fancy bag. I cut off the tags and marched out of the store with it securely on my head. I chose a different route to return to the hotel. I was tracing the seaside. At a certain section of the seaside, restaurants begin to line the boardwalk. I decided to take a petit pause, and enjoy a refreshment at one of these restaurants. The server, a beautiful Greek girl, offered me a couch facing the sea. I sat and enjoyed a Three Cent Grapefruit soda. I sat for a long time enjoying my fizzy drink and cooling down with the salty sea breeze that gently caressed my face. The waves crashed against the foundation of the seawall and my mind relaxed. Xalara for the mind.
Poolside With a Book
Back in the hotel, I wasted no time. I changed into my swim suit, grabbed my beach bag, and walked straight to the pool, new hat flopping stylishly on my head. I found an empty pool bed with a nice amount of shade and plopped myself and my things on the long chair. After ordering the obligatory freddo cappuccino, I pulled a book from my bag, laid back, and began to read. I’m reading The Daughter of Doctor Moreau by Silvia Moreno Garcia. It’s a science fiction novel that takes place in 1870s Yucatan, Mexico. It’s a reimagining of the story of The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells. I like this author. I’ve read Mexican Gothic and I like how Silvia Moreno Garcia blends Mexican folklore into her stories. If you haven’t read her, I highly recommend her work.
I spent the afternoon reading and swimming. The pattern was as follows: read a chapter, jump in the pool, read another chapter, then jump in the pool. It was a relaxing way of spending a hot, sunny Greek afternoon. Xalara for the body.
Watching the Sunset
I donned on a flowy, aquamarine dress I bought a few years ago in Lyon, France. I love this dress. I adore how I look and feel in it. It hugs my bust and then falls into a loose skirt a bit Greek-goddess style. As I walked to the port, I could feel stares of approval and admiration. “Bella ragazza,” I heard an Italian man tell his friend as I passed. Beautiful girl. I feel so confident in this dress! I did more wondering in Naxos town. I even bought some jewelry. And like the hat, I wore it right out of the store.
The sun was waning. So I walked to the Temple of Apollo to watch the sunset again. I made it all the way to the top of the hill this time. The wind had picked up and it played with my skirt and hair. It felt wild, but good. Down below, the sea was restless, crashing furiously against the cliffside.
One of the downsides of traveling solo, is that there is no partner that can take your picture. You have to rely on either masterful selfie skills or the kindness of strangers. My selfie skills ain’t that great (thanks to my T-Rex arms) so kindness of strangers it is! I asked an Australian woman to take my picture. I explained that I was travelling alone, and she was happy to do it. She also asked me what it was like traveling solo. She said she had always wanted to try it but had not been able to muster up the courage. I gave her my impressions, my tips and tricks, some of the downsides, but that overall, it is a very liberating experience which I find to be full of self-reflection.
A crowd began to gather at the Temple of Apollo as the sun prepared to set. I stood on the hill as the wild wind buffeted me mercilessly blowing my aquamarine skirts and long hair around me like a tornado. But I couldn’t feel more alive. I even stretched out my arms like a bird at some point. I felt free, weightless.
Night at the Port
After the sunset, I descended the hill with the rest of the crowd and found a spot for dinner. The restaurant was called Carisso, and it specialized in seafood. I ordered an octopus salad and some stuffed sardines which I paired with a house rose wine. I sat enjoying my meal as texts from my sisters began pouring in. The day was unfolding in America. I shared pics of my meal and described the flavor of each dish. Maybe one day we could do a sister’s trip in Naxos.
As I finished my dinner I sat back on my chair sipping my wine slowly. I thought about what the Australian woman had said. That she had never mustered up the courage to travel by herself. People always ask if I feel self-conscious when I travel solo. The answer can be a little complicated. I don’t worry if other people look at me weird for being at a restaurant alone, for instance. But I do become self-aware. Aware of what I feel. Aware of what I think. Aware of what scares me or challenges me. It’s a bit like self-inspection.
I also become very aware of my surroundings. I don’t mean this in the context of always scanning my environment for danger, but rather, I become observant to the people around me in the context of curiosity. As I sipped my wine, I observed the tables around me. There was a young couple next to me. The woman spoke Greek, the man English but with a German accent (or thereabouts). They held hands throughout the meal. Behind them, there was an older couple. I’m not sure from where since I could not listen to their conversation. They also held hands as they ordered. Would the young couple hold hands when they become older, like the older couple behind them?
I noticed what each table ordered, what each table drank. How close couples were to each other. If they spoke continuously or if there were long moments of silence. At the tables with families, where the kids on their phones? To me these small actions are clues. Clues to their dynamic, their relationship. And I find it fascinating.
After dinner, I purchased a tiramisu ice cream and ate it on the seaside promenade, watching the sailboats and the fish gathering around them. It was Saturday night and the port was alive. Music, dancing, children on skates… oh how beautiful is the world. Xalara for the soul.
It’s midnight and I’m sitting outside at the hotel bar overlooking the pool, writing this blog, drinking a glass of Greek rose wine (Oreinos Helios), which the hotel sells by the half bottle. I’m ready to post. I just need to re-read my work before I publish. Then the waiter comes with another half bottle of Greek rose. “Compliments of the house,” he says with a smile as he presents me with the bottle. I hesitate. I was on my way to the room. I have an early day tomorrow. “You are on vacation,” he says. I smile and say, “Xalara.” He beams at me and nods. “You know xalara?” I nod. “Yes,” he says as he opens the small bottle. “Xalara.”
