The Final Act

My final hours on Paros have finally arrived. It's strange, really. A concept that seemed so distant and foreign to me, is now here. I'm done with HISA. I'm done with Greece. I'm done with these people. It's a very weird feeling.

As I finish up the final packing. The emptying of my apartment. Planning for the next and final act in this trip. A narration of thoughts and memories play out in my head--

"Saying goodbye to these people has been harder than I imagined. Siggy. The Fabulous woman and friend who taught me so much about myself and the world and what it means to be a full person.

"Don't let it end here." -Siggy

George "The Crane" Crane, my writing teacher who mentored me in a way that I've never experienced before. He brought out the writer in me. Encouraged me and guided me. He made me better.

"Baby, you do it. And you do it well. Keep on doing it." -The Crane

Lynnie, a woman who has become so close to me. She's taught me how to be a confident and strong woman. One who's sure of herself and goes after her dreams. I'll miss our late-night talks, debriefing the days' lessons and activities. Blurting terrible 90's lyrics at the top of our lungs. Gorging on chocolate every chance we got.

"You feel that for a reason. Follow your instinct." -Lynnie

Catherine. The first person I met in Greece. The crazy sorority girl who rode the metro with me to our hostel in Athens. A girl who I've grown to love and care for deeply. Who, though we're polar opposites, has been by my side this entire experience.

"You affect people with the way you act. It's not something you have to say." -Cat

These are only four of the many, many goodbyes that I've encountered this week. It's been like one, long dream. Days blurring together. Sunsets becoming the same. Last night I didn't even sleep. No. Lynne and I stayed up to watch the sunrise. We didn't talk about the end. Random things were discussed, avoiding what we knew was coming. I think we might have actually discussed American politics. Great morning conversation, right?

I don't think I'll really know what Paros has done for me until I'm home. That first day when I'm home alone. Walking around my home in California. The Mediterranean nowhere in sight. My friends scattered across the United States. My life in Greece only a distant memory. I think that's when I'll begin to see how HISA has changed me. How Paros has infiltrated every fiber of my being. The way I think. Act. Speak. Believe.

My biggest fear in returning is responding to the question, "How was Greece?" There are so many things I could say, but nothing seems to do it justice.

As my time here comes to a close, I think about the next scene in my life. Continuing on as a writer. Renewing relationships with loved ones back home. Immersing myself back into the culture at Point Loma. Applying what I learned here to my life. Bridging the gap between Arielle now and the Arielle that people knew before. I think about how grateful I am to have gotten to know these beautiful people. For this group of friends, that I've always wanted, who make me feel fantastic for exactly who I am. They know me as I am, and that I'll miss. For this unique way of educating that has taught me more in three months than I've learned in 13 years of school.

I'm so grateful. Humbled by love, intellect, and the profundity of this time.

Top 10 Moments in Greece:

Riding Donkeys & Cliff-jumping in Santorini

Goddess Class Rituals

Spending the Night in our Empty Classroom

The Reading

Goodbye Dinner


My Last Night with Lynne

Day-hike in Santorini


Temple of Apollo & Dinner in the Hills

Night in Naxos


Thanksgiving Day

I'm not good with goodbyes. I don't think anybody really is. But earlier on in the semester, we read this poem during Lit class. It really impacted me because it was the first time I saw something tangible describe my time on Paros. So, I think it's appropriate that I end with this:

Ithaca by Cavafy

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

I fly to Rome tomorrow. Gelato, pizza, popes, & ruins.
Then, I'm off to Paris.
And then...home.

"Paros, Figs, Life of the sea-- farewell thee Paros." -Archilochus



Here's Lookin' At You Kid

8AM Departure by The Perishers
"I feel detached. Like it's not going to hit me until I get home."

Not five minutes later, we were all in tears at the port, walking our friends to the ferry. The HISA gang just said their first round of goodbyes. Marcus, Anna, Grace, and Mariana left Paros tonight. The tears were plenty. And unexpected.

There was a moment there, when I stopped to take it all in. Hugs were being exchanged between friends. Fits of awkward laughter broke through tears. Witty recounts of stories and inside jokes were made to mask the underlying sadness. It was moving. To see all of these people who, three months ago were only strangers, were now sharing a departure of old friends.

One group down. Four to go.

After spending a beautiful weekend together: sharing our semester's hard work at the Reading and Exhibition, singing at Republic's Karaoke night, rooftops bonfires, goodbye brunches and sunsets. It was hard to finally say goodbye. It was the first time that the end felt real.

I'm not trying to be overly dramatic. It's not the end of the world, and I know everything will be just fine. But goodbyes hurt, nonetheless. Especially this one. With these people. In this place. After this experience.

After the ferry pulled out of the port and the car exhaust cleared from the pick-up circle, the remaining stood there. Posing the wordless question...now what? We looked around at each other, puffy eyes and sad smiles. Without discussion, we began walking towards our school building.

