Awkward Ambrosia

I know that I am mortal by nature, and ephemeral; but when I trace at my pleasure the windings to and fro of the heavenly bodies, I no longer touch the earth with my feet: I stand in the presence of Zeus himself and take my fill of ambrosia. 

-Ptolemy

There is a special awkwardness to being the only person dressed on a nude beach (or as they say in Greece.. a beach..) There is also a certain unfairness to being surrounded by beautiful fit people after being fresh out of the second year of a Masters degree, a Masters degree which had sucked up all time to eat, sleep and exercise properly. Midday, when one of our companions left on an errand into town to pick up a friend, I prayed that he would bring back someone average, but sure enough, he returned with a stunning Spanish woman; tall with a beautiful face and completely comfortable in her own skin. I hated her instantly. (not really, she was actually quite lovely.)  I wasn’t even able to cover my awkwardness in the sea as I am a terrible swimmer and could possibly accidentally drown myself in my own mortification. To top things off, we were staying the night and I was woefully unprepared. (To be fair, it’s tough to fit a sleeping bag and blankets in my luggage from the States alongside 22 ukuleles..) 

Now, one might think that spending a weekend being perpetually embarrassed, completely unprepared and ever so slightly terrified of the sea would be a recipe for a miserable experience, but actually, quite the opposite occurred. I napped under a tree with a breeze off the sea blowing between my toes and rustling my hair. I learned that I am capable of having a mostly coherent conversation with a naked attractive man that I just met, all while keeping my eyes firmly focused up. I discovered the nearby hot springs and sunk my legs in next to a giggling pair of topless retired German ladies.  I ate delicious local cheese cut by a pocket knife and drank a potent Greek alcohol, of which I forgot the name. I would like to say that I forgot the name because I drank too much, but really, names fly from my memory. As a setting sun necessitating clothing, we relaxed on blankets mere feet from the gentle waves rolling in, and we played music; guitars, ukulele and voices carrying on the breeze. When darkness fell over, the stars took center stage, demanding us to drown our eyes in their depths. As a reward for our attention, multiple shooting stars left trails across the heavens. The constellation of the vain Greek queen Cassiopeia drew my eyes, time and time again, to her crooked crown. “I learned my lesson about vanity and am now here for all to see. But tonight the question is, did you learn, Jen?” 

Point taken...