Traveling light

It’s the final moments on the short flight from Athens, over and across the Aegean archipelago on a strikingly bright day. A tad after the sun comes up we touch down in Paros.

June 2023

An early weekend in May, I venture to the island to tend to some business, in search of luxury villas and potential business partners. It feels so good to be back in what feels a familiar place, almost like a summer home, and even more refreshing as it’s the start of the season with a fully blossomed terrain bountiful.

I’m zig-zagging across the inland going through Agkeria, Lefkes and Marathi in what resembles a more authentic backdrop of Cycladic Greece to meet with Manolis, a local craftsman.

It’s a boiling 32 Celsius as I go out of the car, take my sunglasses off and greet a familiar face, already burnt by the sun and the salty air. He’s loud and enthusiastic as we banter on how winter has been. He’s smiling a lot and his expressions are warm-hearted almost as if he’s meeting family after a long time.

The winter I’m sure takes its own toll on the island’s residents but, reversely so, it also fills them with a genuine touch and positive energy that’s somewhat abundant around.

I’m here for just two days so I’m traveling light.

A small bag with essentials at hand, a tote on my shoulder with magazines and a book and my phone closeby.

As Leonard Cohen once put it “A seeker hits the road and finds the joys of solitude.”

Paros is all too familiar, having formed fond memories of places and people I’ve loved along the way. And despite it being overly easy to simmer on those, it’s so refreshing to see things differently, discover new spots and collect experiences anew.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s important to give the past a place. But equally it’s essential to not want to live there. It’s all about living in the present.

So just before traveling to Paros, I find myself wondering. What do I need to bring with me right now? What is necessary? What is important?

The rest is best to leave in the past. Discarding the unusable, passing on the recyclable and making room for the new.

Cut to present times - we’re getting off the flying catamaran, setting foot to Hydra for the first time. A daunting light hits the cobblestone alleys of this poetic place as our walk leads us up the hill to our residence.

We’re here for the weekend, so we’re traveling light.