ENG 379 — Travel Writing: Writing Prompt 3

ENG 379 — Travel Writing: Writing Prompt 3

The Tourist In Me

I am an impulsive person. If I want to do it, I do it. If I want to say it, the words drip from my lips like trying to hold water in my hands. During my adolescent years there was no medicine for my condition, only daydreams, scribblings and discipline. As an adult my anxiety drives me to procrastination, speeding through my head like a web browser with a thousand tabs opened. I have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Traveling teaches me to manage it, focus my thoughts, and control my reactions. So, I will take you through the steps a woman in Greece taught me to just “let it go”.

Acknowledge 5 THINGS around you that you can SEE

She recommended the sunset cruise.  I had seen the jaundiced yellow brochure sticking out amongst the vividly colored, live-action photos of the other excursions Greek tour guides had to offer. Brian, my husband, and I never really do the “touristy things” on a trip, but he seemed a little eager for another sailing cruise after our initial one-day tour of some islands. I agreed. The Lagoon 400 Sailing Catamaran bobbed up and down upon the water, swaying back and forth on the waves. It was brand new, sleek, sexy, and it danced in a snaky motion over the waves. It reminded me of a movie scene where a clubbing man dances “provocatively” to attract a woman.  My stomach knotted up a little.  I had forgotten to take my Dramamine for motion sickness.

The crewman held out his palm, spackled with callouses from pulling rope. The aqua tankini I wore competed with the turquoise of the Aegean Sea. The sea won. Taking my seat, we joined a group of eight others, starting mid-day from the Athens Olympic Sailing Center.  This was one of the few Olympic sites still in operation. As we motored out of the area, we passed the ghostly Olympic Pools for diving and swimming competitions.  The vines of ivy were their patrons now.  The paint peeled back like torn posters, exposing unceremonious grey concrete.  One the diving boards resembled an old moonshiner’s mouth, jagged tooth barely hanging on to its metal gums.  Other structures resembled some dystopian, post-Apocalyptic edifices, ejected out the terrain like a tribute to Thunderdome. My mind wanted to go there instead. Perhaps there is a fight club in that pit, punching teeth into the distance; and now you have witnessed my disorder.

I could not complain about the weather.  The sky was a gorgeous powder blue with cotton balls of clouds dabbed here and there. Our skins were beginning to roast slowly in the sun, baking in our moist sweat drooling down our necks and backs. My mind could not focus on the inchworm movement of the forty feet of boat. 

Acknowledge 4 THINGS around you that you can TOUCH

My hand held tight to the thick rope of the rails. I had decided to take off my swimming slippers. I had forgotten we were no longer on the pliable, invasive sand, as I attempted to dig my big toe into the textured fiberglass. The grit skidded my entire foot like a skipped tone on a lake. The motor picked up speed. My shoulder kissed against another passenger’s. I thought she would be offended, but her English accent cooed as she began spilling beans about why she was in Greece at this moment. I would have thought my motion sickness would have kicked in by now. My other hand moved in braille over the stitching of the cushions, finding my husband’s knuckles balled in a fist at the end of her sentence. Brian uses his knuckles as traction. I find this humorous when I think about it. I should be the one seasick. I smiled and she thinks I have heard her story and she continued with more of her tale.

The weird thing about my ADHD is that I look like I am not paying attention, but I can recite everything a person has said to me if asked. I am just distracted by everything else. Everything else includes the gusts, created by the speed of the boat, smoothing my back and lifting the skirt-like length of my tankini top. I brush my hands through my dreadlocs, herding them together like cats in a tornado. I was tired of them whipping the freckles off my face. The twisty band resisted in my spread hand. I flexed it over the locs and sealed them off into a ponytail.  The wind on my face felt amazingly better without a hundred wind-driven whips lashing on your forehead and nose.

Acknowledge 3 THINGS around you that you can HEAR

Over the wind, you can hear the crew people talking about Athens and the coastline. They chattered like a stock ticker machine, churning out information in English, with a thick Greek accent. The wind rustled in my ears, natural static for those not really paying attention. Except I heard, “my friend.”  I fell in love with the phrase “my friend”. For Greeks, my friend is everyone who has not pissed them off. That is never the purpose of my travels. Yes, I am your friend.  In every nation I was “my friend” to all I met. I started counting the instances of being friends with this crewman. A passing boat, which I deemed as my friend, too, had rung their bell. It carried on the breeze like a bird whistling during a rock concert. Our Catamaran captain honked his horn, boasting a bold honk from the bow. The new friend sailed on with a churning of waters as it sliced towards home.

Acknowledge 2 THINGS around you that you can SMELL

As we slowed for our first swimming stop, the air was rich with a perfumed saltiness. I had lived on the coast for most of my life. The air in my hometown is pungent, a filthy salty air baptized in the breezes of the local pulp mill and chemical plant. The marsh belched its farty breath into it on every downwind. Greece, however, blossomed in a crispy saline diced with fainted jasmine and hiccups of citrus. The reduction in speed unfortunately introduced my nostrils to the abundance of aftershave a male passenger wore on every square inch of his person. I was hoping he would go into the water first.  I was not getting out at this swim.

Acknowledge 1 THING that you can TASTE

Those who chose to swim briefly climbed aboard. We chugged to our second swimming stop.  The crew had taken out foods, some to prepare while we swam at this stop.  It would be a longer break this time.  Crew brought out snorkeling gear, flippers, and life saver rings. This was my stop. I would be getting off here. Brian had already gotten in and drifted away from the boat.  I was still selecting carefully over the snorkeling gear, silently praying that no one left body fluids in any of these googles. Divers often used their own spittle to defog goggle lenses. I chose a blue pair, slid them over my head and slipped my feet into the water before letting myself fall in.  I knew I would sink straight down, maybe touch a bottom.  My heavy body always went under a few feet before rising back like a fishing bobber. My head had barely made it under the aqua glass before I rose right back and started back floating.  This was a first. I licked my wet lips as I wiped at my nose.

I had been paying attention to the crew when they were rattling off details about the Aegean Sea being the second saltiest sea in the world. My tongue had proof. It had licked the second saltiest lips as I wiped my nose. The taste induces a jerk-reaction, almost shocking the taste buds that are normally used for sweet. It then becomes slightly fishy. And if you are lucky not to get an entire mouthful of it from your husband pulling your ankle unexpectedly, it develops a floral hint. An unexpected mouthful is a disdaining acidic burn that I would imagine if I ever had to bite into a battery. Maybe not as intense, but definitely a borderline combination of sticking your tongue on a 9-volt battery or accidentally forgetting you had just dug in your ear and you started biting that nail.

With all of my senses cleared, I could continue to tell you about the savory grilled meal the crew fed us, the extra time swimming, or the setting of the sails as the sun decided it was too much for him and he had to go home. The warmth of the day switched to a chill to the drying, scantily clad bodies. A blanket gave refuge and we were glad to have brought it along. The sail flapped its Morse Code of the awesome day we had. My toes stroked the netting like guitar strings. The smoky aroma of the grill faded into a musky evening breeze, filled with briny jasmine and wine. My tongue bathed in the sensual swirl of red wine.  Ever since, we have decided to try at least one touristy thing on each vacation.