Feeling much better today. Slept well and had crazy dreams. Seems to always be the way on holiday. Funny to think that I’m still getting the ‘teacher dreams’; perhaps I always will: there’s a class waiting to be taught but I haven’t prepared anything and the lesson’s about to start. It was my year 9 class from this year – the ones who started off a total nightmare and who I grew to like as the year went on (as is often the way). In my dream I was telling myself that I don’t teach anymore but my dream self refused to believe it.
Come for a bit of a change to Loggos, smaller and quieter than Gaios and to the lovely Levrechio beach. Still sleepy about 11am diving in is like diving back into my dreams. I’ve been thinking how to describe the light that wavers and contorts across the sea floor like an ever shifting, pulsating mesh. The reflection of sunlight through clear water. One of the most beautiful things imaginable. I want to be in it so much that it will then percolate my dreams like if you spend enough time surfing when you lie down in bed and close your eyes all you see and feel are the waves rising and falling.
Not enough has been written about wind and its effect. Is it only me who feels so in thrall to the wind? I lean into it and raise my body wanting to be carried away by it. Lost. Tingling. It was always this way. As a boy crouched in a bush like a bird sheltering itself feeling and listening to its recurring gusts moving something within. One of the best lines in ‘The English Patient’ is when Ralph Fiennes describes the different winds in North Africa and their names. A, my funnest, most intense lover, used to say “you can tell that must be taken from the book”
Almost finished reading ‘Prospero’s Cell – A guide to the landscape and manners of the island of Corfu’ by Lawrence Durrell. Written in the years just before World War 2 it’s poetic and philosophical without being over the top. He talks about going to Paleocastrizza to see the caves for the night. I expect he’d be horrified by how overrun it has become with tourism. There is also the most fantastic map of Corfu with a key and symbols in the bottom left corner denoting where to find the following: Best Dancing Fiestas / Best Costumes / Best Wines / Best Beaches / Best Views.
What more could you want?! Best tavernas? Perhaps there weren’t any/many then. He does paint a picture of a place with a very simple and untouched way of life. Interestingly, it’s the only illustration which doesn’t say who it’s by. Him? or perhaps Nancy, his wife, who was an artist.
One of the spots marked as best beaches is Ermones (see last post). Again he wouldn’t recognise it with the giant hotel and incongruous glass funicular but the beach still has magic ingrained in it.
I saw Maria this morning on the bus to Loggos. She was with the same group of friends and both of us were wearing the same clothes as yesterday. They were going to Lakka. Neither of us looked at each other, knowing the moment had passed.
Count D, Durell’s friend in ‘Prospero’s Cell’ on falling in love:
”You know, there is no philosophic compensation for growing beyond the reach of love – that is the one wall one never breaks through. To think that that will never happen again. That that moment, the germinating half-second during which you recognise your complement in someone else, will never happen again…”
To give it some context, Count D is a recluse, a philosopher and approaching old age.
This fills me with encouragement and excitement. One day, I hope, it will happen again and everything will change in a half-second.