I'm walking through a market in Athens. Someone stops me and asks my name. He's a pilot for the Greek army. He tells me about his job and asks me what I'm doing here. I'm leaving soon. I was just flying through. We exchange social media and he says goodbye. I think, what was the point of that? Why did we talk? He told me that the Turkish army is trying to take over a couple of Greek islands. I didn’t know that before. He taught me something new. But did it teach me something about myself?
Turkish blood doesn’t run through my veins. What could their conflict mean to me? I shake my head and keep walking. What if I’m a reflection of the world? And the world is a reflection of me. The pilot taught me something about the outside. Where does it come up inside? It’s too deep, too complicated to figure out now. I keep walking.
Sometimes, I spend hours wandering cities and I don't meet a soul. As I walk, I wonder; the only person I need to speak to is myself. I don't know what to say though. Should I ask myself why I don't work harder? Should I ask myself why I haven't done more? Maybe I'm moving too much, but I can't calm down. I don't know why it's so difficult to be at peace. I need validation. It’s why I tend to wander the streets, wondering who I could talk to. I want to hear someone’s thoughts mirror mine.
I keep walking and watching and wandering and listening. Maybe I’ll overhear a conversation. I hope to catch an act of kindness no one was destined to see. When I walk, I collect interactions and tie them into stories. I could write hundreds of portraits of moments with people. I could write hundreds of portraits about hundreds of people. Can I write one portrait of me?
I stop for some lunch. A quiet little tourist restaurant. They have sardines on special. I have about 7. Drizzled in lemon and oil, the meal grounds me. The waiter asks how I liked the food. It’s okay, but I don’t tell him that. I tell him it’s great. I wonder if he’s bored. I’m the only guest at the restaurant. I get up and keep walking.
Another man tries to catch my attention. Hold on, he says. He’s trying to get me to sit down. Maybe he’s paid commission for every restaurant guest. I rush past, lost in my world. He points at a pot on the ground. Look at this. Look at this. He bends over the plant and I come back to smell it. I ask, is it mint? No, it's basil. He pulls off a leaf and says because your eyes, they are so beautiful. Green, like the basil. I wonder if he’s Italian. His accent doesn’t sound Greek. I keep walking with the leaf between my fingers. It smells lemony. I’ve never smelled basil like this before. I rub it and wonder. What am I going to do with it? Should I eat it?
I turn the corner. It’s busier here. Tourists bustle. We’re near the Acropolis. There are a couple of stands in the square. Someone is writing names in metal wire, crafting necklaces. A woman holds up a polaroid the size of a 90’s mac. She's young, probably 17. I catch her eyes. I don’t need a photo. I keep walking. It’s too late, she snaps a picture. Instantly, a paper prints out. I don't have any euros. I tell her. Take the picture, she insists. I open my purse and find some shekels. I hope it’s okay as I hand it to her. I’m gently touched. She wasn’t taking pictures of everyone and she took one of me. I look at the photo. My face is printed on a fake brown newspaper. It states Important Guests Were Seen in Athens. Does this photo count as meeting myself?
I’ve done 20,000 steps by now. My plane is leaving soon. I need to find a gift for a friend before I go. I head back to the market where I started the day. Maybe I’ll get him some spices. I’m rushing down a narrow, cobblestone street and a chef stops me. He puts his hand up, gently, asking what's your name? You’ve got beautiful eyes. They all say the same thing, but I'm not tired of it. He's from Nigeria. I ask him what my friend might like. Do you know of any strange or funky foods in Athens? He doesn’t, but he asks for my number anyway.
I’m running now. Someone says hello again. I passed him in the morning. He wanted me to eat at the rooftop bar. I wanted to stay outside. Come see the view. He insists again. You don’t have that in America. I hesitate. I like Athens but not enough to miss my plane today. I'll take a picture of you, and then you come back downstairs. I get in the elevator with him. He snaps a shot of me with the Acropolis in the background.
I say goodbye and look at the time. I missed my train to the airport. The next one is coming in 30 minutes. I keep walking. Everyone I met validated me. They reminded me that I exist. They sparked my inner dialogue, reminding me to ask myself what I love about life and what I don’t agree with. Everyone I met was a mirror to me. They helped me understand myself. One day, I’ll gather all my portraits of people and publish it as an autobiography. A small part in everyone forms me.
Thanks so much,
, for your thoughtful questions and comments that helped me edit this essay into what it is now.
Cute essay. You always have aadventures.