Soft, cool morning sun in Chaniá. No cats about yet. I climb the steps to pick some basil for my morning salad. I realize then I’m on the western wall. Later I explore the paths and find that I can get down to the harbour via the wall. The Maritime Museum on the western point is interesting, but it is mostly about war and battles, and yes, it is sad that so many were lost and killed. But I have no stomach, no heart for all these wars. Anywhere. Everywhere. My heart is breaking for the Kurds, and that is just the beginning. I can’t think of anything good that comes from war, except the release to peace when it is over.
In the afternoon I took a long walk to the west, along the coast and as I left the Venetian quarter where I am staying, things started to look more and more like every Greek city. Crete does very well out of the tourist dollar, but like most cities, the money doesn’t trickle down. It was a stark reminder that Greece’s economy has been in a slump for a good while now, and no matter what my feelings, my politics or my poetic yearnings, I am another tourist with foreign money to spend.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I think I’ll take myself out of this dizzyingly relentless beauty that is old Chaniá and throw myself in the ocean one more time. I’ll take a taxi and hire a beach lounge and umbrella in the shade. Read and write and take a nap and eat and drink like a queen. All for you, beautiful Greece, to say thank you, efcharistó! xx