I couldn’t quite get enough of Dunbeath Castle.
Heraklion is a small island located a bit more than 200 miles from Athens, with an ambience so tranquil it has the power to make one finally feel like the air inside their lungs is exactly the same as the air outside their body. We had spent the fourth day of the trip wandering around in sweltering heat until it was cool enough to eat. So, well-fed and giddy we decided to take an explorative drive, stumbling upon a quaint fishing village. While the sun began to slumber and the sky became a palette of serene pastels, the Hunters full moon created a potent cocktail thought by the natives to bring energy and the courage to squash the psychological chains that hold us back, into our atmosphere. With the car window down and my head on my arm, I lazily watched the world go by like a cat at a window, lulled by the heady contrast in sensations. I was charged yet relaxed, free yet settled, content, but still curious. I took my phone out and quickly snapped the scene as the car drove at a leisurely pace, beautifully capturing the complex simplicity of that perfect evening. Looking at the picture the eyes move from unfocused branches to the needlepoint clarity of the moon, and finally to the stillness of the boat and sky.
As the sun started to set on the sand dunes of the Death Valley desert, I was still drenched in sweat scaling the sides of the hills to get to the middle of the desert where I wanted to get the perfect photo.
It was only about 4pm, and yet it felt like it had already been a very long day.
I knew the trip was going to be a risk, and I thought bringing the kids along might get me forever labeled as a bad parent. But sometimes the yearnings of the spirit deny any pitiful human logic from mounting a resistance.
I was recently (12/2019-1/2020) in Japan to see all of my friends again some of which I haven’t seen since 2014 and to really boost my confidence and travel experience because I intend on working and living in this lovely country. This trip had to of been one of the most stressful I’ve ever been on. Since before I could even board the first plane things were going wrong and I was so stressed upon arriving into Narita Airport that I felt like turning around and giving up. However, luckily I’m not that kind of person and I’m glad I pushed through it, otherwise I wouldn’t have seen this lovely view which was just one of many. Once I arrived I made my way to my friends house which took a further 4 hours and stayed with her in Tokyo for 3 days before using the bullet train to go to Kyoto for 7 days.
There were signs all around me. They had been there silently, muted by the modern world which had grown and evolved around them. Simple crosses embellished on stone tiles, built into the quaint exteriors of the cottages which had stood for centuries. An old manor house which garnered no attention as you drove on by. A medieval church – one which I had seen its tower rise high behind the rows of modern houses for 28 years – yet never fully taken notice of. And finally, a majestic Tudor mansion whose presence had dominated the landscape for hundreds of years. This village of Whitkirk, which I had always called home, that I had always arrogantly deemed mundane, was anything but.
Why have we underestimated the value of just making memories and being in the moment? Why do we feel the need to capture everything on a vacation with endless photos and videos?