devoured my forehead, eating away at my temples and running down my neck. I bit and gritted and clenched everything I could, and although the pain was intense, a sliver of sun broke though the curtains and enveloped my head. It touched no other part of my body, and although you'd expect it to move, it didn't; caressing my skin for ten... twenty... a thousand minutes...
I barely remember a time before confusion, but despite the agonising pain, something resembling peace flowed over me: a touch, a guide, a strange omniscient elixir. Springing out of bed, I eagerly grabbed the day with both hands, dashing to my MP3 player and filling the room with the sound of The Beach Boys, and, after listening to only half a song, switched to their modern love-child, Vampire Weekend.
"What are you doing?" Ethan moaned, pushing his head further into his pillow.
"Come on guys," I replied. "Oia awaits!"
Oia isn't a town I'd heard of up until a few days ago, but as soon as we wandered the old streets, my senses came alive. If Yorkshire is God's country—as us locals announce it—then Oia is where He jets off for a short and sweet vacation. Rustling up my companions, we were soon outside in the gorgeous sunlight, the warm soothing heat melting my headache bit-by-bit. Today is our second day, and so far we've done nothing but stroll through this white town. Hand in hand with Danii, the four of us walked and talked for hours.
"Oh, oh, do you see the magic in this town?" asked Wil, bouncing on his heels and skipping a few feet in front. "I love it, gents. I love it."
Twisting and twirling up the steep hillside, a new marvel opened up before us, an old woman sweeping in front of her even older house. So much of Oia is similar, every street a deja vu, but each different and unique and beautiful.
"I love how white everything is," said Danii, as we leant on a wall and looked up towards the rocky hillside. "It's as though the entire town is built with a grander purpose," she said. "How the gates and doorways and church rooftop are blue, but everything else is completely white," she continued, pointing up to the church that dwarfed its surrounding houses.
We continued to walk and talk and stroll, doing nothing at all. The bright afternoon lighted faded, Danii and Ethan returning to the hostel to plan our next adventure. Wil and I decided to remain and enjoy as much of the sunlight as possible, but as the sparkling shine dimmed, my energy and hope faded with it. I'm happiness' guest. An awkward stranger in its presence. I can embrace and enjoy, but only for so long. Eventually, I focus on the pain. And once it's there, it's difficult to budge.
Overlooking the steep slope that runs all the way down to the beach, Wil and I sit at a small table, gazing out towards the mammoth sea. "I can't believe we're going to Tibet," I say, drooping in my chair. "Talk about going from hot to cold."
"Yes, yes, it shall be much cooler than here, although not as cold as you might suspect. Still, we need to stock up on supplies along the way. I hardly think your tacky sandals and... whatever type of shorts you call those... will suffice," says Wil, shaking his head at my apparently far-too-reserved-for-his-liking attire.
"Says you, the guy wearing a yellow shirt, a vest," I say, pronouncing the word vest with extra spite, "and denim shorts. You're such a pretentious hipster snob."
"Ha, yes. Ha, yes. Good, good. You'll find this shirt is lemon, though, and these shorts were once jeans outgrown. Always the artist, my good man. Always the artist." Taking a drink from his bottle, he rocks on the chair's back legs. "Won't it be amazing? Tibet! Tibet, wow, now that's a place to change everything. I can't even imagine—and the journey there... WOW—but here, I mean look, Dante, look," he says, pointing behind me to a miniature cruise liner clinging to the horizon.
Peering out to sea, I scan the area and inhale, my mouth full of fresh and chilled sea air,
I barely remember a time before confusion, but despite the agonising pain, something resembling peace flowed over me: a touch, a guide, a strange omniscient elixir. Springing out of bed, I eagerly grabbed the day with both hands, dashing to my MP3 player and filling the room with the sound of The Beach Boys, and, after listening to only half a song, switched to their modern love-child, Vampire Weekend.
"What are you doing?" Ethan moaned, pushing his head further into his pillow.
"Come on guys," I replied. "Oia awaits!"
Oia isn't a town I'd heard of up until a few days ago, but as soon as we wandered the old streets, my senses came alive. If Yorkshire is God's country—as us locals announce it—then Oia is where He jets off for a short and sweet vacation. Rustling up my companions, we were soon outside in the gorgeous sunlight, the warm soothing heat melting my headache bit-by-bit. Today is our second day, and so far we've done nothing but stroll through this white town. Hand in hand with Danii, the four of us walked and talked for hours.
"Oh, oh, do you see the magic in this town?" asked Wil, bouncing on his heels and skipping a few feet in front. "I love it, gents. I love it."
Twisting and twirling up the steep hillside, a new marvel opened up before us, an old woman sweeping in front of her even older house. So much of Oia is similar, every street a deja vu, but each different and unique and beautiful.
"I love how white everything is," said Danii, as we leant on a wall and looked up towards the rocky hillside. "It's as though the entire town is built with a grander purpose," she said. "How the gates and doorways and church rooftop are blue, but everything else is completely white," she continued, pointing up to the church that dwarfed its surrounding houses.
We continued to walk and talk and stroll, doing nothing at all. The bright afternoon lighted faded, Danii and Ethan returning to the hostel to plan our next adventure. Wil and I decided to remain and enjoy as much of the sunlight as possible, but as the sparkling shine dimmed, my energy and hope faded with it. I'm happiness' guest. An awkward stranger in its presence. I can embrace and enjoy, but only for so long. Eventually, I focus on the pain. And once it's there, it's difficult to budge.
Overlooking the steep slope that runs all the way down to the beach, Wil and I sit at a small table, gazing out towards the mammoth sea. "I can't believe we're going to Tibet," I say, drooping in my chair. "Talk about going from hot to cold."
"Yes, yes, it shall be much cooler than here, although not as cold as you might suspect. Still, we need to stock up on supplies along the way. I hardly think your tacky sandals and... whatever type of shorts you call those... will suffice," says Wil, shaking his head at my apparently far-too-reserved-for-his-liking attire.
"Says you, the guy wearing a yellow shirt, a vest," I say, pronouncing the word vest with extra spite, "and denim shorts. You're such a pretentious hipster snob."
"Ha, yes. Ha, yes. Good, good. You'll find this shirt is lemon, though, and these shorts were once jeans outgrown. Always the artist, my good man. Always the artist." Taking a drink from his bottle, he rocks on the chair's back legs. "Won't it be amazing? Tibet! Tibet, wow, now that's a place to change everything. I can't even imagine—and the journey there... WOW—but here, I mean look, Dante, look," he says, pointing behind me to a miniature cruise liner clinging to the horizon.
Peering out to sea, I scan the area and inhale, my mouth full of fresh and chilled sea air,
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