Someone once said that a picture is worth a thousand words; so, if I do not have a picture does that mean that I must write a thousand words in order to take its place? I sure hope not; for your sake.
So, there are some instances where a picture is not possible; the action occurs to quickly, you are taking a picture of a stranger, or, heaven forbid, you are caught without your camera. All three of the fore mentioned scenarios occurred on a recent trip to Pothia, the port town of Kalymnos. However, I have decided that instead of allowing the vision to slip from my memory I will try to recreate it as clearly as possible with words. What I ask, I know that Keith at least will help, is that in your comments you might add questions that would make my descriptions more “real” and vivid.
Vision 1: old lady in a dune buggy.
The title may seem pretty self explanatory, but there are finer points that you are no doubt missing that add to the beauty of the scene. First, you must remember that Kalymnos is a very small island with not much to offer; little non-climbing tourism, no industry, no special beauty (however, I find it most beautiful), thus Pothia is a very small port. There is one street that runs the length of the working port which is set into a small bay. The whole town sits in a small basin surrounded on all sides by steep hills and limestone cliffs. This street is where all of the activity of the day occurs, banks, tavernas, meager tourist shops, fishing boats, massive ferries that dwarf the port itself, all of these events occur in a relatively small area. The street is narrow and is laden with cumbersome vehicles and thousands of kapakis, small moped style motorcycles. Along the town side of the street old men sit endlessly with little else to do than comment on the world that was and small children do their best to entertain themselves with small firecrackers, bicycles, and games of chase.
I found myself in this world as I waited for the ATM to deposit a bare sum of money into my hand. As I stared onto this small but bustling port I saw an old lady in a dune buggy. Now there is more to be explained or the subtle magnificence of the picture might escape you. First I will discuss the easier portion of the picture, the dune buggy. You are all familiar, I am sure, with the vision of a dune buggy, but I would say that this one seemed especially interesting to me, maybe only because I have not seen one for a while and second because it is not a very common mode of transportation to see in a setting such as I have already described above, but it was also a very hefty looking vehicle not one of the toy ones that you can buy at Walmart (thank god we do not have Walmart here). Instead, it looked to be a real honest to god dune buggy; heavy, thick black steel role cage, noisy, fumes of exhaust rolling from the tale pipe, and big insect eye style knobby tires. To me though, the driver was more interesting. Older Greek women tend to have a stockier build than others. They tend to be short, compact, with glistening white hair. Most, especially if they are widows, wear all black, blouse, skirt, and shoes. This small elderly Greek woman sat the the driver seat of this large black dune buggy oblivious to the interesting juxtaposition that she created. Topping off the whole view was the pile of groceries where normally there sits a canister filled with extra gas when you might find yourself bounding around lost in the wilderness.
These scenes take so long to pass and yet once they are over it seems as though they have only taken the instant in which they actually occurred. It is interesting to think that I have much more invested in this snapshot than I would have had I simply taken a digital photo and yet I still miss that photo; I still wish I had had the opportunity to capture that moment in color, depth, and texture.
2 comments:
pIan- I can almost see it! The coolest part of your description is knowing first hand the transport options from our trip. The one that sticks in my mind is the lovely young woman in the long, black, slinky evening gown and spike heals climbing on the motorcycle behind the dashing young man in a tux...
I read an article in a national geographic several years ago, the content of which is long lost, but the one line that sticks with me is the author's premise that on each trip, one should deliberately neglect to capture on film one event such as you have described for the express purpose of both forcing oneself to illuminate the event or subject in words and archiving it in your mind's eye, alone. Like the judge sketching items into his journal and subsequently striking it from man's history, you have captured this scene for your own archive and shared it's shadow with the rest of us. Enjoy it. Was she dressed in black? What did her expression reveal?
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