Sitting Under A Tree In Greece

When I was in the Navy, in the Summer of 1999, I had a liberty call in Rhodes, Greece. It was a beautiful place that I still consider one of my favorites. The markets and restaurants were excellent, and the people were so friendly to me. I was with a group from the ship, but they only wanted to drink, but I wanted to see more of the beautiful scenery. I decided to wander away once they found a small bar. 

I wandered through the open-air markets and bought a canvas backpack I cherish. Kate a gyro from a vendor, and it was delicious. The town was so colorful and pleasant. I stopped worrying about my friends at the bar because I knew they would still be there at closing time. 

There was a brilliant blue sky with the sun shining and warming things up. I decided to start walking away from the market and soon found myself outside the city. It was a perfect summer day, and I prepared for a good time. Sailors usually carry some vital necessities in a backpack, and I was more prepared than most. I had several bottles of water, toilet paper (like gold when needed), a hat to protect me from the sun, and a few snack bars. What separated me from most sailors was that I carried a leatherbound journal to record my thoughts. 

I wandered along the road until the pavement ended. I followed the dusty path that replaced it. I can't remember exactly how far I walked, but it was getting hot, and I needed a break. I spotted a shade tree at the side of the path and stopped there to rest. There was no sound except for the birds singing. I felt so at peace. I sat down and relaxed in the shade. I felt so at peace after a drink of water from one of my bottles. I didn't want to move from that place. I finally pulled my leather journal from my backpack and opened it to a blank page. I started to write. I won't go into the details; they are personal, but I will summarize what I wrote about that glorious day.

I had never felt so at ease in my life. I could look up at the blue sky and the sunlight filtering through the leaves on the tree, and I imagined that was where I belonged. No one else was around; I could see a long distance down the path in either direction; I was in my perfect world. I started writing, and the images just flowed into my mind. I had difficulty keeping up with the things I imagined under that tree. Time stood still for me as my mind focused on the mages that appeared to me. I wasn't hallucinating; I was simply lost in thought.

When I took my first break from writing, I discovered that I had written almost 20 pages. I was astounded by the clarity that I work with. Clarity is something that I sorely miss in my writing today. I had written about the history of the tree I sat beneath. I wondered how many other travelers had stopped in the same spot and found peace and relaxation before me. I theorized about some ancient Greek philosopher sitting beneath the same tree, and the scenery hadn't really changed that much in thousands of years. When I read that part back to myself, I knew it was pure fantasy because I never heard about any ancient Greek philosophers living in or visiting Rhodes.

I loved the feeling of writing with pen and paper in that journal. Some people on the ship thought I was weird because I loved to write at all, let alone my obsessive writing habit. Even though we were great friends, they all knew that I was checking out of the conversation for a while when I pulled my leather journal out of my backpack. I promised them I would never write about anything they did or said, and I always kept that promise. Thankfully, I always carried several pens just in case I needed them.

When I wrote in that journal on that hot summer day, I felt a spiritual connection with the land and the tree, as if my writing had described something their collective memory told me about and time had no meaning other than the sun's trek across the sky. I knew my friends would still be sampling the local favorites at the bar. I finally checked my watch and realized I had been under that tree for over six hours. That was a lot of writing time, even for me, and I knew I must go and find my friends before it got too late.

They never asked where I had gone or what I was doing. The ink smudge on my fingers told them all they needed to know. We drank some more and eventually made our way back to the ship.

I want to go back to Rhodes someday. I want to experience the wonderful people and culture there. I will make sure to take my leather journal and my Macbook. Hey, I have to keep up with the times.

Be kind to each other.