There are so many texts these days that reimagine history or retell a story to give a voice to the voiceless, to challenge the dominant narrative, and to present an alternative version of what was—one that is, in many ways, far more satisfying than the original.
This past month, I had the great pleasure of teaching Madeline Miller’s Circe, a retelling of the great witch from Greek mythology herself. We get to see her in a different light. We come to understand her motivations, feel what she feels, and realize she is not the monster we thought she was. She, in her god-like form, is humanized, and it becomes clear by the end of the story that if we let go of control and let love in, we can finally be at peace.
I need my own retelling of the Greek myth that was this past summer. The Greek myth of spending one month on the islands as a dream come true, the proverbial destination to cross off my bucket list. This was my expectation, but it was certainly not the experience I just had. I was blindsided by feeling left out, rejected, and not enough. My dream of being on the Greek islands became a nightmare of loneliness, even though I kept myself company the whole time.
So, while I was technically not alone, it was one of the most isolating experiences of my life. I couldn’t escape the colleagues who simply weren’t my people. But I don’t want to give them power over my experience. They robbed me of the friendship I was willingly offering, but I will not allow them to take any more than that.
Like Circe, I need to rewrite my story and reclaim this experience. So, here it goes.
Greece was prefaced with a journey through Lisbon, Portugal, and S. Miguel, Açores—lands of my family, culture, history, and, let’s not forget, food. These are a part of me and touched me deeply. There were profound moments of both joy and sorrow as I reunited with family, friends, and the land. I was moved to tears many times. I love this place so much. This part of my history has shaped who I am today. Sadly, it had been so long since I last visited that I felt a sense of loss for not having been there and participating in that world for the last 10 years. I also had a reawakening of a part of me that had otherwise lain dormant. You see, I was not born there and technically never lived there, yet I have a life and history that are so much a part of me. This connection is one that feeds my soul in so many ways. This visit, as emotional as it was, reminded me of how important this part of my life is and that I cannot wait for “the right time” to be a part of it. I was reminded that I need to visit regularly to continue forging that connection. Otherwise, there is a part of me I am not taking care of: my alma Açoriana.
During this trip, I was rarely alone. My family and friends surrounded me with their love, joy, hospitality, and kindness. What a gorgeous way to start the summer!
From Portugal, I returned to Toronto only to leave a few days later for Greece. Washed, packed, and ready to see it all, I approached Greece with an open heart and mind. I had plenty of space to make friends and make the most of each day. Little did I know, I would instead be making space for myself, for following my heart, for being true to myself, and for not compromising who I am just to fit in. Like it or not, I am not a puppy who will follow others mindlessly.
Although I had been to Greece before, this was a trip to the islands—we started in Athens and felt the intense heat and baked in the sun. We saw the Acropolis and appreciated the gorgeous scenery (and the not-so-gorgeous derelict buildings covered in graffiti). We meowed at the cats and basked in the juxtaposition of old versus new. It was a city worth reacquainting with, and the al fresco dinners were a welcome and familiar part of the summer and the dolce vita.
In Syros, we were in a paradise. My spacious hotel room was nestled in the mountains with a balcony that overlooked the mountains and the bay. I couldn’t believe this is where I got to work. The sand sparkled, and the crystal-clear turquoise water washed over me. Newly baptized in the warm and briny seawater, I watched the sunrise from my balcony and planned my lessons—the most beautiful office view. How lucky I am to be a part of this. I stretched and did yoga as Helios drove his chariot forward. I chose beach, sun, sand, pool, and lounging spaces that spoke to me. I ate all the things. I worked my way into the hearts of some of those around me. I luxuriated on the rooftop patios of Ermoupoli, far from students’ view. And most memorable, I traveled to St. Stephen’s Church in a cave by the ocean with a colleague with a heart of gold—a hike that allowed us to test our limits, make friends with two French models, and left us dizzy by the end. What an adventure!
In Tinos, we were blown away—quite literally, actually. It was there at Aeolus Bay that we felt the power of the wind in Odysseus’s bag; we were blown off course. But not before we climbed to the remnants of the castle at Exomvourgo, again, challenging ourselves to reach new heights. We strolled the windy pedestrian streets of Volax and Pyrgos and made a small pilgrimage to the Holy Church of the Virgin Mary to give our thanks for this beautiful life we get to live. Life is short, and I lit a candle to bless all those I love so dearly.
We pivoted back to Athens for a day to reorient ourselves with the wind and eventually get back on course to Crete. My 6 km self-directed hike through the city of Athens brought me closer to the city and helped me feel settled there. This is also where I discovered my favorite place in Athens: the National Botanical Gardens.
On Crete, I finally found my perfect fit. Heraklion was designed with me in mind—the perfect combination of pedestrian-friendly old city streets perfect for strolling and getting lost in, port-side views, bustling nightlife, and nearby stretches of kilometers of beach. The water was wilder here but still warm and inviting, and I lay there under a Cyprus tree appreciating the breeze as it caressed my skin and the sun as it kissed my forehead. This was a place where I could feel at home. Where I could, if given the chance, build a life and start over again. Finally, of all the paradise islands, this was a place where I felt truly at home, where sea, sky, and greenery surrounded me and fed my soul. After weeks of sea-side and arid landscapes, Crete was like home and restored me.
It was also on Crete that I celebrated my 19th wedding anniversary on a long-distance date with my husband. He, I could see, would have loved to have been there with me, so I included him in photos, videos, and FaceTime calls. And when he was no longer able to keep me company online, I reached out to family and friends. They kept me company all night long. It was the happiest and most fulfilled I had felt in weeks. Thanks to their long-distance love, it was a wonderful evening.
Our last stop was back in Athens—a place where I got to spend a few last days in my own company, appreciating myself and giving myself what I needed. I ran the streets and revisited the Botanical Gardens. I followed each whim and turned at each street that called to me. I was completely in tune with my inner musings. On a carefully selected bench, I luxuriated with a book, listening to the orchestra of cicadas in the National Botanical Gardens. The dappled light and gentle breeze kept me cool. The book I was reading kept me company for as long as I wanted being as quiet or as noisy as I wanted. There was a magic living in that garden—one that canceled all the madness of the sprawling city of Athens. One that made me feel like this is where I belong.
Did I LOVE this trip? No. It was often very difficult as I was faced with the task of being my own best friend, of being okay in my own company, and of accepting that I will not compromise myself just to fit in. I would have loved to have made a friend, or, at the very least, to feel appreciated. But I cannot control others. I can only control myself.
Here’s the thing: you can be in your dream destination but no matter where you are, what matters most is how you feel about it. For me, even though I was living a dream, I was often miserable. If it weren’t for the text messages and the FaceTime calls with my family and friends, I would have spiralled into a depression. It was so lonely and isolating that it took a good week to undo the damage those lonesome times created. But I don't want to give that part of the story any more power over me than it has already had. This is after all, a rewriting of history.
This trip has taught me that it doesn’t matter how beautiful and sparkling the sand is. If you don’t have someone to share it with, it is meaningless. And, I suppose, the greater lesson is that even though I am an independent and self-sufficient woman, I’m still working on being completely peaceful and calm with my own company. I am enough. My company is excellent. I know exactly what I like and don’t like. I am considerate of my own needs. I am amazing.
My happiness does not need to be tied up with who I take on my journey. As long as I am with myself, I can let go of others and be at peace.
So Greece will be my story of exile and finding myself. I was Circe, spinning my magic on my own, creating memories with myself, and remembering the sun on my skin and the salt on my lips. Yes, I had the occasional company and friend. But really, it was a journey for me to find myself.
That is the rewritten version of my history that I will speak forward from this moment on.
