I disappeared a few years ago though time has zipped right along. I left what I had become in Europe, and more or less stepped back into the skin of who I had left behind, two years prior. I had learned so much, but drifted backwards in time.
I have no regrets. I spent time with my family, and I enjoy my life at home. A roof over my head, a hermit lifestyle, and time to contemplate the future (sometimes too much time spent on this).
I became a tree planter, a job full of weirdos, where exploring the limits of physical and mental endurance is a daily treat. For the other outcasts, check that job out. “bush work,” in general, is meant for those who can’t quite fit into the rest of society. It fucking sucks, but it’s also beautiful.
With money under my belt, and a desire to become the stranger once again, I hit the road in early 2016.
A month in Budapest (again) for dental work, and to visit old friends, then Greece (… Again) to visit friends and see an island I had on my list from years ago (samothraki)…. The idea was to end this trip in Turkey on may 3rd, where I would return home for another season of tree planting. Clearly, this didn’t happen.
As I hitchhiked towards samothraki, my first ride was with Thasos, who ended up taking me to his house for the night, where a comfy bed was awaiting me. This lead to him and his wife, Tania, asking me if I wanted to stay another night, and then they would drive me the rest of the way to the ferry terminal! (a two hour drive, purely to help me out.) I spent the day with Thasos, hanging out at his organic farm, and later on a remote beach, taking pictures of destroyed beach houses while he fished. His idea of a slow, simple life (that he continuously mentioned) basically told that little voice in my head what to decide on the question of whether I should take that flight home. I was waiting for an answer, and if this wasn’t it, I don’t know what the hell would be.
The next day we parted ways in Alexandroupolis, where I finally ferried on over to Samothraki, the relatively unknown hippie Island of northern Greece… This is where the decision to skip the flight home went from 99% to 100%.
I walked 15kms to Therma, where I camped among the old platana trees I had come to love years before. This is where I met Yannis, Andree, and feranza the dog.
About my parents age, this couple and there dog were of the old hippie breed (the type with brains, mind you), and the only other people camping nearby. We quickly became friends, and again, our conversations on simply living life told that little voice in my head what it needed to hear.
Its been three and a half months or so since I left home. I have experienced a fair bit in this time, but let’s be honest, most of the stuff we do isn’t very interesting to other people. Hopefully I’m not adding too much Bullshit people don’t want to hear. I don’t want to become the type that goes on about my “amazing” experiences that everyone needs to know about. I won’t become that person whose every picture is of him or her standing in front of some random building or landscape.
So what’s the point? I want to give a little entertainment. Get across some of the sights and smells of the world, get some good pictures of dogs and cats… And, if I’m lucky, help at least one other person make that decision to hit the road.
Or just give people a few minutes worth of reading material now and then. That’s great, too.
Its pissing down rain here in Thessaloniki right now, and soon I’m off to Turkey…as summer approaches.