before this last March, I had never considered Greece as a possibility for anything;

but then I heard the language, its quirky sounds, and contemplated its span in time;

an alphabet already on my mathematics; some ideas already ingrained by my approximations to philosophy;

it could be an intellectual challenge; a change of scenery, at worst — and there were no other commitments in my life, anyway;

some of my travelling was in the context of AINTA: An Invitation to Act, an European Solidary Corps volunteering opportunity scheduled from the 15th of June to the 11th of August, in the city of Ioannina, in Greece.

The first impressions were the heat, the sun, the mountains all around; having landed in Preveza, with no clue as how to make the connection to the bus station, I realise, in very rudimentary Greek, that somehow it is acceptable for two pieces of land to be separated by a non-walkable, toll-only motorway; estendi o polegar algumas vezes, e dada altura pude dizer que πρέπει να παω στο κέντρο, não percebi a resposta, apenas a urgência, saltei para a caixa aberta e confiei que —

My Greek was still clearly not good enough, yet I was actively trying, at every possible interaction, to squeeze a few words in, get myself in situations to explore the language — even to buy a ticket, something so simple and mundane to be featured in almost every language book, felt like a big leap into uncharted territory

(should I have prepared myself better ——— )

but people seemed to enjoy my heartfelt tries, a parting τα λέμε! giving away how much I really was into all of this, my first realisation of τα λέμε's charm at Σιμούν Βιβλιοπωλείο Καφέ, a great children's book section, and The Magic Mountain, bilingual editions of Epictetus, a small brochure with Fernando Pessoa's poems translated, which I took it as a gift, one day I shall translate it, maybe

περπάτησα πολύ and from Preveza to Ioannina the bus route took a couple of hours; on the road I am graced by mountains, spreading all around and in the horizon, at some point, the remains of something resembling an antique amphitheater — just there, slightly above the motorway, a partial circumference of columns, although apparently in the middle of nowhere, it was Greece after all and there were more of these, surely.

The project coordinator gave me a lift to the hotel we would all stay at, and he showed me the room. It had some doodles written all over still, from Shiraq, or Mustafa, but I did not make much of it (hungry and tired) and still that evening I got to know some other people, and watch a bit of the Euro, and muse about the meaning of δηλαδή; the rest of the people, around fifty volunteers, from Tunisia and Ukraine and Portugal and a few Slovaks — not as many Slovaks as the rest, in fact just two — the rest of the people trickled in throughout the next few days, and as the group got bigger and bigger, we would regularly assemble at the big, open space between all of the accomodations, a sort of terrace overlooking the lake and Ioannina just behind it, a beautiful lake; and a small island in it.

During the first few days, I'd to some walking around the hotel, for the sake of headspace and solitude;

there was not much silence, the nights in particularly tended to be very noisy, and I was still learning my Greek, listening to Μιχάλις and his volunteer, there was a lot of walking around;

soon some plants came to form a small map of my surroundings:

the aloé vera, the lavender, the lively fennel,

(which is of course not петрушка,
what were you on about)

and the brief reminiscences of Slovenia,

the farm, the isolation, barely a year ago — in fact, it hasn't yet been a full year since I departed, and yet so much since then —————

every day I would get some lavender and hold it in the pocket of my shirt, as I did, barely a year ago;

Very soon did I start going up the mountains;

only once so far enough to find another road, that went even higher up — I know there was a village somewhere, and I planned to visit, but — I couldn't go with the dog, Μαλακητα, she kept following me around for a period and did not know how to behave in motor roads, but

on that mountain, on the road to all the way up, there was an abandoned house, a house still in construction with barely anything other than its foundations and a stairway to the top; a few graffiti, too,

and at the usual rate of twice daily, I would come and visit the house;

first in the early morning, and then late afternoon, to write and do some yoga, catch the sun setting (but never its rising, as it happened behind the mountains), and with time I realised the Sun's trajectory was moving — we were past the solstice.

For a handful of times I had company; I'd lead the way and show the house as if it were my own.

Almost every morning I would come back and the boys still at half-slumber, R. and D., even if they did wake up with my early leave they knew there was a comfortable window of something like an hour they could still sleep through; and most of the time upon all of their waking we would talk, talk a lot, about everything,

because as it turns out living close to some fifty other people makes for the sort of environment in which there are lot of things one would like to talk about,

those were our
reuniões de condomínio;

at the coming of the first weekend I realised there was a person who knew how to draw; and her presence was rather reassuring at least at that time and I wondered whether she could teach me;

there was very little in terms of guidance,

the long silences —

the noise of the pencils scribbling —

«you should only erase a mistake after you draw the correct line,

so you know not to make the same mistake again»

so we instituted the drawing club, to assemble at very irregular periods

as is usual in these sort of youth projects, there's always an opportunity for the participants to share some of their culture, the national teams gather and plan ahead something that might potentially involve a slideshow of pretty landscapes from the country, some do dances

some might even go as far to make a fifteen minute non-rehearsed theater play about their nation's conflicted history of subordination to the Austro-Hungarian empire, a rare moment of brilliance to have manifested among, well —

oh and do I get conflicted in these situations because Portugal is a big big mess our history likewise, this year in particular com os cinquenta anos da revolução ainda parece exigir maior tento ao falar-se nesse momento, as coisas que aconteceram e o que ficou por acontecer,

and I had been listening to Por Este Rio Acima for so many weeks at that point, everything about it so magical, and having mentioned Fausto so frequently because clearly there has been a disservice in preserving such a rich period making it all disappear under the all-encompassing grândola vila morena, se fosse eu se fosse apenas eu tínhamos que ouvir o Fausto, claro,

