Volos, Greece is by far one of the most beautiful places I have seen in my life. It was previously a small seaside village with history dating back past the Byzantine Empire but has become a hip school town butting up with a bustling harbor where fisherman still bring in their daily catch to sell off the bows of their boats.
No matter where you stand you can only take in breathtaking views. You see, the city is nestled in the foothills of Mount Olympus but they can easily be considered mountains of their own. The olive tree covered mountains fall quickly into a calm sea filled with the deepest blue ocean water imaginable. Words and Pictures cannot begin to describe the beauty here, but I’ll try!
Daily we have taken 1-2 hour road trips to locations found off of sketchy dirt roads stopping quickly at a remote farm house in the mountains to ask that they fill our bottles with fresh pressed olive oil, or to stop and pick wild flowers or exotic fruits growing on the side of the road. From the back seat of the down hill drive, it looks as though each turn is eminent death if not navigated properly. What’s the true purpose of this unique experience? A small roadless seaside village called Mikro, Greece where Andrea and I were the only two people on the beach and picked fresh fruits and vegetables from the garden to our hearts content.
…And this paradise is the setting for the past few nights’ dinners of fish, squid, octopus, lamb burgers, and finally Greek pizza.
We have been lucky enough to share the table for various meals with Angelos Bastis, the brother-in-law of my great aunt and his wife. More importantly Angelos is an award winning photographer, an educated artist, and an ouzo lover (not in that order). He is 88-years-old by his count, but not nearly as old in his heart. He relentlessly flirts with Andrea and controls the table’s conversation even though he is very limited in his ability to speak due to a vocal cord removal many years ago. The resulting sounds are what you might expect from someone with a tracheotomy, but none of the noises take away from his charisma and charm. When he cannot speak he resorts to a chicken scratch that only his wife of 47 years can decipher or drawing images and pictures to describe his thoughts. Which brings me to the REAL reason for this post. Last night, unbeknown to me, Angelos began two very quick hand sketches of my likeness while simultaneously describing the proper way to frame a good photo, eating chef salad, a margarita pizza, and finishing a bottle of white wine. At the end of the night I had to steal them from the table and he refused to dawn his signature. I can only assume it’s because he doesn’t approve of the likeness. Needless to say this man quickly became one of my heroes. But I need your opinion. What do you think? Do they resemble me?
