In the late 80s, when I was 16-18 years old and finished with primary school, many of my friends went on “InterRail” (a pass you could buy cheaply to travel around Europe by train).
They set off with backpacks in small groups of friends and returned sun-kissed, infatuated with the world and the people and cultures they had encountered. They talked about exciting places like Paris, Barcelona, Madrid, Rome, and Istanbul. The European city names burned into my mind from their many summer adventures.
It was summer adventures about challenges, camaraderie, infatuations, and their encounters with themselves, each other, and life. And it was stories about sailing on ferries between Greek islands, beach bonfires, and octopuses hanging to dry in the harbors – and the colorful boats and prickly sea urchins. Hedonism in Greece.
I absorbed their travel adventures and dreamed myself into their journeys, like a hidden passenger experiencing a bit of what they had experienced.
It’s not that I didn’t go away as well. I also went on vacation. I went to Calella, the disco paradise just north of Barcelona. Not just once. No, I went three times. Same city, same hotel, and each time with the same purpose. To go out and party.
That’s how I enjoyed traveling the most. I suffered from debilitating social anxiety, and Calella gave me the opportunity to let loose, feel free, and experience a bit of the youth life that I longed for back then.
The world opens up
It wasn’t until I turned 20 that I also got to see the big world. In 1992, my parents chose to move to Singapore for three years, and their expat life opened the doors to my closed eyes and showed me, through my visits to them, how amazing the planet we live on is. I was captivated by how differently we live and how differently we choose to live our lives.
Singapore became the stepping stone to many long journeys in Asia and Australia, and with that privilege in my pocket, not only did my eyes open, but also an endless source of curiosity to experience the world. That source still flows within me and has taken me to many exciting countries.
Even though I was a bit of a late bloomer, I also ventured out into the world. I discovered that the world provided a “sanctuary” for my anxiety, which took a break when I was away, and I was simply present, experiencing the world as it was in the here and now.
With the extensive travels around the world, my thoughts sometimes wandered back to the dreams of my youth, of traveling around Greece and hopping from island to island, sailing on Greek ferries, and experiencing the hedonistic life.
But can a 16-year-old’s dream be fulfilled at the age of 37?
Late bloomers can also
In the summer of 2008, Peter and I took a flight to Greece. We wanted to experience Greece and the hedonistic life. We had just given up the dream of having children through IVF and adoption, and my father was very ill with lung cancer. We needed to get away for a while.
We flew with a low-cost airline and landed at Athens airport. From there, we continued directly by plane to Lesbos and started a 3-week-long hedonistic vacation, hopping from island to island and letting go of all worries, immersing ourselves in the Greek experience.
From Lesbos, we flew to Santorini. From Santorini, we took the ferry to Naxos, and from there, we took the ferry back to Piraeus – the gateway to Athens.
The journey to Greece fulfilled everything I had dreamed of. We let go of it all and allowed ourselves to be swept away by love, the cool Greek waters, and the Greek islands that lay scattered beneath our wings – free from dreams – genuine and present.
We slept in, we swam until we were exhausted, we explored the Greek villages, ate olives, and drank cold red wine in the middle of the day. We feasted on fish and octopus, and went out in the evenings, taking a midnight swim on the way back home…
The ferries sailed us over the bluest waters. The islands in the sunset rose up as black silhouettes, layers upon layers vanishing into the night. With voices and ropes thrown to the docks at new harbors, we woke up in the middle of the night and felt the rush of Greek pulse and life.
Perhaps I didn’t get to go on Interrail. Perhaps I thought island-hopping in the Greek archipelago was reserved for the young and beautiful. But I tell you, just because you’re a late bloomer doesn’t mean we shouldn’t experience love, the greec water, and the Greek archipelago.
One life – go live it!
As a conclusion to it all, I can tell you that unfortunately, I lost my father three months later. But just two months after we returned home, we found ourselves holding a positive pregnancy test. Our last IVF attempt had succeeded after all, and nine months later, our son, Sebastian, came into the world.
I’m not saying that life should be lived in a specific way, but remember this, no matter where you stand: One life – go live it!