Someone had lifted the key so that we were able to spend one last night in the classroom. The room where everything happened. Where we'd met. Worked. Learned. Taught. We made our way through the empty building, collecting food and drinks from all corners of the kitchen area. We made ourselves a picnic of chips, popcorn, and coke on the bare floor. My friends and I looked like children, sitting Indian style and surrounded by junk food. We talked about our time here. What we hoped for our futures. Our thoughts on leaving the island. And each other.

After five hours, two movies, and three bags of chips...we made the journey back to our apartments. Where we returned to our respective rooms, exhausted from trying to make sense of it all. I sit in my, now empty, apartment. Pictures down. Barren closet.

There are still more goodbyes to come, including the biggest of them all--Paros, itself. I think it's safe to say that I'll be exhausted, in more ways than one, when I finally end up back in California.

Until I cross the pond, here are some pictures from the final weekend.

Goodbye sunset with Sara, Isabel, and Lynne

The Writers after our Reading on Friday

Lynne and me practicing before the show

Messing around with Isabel's Interrelated Media Project

Zach, Lynne, Mike and Michelle looking at the Photographers' Exhibition

Zack working his Interrelated Media Project

George "The Crane" Crane (my writing teacher) and me in our film debut--

Zach's film project being projected during the Exhibition

Some of the HISAs during the Exhibition on Saturday

Performing my pieces at the Reading

The HISA building during the Exhibition

Being one with Kerri's Interrelated Media project

The Product

Tomorrow night is our Reading. The Creative Writing students, who have been working hard all semester long, finally get to showcase their work.

We'll be performing pieces for the rest of our program, students from the other art school on Paros, and any locals who are interested in attending. Poetry. Prose. Monologues. There's something for everyone. I'll be reading three short stories that I've written--chronological snippits of my character's transformation through out her story.

I'm excited. Nervous. Anxious. Sad. Nostalgic. This Reading marks the end of our time together. Of our classes. Relationships with teachers and fellow students.

It's all very surreal.

That we've been here for so long. That we're through with the semester. That we're going to be saying goodbye very shortly. As the first group of people depart this Sunday, the end will begin to sink. While we're all more than ready to start the next steps of our lives, there are parts in all of us that want to hold onto Greece for as long as we can. This culture. These beautiful people. The love and passion and hard-living that we've seen here...it's unmatchable.

Abandoned church in Paroikia

Sitting at the abandoned church watching the ferry leave the Port of Paros

Frankish castle in Paroikia

I won't say goodbye to Paros yet, but I'm slowly preparing myself for departure. Which, by the way, is in eight days.

Until then,
Kalinichta (Goodnight)

Beginning of the End

Today we had our last Literature class, with my favorite teacher, Sigrid (Siggy). While sitting on the rooftop of our school building, we discussed the last book we read in class. Zorba and the Greek. It's a tale of the Greek culture and what it means to truly live. Appropriate, huh?

As Siggy was reading an excerpt from the book, I looked around at the world that had so quickly become my home. The endless white buildings cascading through out the mountains. The scattered blue domes of churches, here and there. The calm Aegean sea, surrounding the Port of Paros. My classmates listening intently, yearning for every last bit of knowledge from this wonderful teacher.

Surprisingly, I got choked up. I realized that this beautiful way of learning had become normal to me. And that soon...it would be gone.

When class came to an end, there was a long, comfortable silence. It was like an understanding. An understanding that we had learned all that we could from this place and that it was time to move on. Siggy stood up, abruptly ending the silence. "Don't let it end here, gang. Keep it going, alright?"

And with that, the class was over.

It was the first of many goodbyes. More hugs and silent understandings to come. Silent acknowledgement of what went on here. Of the gratitude we each have for each others' presences in our lives.

Since, for the time being, we're silently explaining our time here...I'll let Zorba do the talking.

“I was happy, I knew that. While experiencing happiness, we have difficulty in being conscious of it. Only when the happiness is past and we look back on it do we suddenly realize—sometimes with astonishment—how happy we had been. But on this Cretan coast I was experiencing happiness and knew I was happy.” - Zorba the Greek

Community

Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. You know, that day we sit around the table, eating too much food, and conjure up some words of gratitude? Then, we fall asleep with our pants unbuttoned, dirty dishes in the sink, and ponder where to put the Christmas tree.

But, for that one moment, that day of communal thanks…we’re reminded of all the great things in our lives.

Last weekend, I had a friend visit me from the states. He got to see the life I’ve been living here, on Paros. Now, I don’t know if it’s just me who does this, but when someone close to me is out of their comfort zone and experiencing something about my life, I tend to put myself in their place. I begin to hear words as they might. See surroundings through their eyes. In doing so, I’m able to get a glimpse at something that I might have been overlooking.