e a saudade é uma espera é uma aflição

    se é primavera é um fim de outono

                um tempo morno é quase verão

                           em pleno inverno

                                      um abandono,

e do nada surge a notícia,

um tempo verbal numa mensagem
que não parecia corresponder

como assim Fausto Bordalo Dias







foi





e fiquei verdadeiramente de luto

and about the project itself,

at first I felt like I had not much to say but

how could I not given that it was so many people

     and I really enjoy being around people,

             thinking about community,

         being influenced by the energy and all of that

it was lots of people, and lots of energy, some of it unfortunately misdirected; but I find tremendous joy in being among such big groups, and it was very easy to feel a part of something;

every few days, we would go all together to the youth center — the structure — with ideas and plans for activities: these youth were generally misplaced, uprooted,

coming from Syria, Afghanistan, Somalia, Egypt, etc.;

we'd communicate in very simple English, or have Arab as a mediator,

and sometimes the kids
wouldn't be in the mood for talking;
sometimes they'd go outside of the group,

and smoke, and just watch,

and that was okay, too;

but we were not really equipped with the tools to handle the silence,

and the possible desire for a different kind of connection other than football and lively games.

but in any case it felt indeed like a bit of a waste

because it is obvious that fifty people

fifty young people!

would be able to achieve a lot more had there been the intention, and the commitment, and the help to ————

and so I quickly pivoted my interests, maybe not as intentionally as I would suppose,

to look at the other people, assess the status,

what is the space in need of

θες βοήθεια;

here's a good joke

shall we hug

entertaining thoughts of learning Arab,
and also entertaining thoughts of learning Ukrainian

the first more relevant, the latter,
well, the latter;

and Greek was always on my mind, I would learn a lot of τα ελληνικά in the kitchen, με την Α. και Π. και Ε. και τα άλλα άτομα just listening and trying to convey very simple things;

then one day Β. sat with me and, notebook in hand, we did Greek for half an hour, I took endless notes,

and it was exhausting;

but something had certainly unlocked και από εκείνη τη στιγμή και μετά αισθάνθηκα πολύ πιο σίγουρη για τα ελληνικά μου.

we would talk about self-development, about emotions,

have our Greek lessons, discuss things,

a big living room where we all would sit, I even napped in those couches,

watched a musical, Les Parapluies de Cherbourg,

but that, errr, that was the beginning of and after the ———

of course I did learn many things, and I enjoyed myself in many ways, and in that sense this was not an immense misdirection of my time;

some of it I will make public but some of it I will keep to myself;

there's a habit of erasing messages that would contradict the necessity of writing things down and taking notes about whatever is going across my mind;

in hindsight, it helps for the purposes of, it's not necessarily accountability, but having a record, having at least the impression of knowing how things were back then,

because things indeed tended to change a lot and very quickly

at some point we had a week off, a whole of nine days to do whatever we wanted with it; there were some faint plans of beach, some cars, driving around τους δρόμους στην Ελλάδα, and I love driving but I'm very very afraid of commitment with such large groups of people and so

in a bit of a rush I found myself a bus (a rather expensive one at that but I'll forgive the Greeks because their country is surprisingly big and alas lacking on fundamental railway infrastructure) — and that bus would after a handful of hours put me in Greece's darling Αθήνα.

Because when I thought about Athens I'd imagine something highly chaotic, cars and people and a big unsurmountable mess all over the place but if anything I get off the bus and I see barely anything other than roads and cars, the nearest subway station some twenty minutes away, and so I'm lugging my overpacked backpack all the way until Agios Antonios, the overall very frail plain being only to arrive at the apartment, drop my stuff,

«Alex, do you have a driving license?

Because if you do, we can take the car»

now listen I'm against cars in almost all circumstances but you give me the possibility of driving a Fiat Panda in one of the most car-friendly cities in Europe and I'm down; I did all the turning signals the smooth breaking the precise manoeuvering of the clutch it only took me one try to parallel park the vehicle in a residential neighbourhood very near where a festival was taking place, the anti-racist festival, I had no idea, there was a lot of people,

    a lot of music,

       Greek traditional music,

             Greek tradicional dances,

       a lot of stands and languages and food from all over,

the closest thing to a πανηγυρί I had so far, αλλά σίγουρα το επόμενο καλοκαίρι,

we got home at 6AM, the sun already up, from the room I slept in I could see the

The Acropolis of Athens (Ancient Greek: ἡ Ἀκρόπολις τῶν Ἀθηνῶν, romanized: hē Akropolis tōn Athēnōn; Modern Greek: Ακρόπολη Αθηνών, romanized: Akrópoli Athinón) is an ancient citadel located on a rocky outcrop above the city of Athens, Greece, and contains the remains of several ancient buildings of great architectural and historical significance, the most famous being the Parthenon. The word Acropolis is from the Greek words ἄκρον (akron, "highest point, extremity") and πόλις (polis, "city").

it's not like I really cared much; my kind of tourism is less like visiting the things but aimlessly walking around the things and in that sense the Acropolis is a great reference point; it towers above most of the city, and Athens, as a city, is immense, anyway; this first time it still felt small but when I came over for a second time;

——— I knew I would come back just not so soon

I remember going around for art supplies and I found the greatest shop with the loveliest handmade notebooks; the narrow sidewalks and yet not really that many cars, specially in Εξάρχεια, and I don't think I have ever seen so many bookshops in one place, maybe just Berlin? And even so —

My staying would not go on forever; at some point, I had to come back to Ioannina; to the project, to the people. And most of them were not there, anyway, so once more I took the bus, to Lefkada this time, to do what? No idea, and I don't trust my decision making in hindsight, there were some talks and conversations to be had and quite simply I missed these people, so I went, some four hours, again, up north.

[I still have more; but it won't come out all at once. There's drawings and notes and words and ——— fortunately,

there's time; everything is still happening, here, there, and everywhere]