Let me feel you under my feet
Let me inhale you into my chest
until I have had my fill of you.
Run through my veins like syrup
slowly, slowly trickling to the core.
Take your time with me
You have all my life
My heart and my soul
You're a bitter lover sometimes
You make me choke with the want of you
But I'm a willing prisoner of your charms
And move heaven and earth to be near you
I ache and ache for one minute of your blue sky
and your blue sea
Let me feel you beneath me.
(C) 2004 Lola
Living in paradise can be hell sometimes
When people talk about ithaki they often call it an ‘idea'. We all have our idea, our version of what ithaki should be, could be, promises to be in our heads. The reality is, Ithaki is everything and nothing we imagine it to be. It's heaven, it's hell, it's purgatory, it's none of the above, it's just an island.
From the perspective of someone who was not born here, but married into the place, has family roots here, or has simply decided that Ithaki would be their home from here on in, this island challenges everything you believe yourself to be.
I thought I was the most unmaterialistic person I knew, only to find that after 3 years of living on Ithaki, I want things, things and more things and not a single thing I want I can get, which makes me want it even more. I even want things I don't really want just to have them in case I do want them in the future when the ferry isn't running and I won't be able to get them because I can't get off the island.
I thought I was patient, but enforced patience like the ‘slowly slowly' attitude of the community only makes me more impatient. How many times is it reasonable to say f#$% in frustration during the space of one day? I want everything now! Everything.
While living in the ‘real world', at least in the physical sense, the knowledge that everyone knows you, was a comfort, but walking down the street saying hello to the same people 100 times a day as if it's the first time, having everyone in your business, the rumours, the stories, the presumptions, makes me want to put on a wig, grow a beard and move to a well furnished cave (with a view of course) and a sign on the door saying ‘Do Not Distrub'.
“I long for a simpler life” I said, but as soon as the power goes out, (and it does even before the weather forecast predicts rain) or I can't log onto to the internet (because all the lines are waterlogged or just plain crap to begin with) I want to run screaming back to civilization.
What a romantic life, living on an island, beautiful views, clear days, friends, food and wine, a holiday every day etc etc. Wow!! “You're so lucky” said my friends. Buggar that! I want a road that takes me further than 25k, I want a busy street with miles of shopping, cinema, live bands, music I can relate to, I was a rock chick for gods' sake! I want anonymity and I want to eat Thai. I want, I want, I want…then, I get up one morning and look outside, the sun is rising up from behind the mountain, the islands are floating on the horizon, the water is like glass, the falcons are just leaving their tree top nests, the village bell tolls 8 and a sense of wonder and absolute joy overcome me. I don't hear the rock crunchers on the building site that wake me up at 7am, or smell the fumes of that old truck spluttering down the road puffing black exhaust up my nose just as I'm about to take a bite out of my tyropita, I don't bark at the ‘guesswork' power bill that I pay before I'm sent the real one, or pull my hair out while I wait for the tradesman that's a month late in coming. For a little while I feel lucky, very lucky. Just when I lose paradise it finds me, and I inhale the idea of my Ithaki again and remember what it was that made me want to live here in the first place. I can't explain what that is, not even to myself. It's just a feeling an idea in my head, a sense of...I don't know. I do know that there is nothing wrong with the life here or the people here, at least not all of them, but after living here, I realize there is something wrong with me. I'm an idiot. I got what I wished for and I'm still not satisfied.
Guess I'm just like everyone else out there, a work in progress.
(C) 2004 Lola