For example, my visiting friend, Russell, and I were walking down the same street that I walk everyday to class. He stopped and turned down a pathway that I’d never really seen before. I followed him up the steps, and there was this beautiful marble castle. I guess I’d noticed it while walking before, but I’d never really stopped to take it in. It was remarkable. The same thing happened later on, when we spent some quality time with my new friends.

The group up at the Temple of Apollo

Everyone roaming the grounds of Artemis and Apollo

Listening to Cameron talk about Apollo and Artemis

The group went up to see the Temple of Apollo and have lunch at this beautifully secluded house in the hills. The 360 view of the island was mouth-dropping. Adorned with quirky fixtures and collections from all over the world, this obscure building felt like a home. We sat around the fireplace, ate delicious food, napped, told stories, sang, laughed. It was perfect.

Talking around the patio table, after lunch

Gorging on the delicious home-made food

There was a moment when I sat and took it all in, trying to see what Russell might be seeing. I watched Lynne do impressions, making everyone laugh hysterically. I listened in as Marcus gushed over the delicious food we were eating. I smelled the wood-burning fireplace, crackling next to the sleeping Catherine. The room was filled with friends. Happy, joy-filled friends. People, who were complete strangers less than 3 months ago, were now joined as if they’d been mates for life. The amount of gratitude and love in that warm, little room was immaculate.

I realized something, then.

There is such a need for fellowship and community. A need for relationship. Conversation. People who, though aren’t always like-minded, will make you think. Believe in yourself. Laugh about struggles. Dream about passions. All of these quintessential ideas are surrounded by the people who ignite them.

Whether it’s on a Greek island with totally new friends…or at home, in your dining room, with the family you’ve always known. This community of loved ones is the most necessary thing for us, as humans. I’m not sure if I’d have realized the community I have here, had I not taken a step back to evaluate things from the new perspective of my friend.

Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. What do you have to be thankful for?

Nostalgic in Naxos

Just got back from Naxos, another island in the Kikladhes.

It was beautiful. So many mountains, and it felt a lot more Greek. In the sense that there were a lot more residential areas that we got to explore through. In doing so, we met lots of locals and went into more "Ma & Pop" cafes and stores.

Here are some pictures from our trip:

Our yummy lunch on Naxos

How many HISAs can you fit it one bed?

Me with the squids (AKA: Ariel with Ursula)

Looking at the stars with Lynne, Michelle, and Nia at the Gate of Apollo

Last time riding on the ferry; Port of Paros

Napping on Naxos

Nia and Lynne in the cafe we stopped to got cappuccinos at

Getting lost on Naxos

This was the last off-island hoorah for the HISA group.

We're all starting to realize that we're nearing the end. Discussions about what our next steps will be. What we'll miss most. The amazing relationships we've had here. The unexplainable experience and changes we've made.

The common denominator of all of these conversations has been this: something profound happened in all of us, here. We're not sure how we're going to explain it to our friends and family back home. We're not sure how we'll feel about leaving. And we're not sure what we're going to do without this island, or each other, to encourage, inspire, and grow us.

But we know that we'll be alright. And that we're going to enjoy   e v e r y   l a s t   s e c o n d   here. Because that's all we can do.

Forever Paroikia

I have never been happier.

I know people say that. I know I've said that. But this time is different.

I don't have all the money in the world. I'm not with the ones I love. I don't have a lot of worldly possessions in my reach. I'm not, at all, sure of my future.

But I have the realest peace of mind. The truest joy. I am the most calm and content Arielle I've ever seen.

It took having the most heated confrontation with the One I love the most, to get here. But that anger and frustration is what fueled this fire. This fire of humility and joy and gratefulness.

I am so grateful.

Nothing matters, other than each day I'm given. I'm not anxious for the future. I don't dwell on the past. I don't hold myself to impossible standards that only lead to guilt and self-deprication.

All I see is the day in front of me. Everything else...is smoke.

And I could not be happier.

These months. This island. This experience. These people. They've changed me. My relationship with this place has been loving and hating. Pushing and pulling. Giving and taking. I am forever changed. For the better.

There will always be a place in my heart for Paroikia. For this school that taught me how to learn and how to live; more than any class I've ever taken in America. For the view of the shorefront and Market street when I'm walking to class everyday. For the local shopowners who will sit and have three-hour conversations with me. For the heart to hearts I have with the friends, who were only strangers a short while ago. For the hurricane-like winds that blow everything to shreds but sing me to sleep every night. For the tears cried and the words yelled. The falling in love while being 5,200 miles apart. The fear of not being sure of myself. The challenge to write what I know; all that I know. The white buildings that are blinding in the sunlight. The sound of the ferry's horn at the port. The way of life in Paros.

For the brief moments of divinity.

I'm different.
I didn't think it would happen.