Tripoli, Greece October 13 crisp cold air and fall jacket a must
I went to visit my dad before he left to go back to the States this weekend in his hometown of Tripoli, or more specifically a village 7 kilos out called Milia. It is funny because as much as I try to get away from Tripoli, I always return there.
After a week of getting my handle on Thessaloniki, school, and being pretty much alone, going home seemed like the best plan. Even with the added cost of traveling. These days, I find traveling tasking. Airports, paperwork, long drives to whatever destination, it makes me tired. So it came as a shock that when we entered Tripoli, I felt energized. The baggage of the day slipped slowly away as I walked through the streets of my homeland hometown.
As we walked, we came upon a little bistro with only one table occupied. I was hungry and so was my dad so we went in. And like clockwork, so did five other groups of tables making the quiet bistro, lively. Maybe it was the lighting of the little place, or the food, or the people, but some sort of magic happened.
The magic being that I was delighted. I couldn't stop smiling and feeling like if someone asked me to go run a marathon, I would accept.
And God, you wouldn't even believe the company and food! It was brilliant! There was a whole mix of people at the restaurant, French black men that knew Greek, youths coming from their sporting games, mothers, uncles, and in the corner me and my dad, the Americans. On top of the company, the food was amazing. Everything tasted like home but better, a feat within itself. I hadn't even had a sip of wine, and yet the night started to have that twinkly edge.
I was happy. But not only happy, I was invigorated. LIFE BECAME NEW.
In ways I cannot express, I wish I could bottle yesterday night up and give it to myself and others when they are down. Because it was unexpected and truly magnificent. A gift in every way of the word.